This has nothing to do with Ireland but I thought you might all enjoy hearing about my Norwegian-American pumpkin pie.

When I was 23 my husband and I visited his second cousin in Norway. We were made to feel right at home with him, his wife and two kids. They spoke pretty good English so communication wasn't a problem. A couple of days into the trip the wife said to me "We hear you have pumpkin pie in America". I loved the way she pronounced it - poomp-kin. I assured her that we did indeed have pumpkin pie in the US. She then asked if I had ever made it. Yes. Then she went out to her garden, brought in a huge pumpkin, set it down in front of me on the kitchen counter and asked, "Will you make American pumpkin pie?"

Well what could I say? Where's the can of pumpkin?  I wasn't quite sure whether the pumpkin in the can came out of the center of the pumpkin or somewhere else. 

I attacked the thing with a knife. The center was full of seeds. Definitely not where the "pumpkin" in the cans came from. I inspected it closer. "Think of it as a giant squash" I told myself silently. I discarded the seeds, cut it into chunks and boiled it like potatoes. Then I mashed it up. Hey, it looked like the stuff in the can. I was getting somewhere.

Next problem: no recipe. Try to think of what goes into a pumpkin pie. Ummm...eggs, milk, sugar, spices and I need a crust. Oh-oh no Crisco in Norway. She doesn't even recognize the word. She also does not know what cinnamon, nutmeg or cloves are. The guys are no help because they took the boat and went fishing.

She has butter, water and flour. That will have to be the crust. But I am making a gigantic portion of pumpkin pie in baking dishes that are not pie plates. How much butter, flour and water??? This could be an American disaster!  Even worse it could turn out like my sister's pie crust - suitable only for a swimming pool liner.

I'm really winging it now. She finally understands what "spices" are and produces something that looks like a huge almond and a grater. Thank goodness it is nutmeg. But no cloves or cinnamon so I add lots of nutmeg. The crust doesn't look half bad as I roll it out and put it into several baking pans. I mix up the pumpkin and other ingredients till it smells and looks right and add it to the pans. Oh-oh, the oven has different temperatures than American ovens. Let's guess and see what happens. 

The kitchen starts smelling pretty good and I check on the huge pies every once in a while. They are finally done and put on the counters for cooling. The guys come home and immediately invade the kitchen to see what's up. My husband's second-cousin is in ecstasy when he is told what the stuff is. "Poomp-kin pie! We have never had American poomp-kin pie!! Thank you for making poomp-kin pie!!" Oh-oh...I hope he is still thanking me after he tastes it.  Have I just let America down? Have I destroyed the good name of pumpkin?

The cousin's wife makes a delicious dinner of the fresh seafood the guys brought back. Then comes the big moment. She cuts sections of pie, carefully places them on the plates and serves them for dessert with coffee. We pick up our forks and dig in. 

The crust is light, delicate and flaky. The pumpkin is much better than anything that ever came out of a can. It is the best pumpkin pie I've ever made. What a relief! They love it. I have upheld the honor of American pumpkin pie.    Yes! 

I hope everyone enjoys their pumpkin pie on Thursday.

Michele

P.S. The next day one of their friends stopped by. The cousin's wife met him at the door and burst out proudly, "We have American poomp-kin pie!".