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Favorite Banana Cream Pie -- Because Sometimes a Neighbor Brings You Back

Wood stove running hot. The propane tank topped off. Cattle work this week. Patrick rode in the truck. He pointed out two heifers I had not noticed. He sees things I do not. The work is shared.

Patrick on the porch in the afternoon. Coffee in the good cup. The cottonwoods.

Baked beans for the cookout. Long soak, slow bake. Bacon, brown sugar, mustard.

Tomorrow I move the herd to the upper pasture. That is the next thing.

A reader emailed about the elk chili recipe. Asked what beer to use if non-alcoholic was not available. I wrote back: any beer is wrong if you don't drink. Use stock.

Listened to the cattle market report on AM radio while I worked the shop. Beef is up. Feed is up. The math is the math.

Drove the back fence line Saturday. Two posts down from elk. Replaced them in the morning. The fence held the rest of the week.

Hank, the dog, herded the chickens by accident. He apologized in the way dogs apologize — eyes down, tail low. The chickens were unimpressed.

The Musselshell was clear Sunday. Could see trout in the deeper pools. Did not fish. Just watched.

Worked on the truck Saturday afternoon. Plugs and wires. Two hours. Hands black with grease. Came in. Showered. Ate.

A neighbor's heifer was choking on a corn cob. I drove over with my emergency kit. Cleared the cob with a length of garden hose. The heifer recovered. The neighbor brought a pie the next day.

The wood pile is half what it was at Thanksgiving. I will split another cord on Saturday. The cord will be ready by next winter. The wood always is.

Drove to Billings for parts Friday. Stopped at the cemetery on the way home. Stood for ten minutes. Came home.

Storm came through Friday night. Thunder. The dog hid under the bed. The kids slept through it. The cattle bunched up by the windbreak. Standard.

The Tuesday Roundup AA meeting was eleven this week — three new guys from a referral. The room was full. The coffee was strong.

The barn cats are doing their job. Down to one mouse this week, in the feed shed. The cats brought it to the porch as proof. They are professionals.

Three days of horses this week. The work is meditative. The horses know. The owners pay. The cycle holds.

Mr. Whelan from down the road came over Saturday with a story about a horse he sold in 1979. The story took an hour. I listened. He needed someone to tell it to.

Hauled three bull calves to the auction yard Wednesday. Got a fair price. Came home. Counted the cash. Put it in the ranch account.

Wrote a blog post Friday night. The first one in two months. About making chili in a snowstorm. Short. Practical. Posted it. Forgot about it.

Took a walk to the river before supper Tuesday. The cottonwoods were silver. The water was running. I did not think much. I just walked.

Truck started cold Tuesday. Twelve below. Battery is the original. I will replace it before next winter. I always say I will replace it before next winter. I never have.

Mended the chute hinge Wednesday. Welder was finicky. Got it on the third try. Patrick used to do this. I do it now.

The neighbor brought a pie after I cleared that corn cob from his heifer, and I stood in the kitchen holding it for a minute before I even cut a slice — just grateful for the gesture, the way people still do things like that out here. It got me thinking about this banana cream pie I’ve made a few times for cookouts, the kind that takes real effort but pays you back. After a week of fence posts and frozen mornings and trips to Billings and back, something made from scratch and eaten slow is about all I want.

Favorite Banana Cream Pie

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 3 hrs (includes chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 pre-baked 9-inch pie crust, cooled
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/3 cup cornstarch
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 3 cups whole milk
  • 3 large egg yolks, lightly beaten
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  • 3 to 4 ripe bananas, sliced 1/4-inch thick
  • 2 cups heavy whipping cream
  • 3 tablespoons powdered sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (for whipped cream)

Instructions

  1. Make the custard. In a medium saucepan, whisk together the granulated sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Gradually whisk in the whole milk until smooth. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture begins to thicken and bubble, about 10 to 12 minutes.
  2. Temper the eggs. Slowly ladle about 1/2 cup of the hot milk mixture into the beaten egg yolks, whisking constantly to temper. Pour the egg mixture back into the saucepan and cook for 2 more minutes, stirring, until thick and glossy.
  3. Finish the custard. Remove from heat. Stir in the butter and 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract until fully incorporated. Let cool for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent a skin from forming.
  4. Layer the bananas. Arrange a single layer of banana slices across the bottom of the cooled pie crust. Pour half the warm custard over the bananas. Add another layer of banana slices, then pour the remaining custard over the top, smoothing with a spatula.
  5. Chill the pie. Press a sheet of plastic wrap directly against the surface of the custard to prevent a skin. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or until fully set.
  6. Whip the cream. When ready to serve, beat the heavy whipping cream, powdered sugar, and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla in a chilled bowl until stiff peaks form. Spread or pipe over the chilled pie.
  7. Serve. Slice and serve immediately, or keep refrigerated until ready. Best eaten the day it is made.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 390 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 20g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 175mg

Ryan Gallagher
About the cook who shared this
Ryan Gallagher
Week 514 of Ryan’s 30-year story · Billings, Montana
Ryan is a thirty-one-year-old Army veteran and ranch hand in Billings, Montana, who cooks over open fire because microwaves feel dishonest and because the quiet of a campfire is the only therapy that works for him consistently. He hunts his own elk, catches his own trout, and makes a camp stew that tastes like the mountains smell. He doesn't talk much. But his food says everything.

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