Classic Pumpkin Pie

October. The best month. I have always believed this — October in Idaho is the pinnacle of the year, the month when everything is golden and crisp and the air smells like fallen leaves and wood smoke and the promise of winter, which is less a threat and more a dare. Bring it, October says. I can handle anything after the year I've had.

Mason has settled into first grade like he was built for it. Mr. Adkins runs a classroom that rewards curiosity, and Mason is the most curious child in the room, which is saying something in a class of six-year-olds who are professionally curious. He's reading at a third-grade level now. He brought home a book about volcanoes and summarized it for me with the intensity of a disaster correspondent: "Mama, the LAVA was coming and they had to EVACUATE and the PYROCLASTIC FLOW—" He knows the word "pyroclastic." He is six. I am outmatched.

Lily has adjusted to preschool with the ease of someone who was born to be social. She has three best friends (Maya, a girl named Sophie, and a boy named Wyatt who lets Lily boss him around, which Lily considers an ideal friendship). She comes home with paint on her clothes and glitter in her hair and stories that start in the middle and end abruptly, because four-year-olds do not understand narrative structure. "And then — and then — Mama, a BIRD came in the window!" Whether this happened or was invented is unclear. With Lily, the line between reality and imagination is blurry and beautiful.

I carved pumpkins with the kids on Sunday. Three pumpkins — one for each of us, because this is the new family unit: Mama, Mason, Lily, and the dog who watches us carve pumpkins from a respectful distance because pumpkin guts are beneath his dignity. Mason carved a face with the careful precision of a surgeon. Lily carved what she called "a horse" but which looked like a blob with four lines coming out of it. I carved a traditional jack-o-lantern and put candles inside all three and we set them on the front porch and turned off the lights and the pumpkins glowed orange in the dark and Mason said, "This is the best Halloween ever," and we hadn't even gotten to Halloween yet.

I made pumpkin soup from the pumpkin guts — roasted with garlic and onion, blended smooth, finished with cream and a sprinkle of nutmeg. It is the taste of October, thick and warm and golden, and I served it in mugs because soup in mugs is more fun than soup in bowls, and Mason and Lily held their mugs with both hands and drank pumpkin soup on the front porch by pumpkin light, and the night was cold and clear and ours.

That pumpkin soup on the porch — mugs in small hands, candles flickering inside carved faces — set the tone for the whole rest of October. Once we’d used the guts for soup, I found myself wanting to keep that golden, spiced feeling going all the way through the month, and nothing does that better than a proper pumpkin pie. This is the one I make every fall: simple, deeply spiced, silky in the middle with just enough warmth from the nutmeg to make the whole house smell like the season. Mason declared it “even better than the soup,” which is high praise from a boy who rates everything on a scale of volcano to pyroclastic flow.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 (15 oz) can pure pumpkin puree (or 1 3/4 cups homemade roasted pumpkin puree)
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup whole milk
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 unbaked 9-inch pie crust (store-bought or homemade), chilled
Whipped cream, for serving

Instructions

Preheat & prep. Preheat your oven to 425°F. Place the chilled pie crust in a 9-inch pie dish and crimp the edges. Line with parchment, fill with pie weights or dried beans, and blind-bake for 10 minutes. Remove weights and bake 3 more minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350°F.
Make the filling. In a large bowl, whisk together the pumpkin puree and brown sugar until smooth and fully combined. Add the eggs one at a time, whisking well after each addition.
Add the cream & spices. Whisk in the heavy cream, milk, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, salt, and vanilla extract until the filling is completely smooth and uniform in color.
Fill & bake. Pour the filling into the par-baked crust. Bake at 350°F for 50–55 minutes, until the edges are set and the center has just a slight wobble when gently shaken. If the crust edges brown too quickly, cover them loosely with foil or a pie shield after the first 25 minutes.
Cool completely. Transfer the pie to a wire rack and let it cool to room temperature, at least 2 hours. The filling will continue to set as it cools. Refrigerate if not serving within the hour.
Serve. Slice and serve with a generous dollop of whipped cream and an extra pinch of cinnamon or nutmeg on top if you like.

Nutrition (per serving)

Classic Pumpkin Pie — The Taste of Our October