Can a poem be delicious? It can if it’s a poem about Pumpkin Pie. And in this Thanksgiving season, we think it’s the right time to be delicious. So thanks to baby boomer Robert J. McGinness of Columbia, South Carolina, we present his Pumpkin Pie Recipe Poem. It’s no turkey. (And it’s vegan, too.)
Use not the jack-o-lantern breed, think small,
one whose seed your Grandma can recall.
The winter squash will have less moisture, too,
and fibrous marrow will be less to chew.
Sculpt the scalp, and scrape the substance, empty.
Save those stringy, seeds for snacks so tempty.
Then set the hollow shell into a bit
of water in a baking dish to sit,
and bake a while until it’s soft, then you’ll
set it aside until it starts to cool.
The seeds from pumpkin center all will float
in water, then you dry, and then you coat,
and bake, with any seasoning you vote.
The pie crust, sad to say, you buy it frozen,
unless the gods anointed you as chosen,
as one who luscious pastry shells can bake.
So from the freezer, frozen shell you take
to thaw. And while that’s thawing get your blender,
and to this rhyming mix you must surrender:
puree the pumpkin meat but not the skin,
and pour into a bowl and then add in
a cup of almond milk, or maybe soy,
a tablespoon molasses you’ll enjoy;
some maple syrup, and some cinnamon,
some nutmeg, allspice, ginger mixed as one.
Did I mention cornstarch, quarter cup,
and lastly some vanilla, a dollop.
Mix all ingredients until they’re blended,
and pour into the pie shell as intended.
Preheated oven to four twenty five,
and bake until ten minutes doth arrive.
Turn back the oven temp to three five oh,
in fifty minutes or it’s set, you’ll know
that you are done with pumpkin pie, although …
Go now outside to compost, take the scraps,
and after six or seven months elapse,
you’ll have some pumpkin soil, next year, perhaps.