I always force myself to wait until after Halloween to start thinking much about holiday pies or, really, future holidays in general. But this year I cheated a bit, tempted heavily by the lure of a warmly-spiced sweet potato pie that I used to make back when I baked pies for a living in the Bay Area (way back when). We seem to always have sweet potatoes around as they’re one of Oliver’s favorite foods, and when I roast them for his lunch I’ve been wishing I could turn them into a silky pie instead. So the other day I reserved part of the sweet potatoes for me. For a pie that I’ve made hundreds of times in the past, this time reimagined with fragrant brown butter, sweetened solely with maple syrup, and baked into a flaky kamut crust. We haven’t started talking about the Thanksgiving menu yet this year, but I know one thing for sure: this sweet potato pie will make an appearance. I’ve made a number of pies on this site in the past (and listed a handful at the bottom of this post if you need some additional baking inspiration), and hundreds for my baking business, Marge. Today at Marge we focus solely on granola, but when I first started the company in San Francisco six years ago, pies were my thing. I’d bake them Thursdays and Fridays in my rental kitchen in Richmond, load up my little Volkswagon early Saturday and Sunday mornings and drive them to the farmers markets where I’d sell whole pies and individual slices. Unlike a lot of competitors, I made the pie dough and rolled it out by hand — a real labor of love come Thanksgiving when orders would stream in and I’d work late into the night, questioning this very decision (as well as my sanity … and my business plan).
At the time I favored a pretty standard all-butter pie crust made with all-purpose flour, but these days — as you know — I love experimenting with whole grain flours whenever I can. And while it’s feasible to make alternative flour swaps with simple baked goods like muffins or quick breads, a really flaky pie crust isn’t always as forgiving. In the past, I’ve fallen in love with a rye pie dough or, if nothing else, often add in some whole wheat pastry flour in place of the all-purpose flour. But I’ve been determined to try making pie dough with kamut flour ever since teaching a class with it a few months back at The Pantry.
If you’re not familiar with kamut (its full name is Kamut Khorasan Wheat), it’s an ancient relative of modern day wheat that looks a lot like a wheat berry except it has a really pretty, golden hue. You can buy the hearty grains and eat them much like you would wheat berries or farro (grain salads, pilafs) or you can buy them ground down into a flour with a nice, light texture and a subtle, buttery flavor — a natural fit for holiday pies.
I used Bob’s Red Mill kamut flour largely because I love Bob’s Red Mill products and have been using them for many years now. They’re really easy to find, and with such a vast line of whole grain flours and nut flours, I’m often inspired to break out of a rut and try something new. The pie dough recipe here should feel familiar if you’ve made a homemade pie dough before (and if you haven’t, let’s do this!): it’s an all-butter affair that I like to make by hand. Keep your ingredients cold, turn on some good tunes, work relatively quickly (you want that butter to remain cold to get the best, flakiest crust) — and all will be just fine.
In addition to the buttery whole grain crust, this filling is worth talking about. If you’re an ardent pumpkin fan, I encourage you to give sweet potato pie a try. It has a very similar spice profile so you still get all those warm spices but I find the filling to be much lighter and airier. I think it would’ve been hard to do this when I was baking dozens and dozens of pies for special orders, but at home I like to whisk brown butter in with the sweet potato custard; it has that nutty, fragrant character that makes this pie really deluxe and special. If you’ve never made brown butter at home, google a quick tutorial (this one is good) — it’s really not at all difficult, and makes all the difference in flavor.
As I was working on this recipe I found myself photographing it like crazy, sharing it with family and friends, and talking about it non-stop with Sam. I even went so far as to give Oliver a few tastes, which is generally against my ‘sugar’s not good for babies’ philosophy. I hadn’t felt this excited about something to come out of the kitchen in a long time, and I couldn’t quite place the feeling. It wasn’t simply a craving for pie — it was more that I hadn’t made a pie in such a long time that muscle memory kicked in and I started to just get in the zone, relishing in something that I felt capable and good at.
It’s funny when you start a business because you love to do something — bake pies, for instance — and as the business grows and morphs and your role changes (as it’s bound to), you no longer do that thing you loved to do. So it’s become clear: I need to bake more pies at home, and I think marrying my old recipes with my new interests (natural sugars and whole grain flours) feels just as exciting as the initial journey was many years ago. So, onward!
I realize this recipe may look a little long, but I assure you the steps are all quite manageable. To make things easy on yourself, roast the sweet potatoes and make the pie dough the day before so on the day you’re baking the pie you’re focusing on browning butter, making the filling (which is quick at this point), and rolling out and pre-baking the crust. I’d love to know if you make this pie and what you think of it. If you decide to share on Instagram, tag it with #asweetspoonful and @meganjgordon so I can see yours!
This sweet potato pie is sweetened solely with maple syrup and has a slight butterscotchy flavor thanks to the fragrant browned butter. I roast the sweet potatoes (boiling them can make for a pie with a little more moisture than I ultimately want) but you can certainly use canned sweet potato or even pumpkin here if you’d prefer. The one step not to skimp on is pre-baking the pie shell: whenever you’re working with a custard (or wet) filling, you really want to do this so your bottom crust won’t end up soggy.
Sweet Potato Filling:
Make the pie dough: Whisk both flours, salt and sugar together in a medium bowl. Using a pastry blender (or your fingertips), cut the butter into the flour, working quickly, until mostly pea-size bits of butter are left. Drizzle in the cider vinegar and 2 tablespoons of ice water and stir with a fork or your fingers. Add more of the ice water mixture, 1 tablespoon at a time, until the dough comes together into more of a uniform ball. It’s ok if there are some dry, mealy bits and great if there are bits of butter still visible. Test if it’s done by squeezing and pinching the dough with your fingertips to see if you can gather it together. Shape into a flat, chubby disk, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 1 day.
Roll and bake the pie shell: When you’re ready to roll out your crust, take out the dough about 10-15 minutes before working with it so it has a chance to soften up just a bit and become more pliable and easier to work with. Then work quickly to roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface until it’s about 11-12 inches round. Carefully transfer to a 9-inch pie plate and nestle gently into place. Leave 1-inch of overhang (if there’s a great deal of overhang, trim), then fold edges under and crimp.
Preheat the oven to 375 F. Prick the bottom of the pie shell a few times. Line with parchment paper or aluminum foil and fill to the top with pie weights or dried beans. Bake for 20 minutes, or until lightly golden. Remove pie weights or beans along with parchment or foil and bake for an additional 8 minutes, or until the shell is nice and dry on the bottom.
Make the filling: Preheat oven to 400 F. Prick sweet potatoes with a fork, set on a baking sheet and bake for one hour, or until soft. When finished cooking, remove sweet potatoes from the oven and reduce the temperature to 350 F.
In a small light-colored saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat, stirring occasionally with a rubber spatula to encourage even cooking. Cook until butter begins to foam, about 4-5 minutes. Continue cooking until the foam subsides and little brown bits appear at the bottom of the pan, smelling fragrant and nutty. Pour butter into a heatproof bowl, remove from heat, and stir for 1-2 minutes to allow it to cool. Set aside.
When cool enough to handle, slice sweet potatoes in half and scoop out the flesh. Discard the skin and place sweet potatoes in a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Puree until smooth (should yield about 1 2/3 cup). Add the eggs, maple syrup, heavy cream, sour cream, vanilla extract, flour, cinnamon, ginger, cloves and salt and pulse a few times to combine well. Slowly stream in the slightly-cooled brown butter.
Pour the mixture into the prepared pie shell and bake until set, about 55-60 minutes. The pie is finished when the edges are completely set and the center is no longer liquid but still a touch jiggly (it will continue to set after it comes out of the oven). Cool on a wire rack for at least 2 hours before serving. Serve warm or room temperature with whipped cream if you’d like.
Winter Comfort Food
I intended on baking holiday cookies to share with you today, but when I sat down to brainstorm all I could think about, truly, was the morning porridge I've been making and how that's really what I wanted to send you away with. The holiday season always seems to zoom on by at its own clip with little regard for how most of us wish it would just slow down, and this year feels like no exception. We got our tree last week and I've been making a point to sit in the living room and admire the twinkle as much as possible. I have lofty goals of snowflakes and gingerbread men and stringing cranberries and popcorn, but I'm also trying to get comfortable with the fact that everything may not get done, and that sitting amongst the twinkle is really the most important. That and a warm breakfast before the day spins into gear. This multi-grain porridge has proved to be a saving grace on busy weekday mornings, and it reheats beautifully so I've been making a big pot and bringing it to work with some extra chopped almonds and fresh pomegranate seeds. While cookies are certainly on the horizon, I think I'll have this recipe to thank for getting us through the busy days ahead.
We returned home from San Francisco on New Years Eve just in time for dinner, and craving greens -- or anything other than baked goods and pizza (ohhhh San Francisco, how I love your bakeries. And citrus. And winter sunshine). Instead of driving straight home, we stopped at our co-op where I ran in for some arugula, an avocado, a bottle of Prosecco, and for the checkout guys to not-so-subtly mock the outlook of our New Years Eve: rousing party, eh? They looked to be in their mid-twenties and I figured I probably looked ancient to them, sad even. But really, there wasn't much sad (or rousing, to be fair) about our evening: putting Oliver to bed, opening up holiday cards and hanging them in the kitchen, and toasting the New Year with arugula, half a quesadilla and sparkling wine. It wasn't lavish. But it's what we both needed. (Or at least what we had to work with.) Since then, I've been more inspired to cook lots of "real" food versus all of the treats and appetizers and snacks the holidays always bring on. I made Julia Turshen's curried red lentils for the millionth time, a wintry whole grain salad with tuna and fennel, roasted potatoes, and this simple green minestrone that I've taken for lunch this week. Determined to fit as many seasonal vegetables into a bowl as humanly possible, I spooned a colorful pesto on top, as much for the reminder of warmer days to come as for the accent in the soup (and for the enjoyment later of slathering the leftover pesto on crusty bread).
If I asked you about what you like to cook at home when the week gets busy, I'm willing to bet it might be something simple. While there are countless websites and blogs and innumerable resources to find any kind of recipe we may crave, it's often the simple, repetitive dishes that we've either grown up with or come to love that call to us when cooking (or life in general) seems overwhelming or when we're feeling depleted. While my go-to is typically breakfast burritos or whole grain bowls, this Curried Cauliflower Couscous with Chickpeas and Chard would make one very fine, very doable house meal on rotation. The adaptations are endless, and its made from largely pantry ingredients. I never thought I'd hop on the cauliflower "rice" bandwagon, but I have to say after making it a few times, I get the hype.
People describe raising young kids as a particular season in life. I hadn't heard this until we had a baby, but it brought me a lot of comfort when I'd start to let my mind wander, late at night between feedings, to fears that we'd never travel internationally again or have a sit-down meal in our dining room. Would I ever eat a cardamom bun in Sweden? Soak in Iceland? I loved the heck out of our tiny Oliver, but man what had we done?! Friends would swoop in and reassure us that this was just a season, a blip in the big picture of it all. They promised we'd likely not even remember walking around the house in circles singing made-up songs while eating freezer burritos at odd hours of the day (or night). And it's true.
Oliver is turning two next month, and those all-encompassing baby days feel like a different time, a different Us. In many ways, dare I say it, Toddlerhood actually feels a bit harder. Lately Oliver has become extremely opinionated about what he will and will not wear -- and he enforces these opinions with fervor. Don't get near the kid with a button-down shirt. This week at least. He's obsessed with his rain boots and if it were up to him, he'd keep them on at all times, especially during meals. He insists on ketchup with everything (I created a damn monster), has learned the word "trash" and insists on throwing found items away on his own that really, truly are not trash. I came to pick him up from daycare the other day and he was randomly wearing a bike helmet -- his teacher mentioned he'd had it on most of the day and really, really didn't want to take it off. The kid has FEELINGS. I love that about him, and wouldn't want it any other way. But, man it's also exhausting.
We recently had our favorite day of married life yet. When I tell you what it consisted of, you may worry or chuckle. Sundays used to be sacred in our house in the sense that it was our one day off together. We'd often read the paper, get a slice of quiche at Cafe Besalu, or take walks around Greenlake or Discovery Park. But now Sundays are generally when I work the farmers market for Marge Granola, and Sam helps me set up and take down each week, so they've taken on a very different feel, one more of work than leisure. So a few months ago, after mildly panicking that we no longer had any routines or days off, we reclaimed Saturdays as 'the new Sunday' and last weekend set the bar pretty high. The day began really cold: in the high 20's and graduated, eventually, to the 30's. We decided it'd be nice to just stay inside; Sam had a little work to do and some letters to write. He had a few articles he'd been wanting to read. And I'd been thinking about this lasagna recipe, so I puttered around the kitchen roasting squash and slicing garlic. The afternoon ticked on slowly. Sam made us baked eggs for a late lunch and I tried unsuccessfully to nap. I think it was the calmest we'd both felt in a long time. I'm lucky to have found a man who loves spending time at home as much as I do. While we both love going out to see friends, traveling, and having people over to our place, we also gain the most, I'd say, by doing simple things around the house -- straightening up, making a meal. organizing records or books or photos. Especially in this season of cold temperatures and early-darkening skies, it's what I crave the most. And last Saturday closed in the best of ways: we opened a bottle of "wedding wine" (thanks to my neurosis and fear we'd run out, we over-ordered wine when planning for our wedding) and dug into generous slices of this very special vegetarian lasagna, a hearty layered affair with caramelized onions, a sage-flecked tofu ricotta and a simple, savory butternut squash purée.