Fireball Pumpkin Pie

New Year's. The tradition. Peas, champagne, MawMaw Shirley's 12:01 call. Mama and Daddy asleep, denied. The year turns. January 8th approaches. Twenty-one. The number that MawMaw Shirley married at, the number that America assigns to adulthood via alcohol, the number that I assign to the last year before the MCAT changes everything.

My birthday came quietly — sweet potato pie, MawMaw Shirley's 9 a.m. call ("Twenty-one. You are old enough to know everything and young enough to know nothing. Both at once. This is the right age."), Daddy's envelope (gas card and grocery card, the practical-love doubleheader), Jada's drawing (the tenth white coat, the most detailed, the stethoscope drawn with an accuracy that suggests Jada actually researched what a stethoscope looks like, which is more effort than most birthday cards receive and which I will treasure forever). I am twenty-one. I am the same person I was at twelve, at sixteen, at eighteen. I am also completely different. Both things are true. MawMaw Shirley said so.

I went back to LSU. Spring semester. Organic Chemistry II. Biochemistry. Anatomy II. Statistics. The course load that separates the pre-med from the general biology students — the courses that say "this person is serious about medical school" in the language that admissions committees read. I am serious. I have always been serious. The seriousness is not a performance. It is who I am.

And the MCAT prep begins in earnest. February. The real prep — not the casual morning studying of the summer, but the structured, daily, four-hour sessions that will consume the next five months. The roux begins. The thirty-five minutes begin. Except these minutes are five months long, and the stirring is constant, and the patience is everything.

Sweet potato pie is what MawMaw Shirley brought every year, and it is what sat on the counter on January 8th, and it is the taste I will always associate with the particular feeling of being twenty-one — old enough to know everything, young enough to know nothing, both at once. When I got back to Baton Rouge and February began and the real prep started, I wanted something that honored that pie but also honored the fact that I am, technically and legally, an adult now. Fireball Pumpkin Pie is what that looks like: the same warm spice, the same custard weight, the same “sit down and mean it” energy — just with a little heat that says the birthday has been noted.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 10 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 (15 oz) can pure pumpkin puree
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup evaporated milk
3 tablespoons Fireball Cinnamon Whisky
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 (9-inch) unbaked pie crust
Whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Place the unbaked pie crust in a 9-inch pie dish, crimp the edges, and set aside.
Mix the filling. In a large bowl, whisk together the pumpkin puree and brown sugar until smooth and fully combined.
Add eggs and dairy. Whisk in the eggs one at a time, then stir in the evaporated milk until the mixture is uniform.
Add the Fireball and spices. Stir in the Fireball Cinnamon Whisky, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and salt. Mix until everything is incorporated and the filling is smooth.
Fill and bake. Pour the filling into the prepared pie crust. Bake at 425°F for 15 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 350°F and continue baking for 35–40 minutes, until the center is just set and a knife inserted near the center comes out clean.
Cool completely. Remove from oven and let the pie cool on a wire rack for at least 2 hours before slicing. The filling will firm up as it cools.
Serve. Slice and serve with whipped cream if desired. Store covered in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fireball Pumpkin Pie — The Pie That Says You’re Old Enough Now