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The key to butter syrup is the amount of time the butter-sugar-milk mixture gets to bubble away on the stove. About 7 minutes is perfect. Less than that, and the syrup will be a little too thin. Don't get me wrong - it will be delicious no matter what, but it will not fully come together until its had its 7 minutes of simmering.
If you let it bubble too long, I suppose it could get too thick. I have not ever been in danger of making this mistake - I'm always in a hurry to finish the syrup and get on to eating breakfast!
This recipe makes about a cup of syrup, which is more than adequate for 2-3 people. If you have more than 4 people who will be partaking, then double the recipe, just to be sure.
That ~1 cup of liquid will bubble up while it is cooking. As in, it will at least double in size when you add the baking soda. So make sure your pan is large enough to accommodate that sudden increase in volume!
The syrup does settle back down as it cools, however, so you do not need to worry about the serving pitcher. Anything that can hold 1-2 cups of liquid will be adequate.
Despite its name, the Dutch baby as we know it is an American dish. It is most closely associated with Manca's Cafe, a family-owned restaurant in Seattle that became famous for serving small, dramatically puffed pancakes during the first half of the twentieth century.
Gluten-Free Dutch Baby, straight from the oven
According to the history preserved by the Manca family, restaurant owner Victor Manca developed the dish, and one of his daughters may have given it the name "Dutch baby." The explanation is that "Dutch" is the child's mispronunciation of Deutsch (i.e. German).[source] It is a charming story, though the exact details are difficult to confirm this many years later.
Manca's may have coined the name and popularized its own version, but the general idea of an oven-baked puffy pancake was already in circulation. Victor Hirtzler included a recipe simply called "German Pancake" in the 1919 edition of The Hotel St. Francis Cook Book. The recipe goes as follows:
German pancakes. Two eggs, one-half cup of milk, one-half cup of flour, a pinch of salt, a little nutmeg and one teaspoonful of sugar. Mix well. Have a large frying pan ready with hot butter. Be sure and have the butter run all over the inside of the pan so the pancake will not stick to the sides when it rises. Pour in the batter and place in oven. When nearly done, powder with sugar and put back in oven to brown. Serve with lemon and powdered sugar.[source]
A familiar formula, right?
So why the name "German pancake"? Many sources - including the Manca family - suggest that it was inspired by the German Pfannkuchen. That may be true, though traditional Pfannkuchen are usually cooked on the stovetop and look more like what Americans would call crepes.[source]
In practice, the Dutch baby has just as much in common with a popover or Yorkshire pudding. All three begin with a thin, egg-heavy batter, and rise dramatically in the oven before sinking again as they cool. The Dutch baby is essentially the sweeter, larger member of that same wonderfully puffy family of baked goods.
Whatever its exact ancestry, the dish that came out of Seattle became something distinctly American: part pancake, part popover, and impressive enough to make an ordinary breakfast feel like a special occasion.
This gluten-free flatbread recipe makes a great gluten-free deep dish pizza crust - no modifications needed!
I searched for years for a good gluten-free pizza dough recipe. The default is usually thin crust, and don’t get me wrong: I love a good thin crust pizza. But there is something so satisfying about a thick, doughy pizza crust, slathered in tomato sauce and covered with cheese and toppings. I tried different gluten-free pizza dough recipes for years, but most of them turned out just... okay.
This dough makes an actually good 12" pizza crust.
To use it for pizza, mix the dough as directed. Instead of dividing it into individual portions, roll the whole batch into one large round. I usually make a nice thick 12-inch crust, but you can roll it thinner if you prefer.
Lightly oil your pizza pan with olive oil, then transfer the dough to the pan and bake for 20 minutes at 400°F. At this point, the crust will be partially baked, but not finished. Add your sauce, cheese, and desired toppings, then return the pizza to the oven for another 10 minutes, or until the cheese is bubbly and golden.
This gluten-free sourdough flatbread is one of those practical recipes that earns its place in the kitchen. It is quick enough to make without planning ahead, flexible enough to fold around eggs, falafel, or gyro fillings, and flavorful enough to eat warm from the pan with butter or ghee. And if you have a little extra time, the dough only gets better with a short rest or an overnight ferment in the refrigerator.
It is also wonderfully adaptable. Cook a few rounds for lunch, save the rest of the dough for tomorrow, or roll the whole batch into a thick, satisfying gluten-free pizza crust. However you use it, this recipe is a simple way to turn sourdough discard and whole grain flours into something warm, useful, and genuinely delicious.
In the USA, the word biscuit usually brings to mind a round, soft, buttery quick bread. American biscuits are made by cutting butter into flour, then using baking powder or baking soda to help them rise. But that is not the universal meaning of the word. Biscuit comes from the French bescuit, which in turn came from the Latin biscoctum, which means "twice baked."[source] The original biscuit was a hard, crunchy bread that had been baked twice to dry it out and help it keep longer - not the tender, fluffy American biscuit we know today. That older meaning is still closer to the way the word is used in the UK, where biscuit usually refers to a crisp cookie.
Biscuits came to the American colonies as hardtack: hard "ship’s biscuits" baked until dry enough to survive a long voyage. They were useful, portable, and practical, but not exactly the kind of bread anyone was excited to pull warm from the oven. Once the colonies were more established, biscuits began to change. Cooks added butter or lard, making them richer, and developed "beaten biscuits," which were beaten by hand to work air into the dough.
That process could take an hour or more, and the results were still flatter and more cracker-like than the biscuits we know today. Because they required so much labor, beaten biscuits were most common in households with plenty of kitchen help, and fresh morning biscuits became something of a status symbol.[source]
The real turning point came in the mid-1800s, with the rise of chemical leaveners. Baking soda was used starting in the 1830's, and by the 1850's the soda had been further stabilized and was being sold as something closer to modern baking powder. Those leaveners were the final puzzle piece, allowing biscuits to become lighter, fluffier, and much closer to the tender quick bread we mean when we say "biscuit" today.[source]
Gluten-free sourdough discard biscuits are one of my favorite ways to turn extra starter into something warm, buttery, and genuinely useful. They are quick enough for breakfast, hearty enough for dinner, and close enough to a classic American biscuit that you do not feel like you are settling for the gluten-free version.
Now all that is left is to bake a batch. Head back up to the recipe card and get those biscuits in the oven, or keep scrolling for more gluten-free sourdough recipes to try.
It takes a bit of time, after all, to maintain a sourdough starter and regularly bake fresh bread. Which raises the question - is all this effort worth it?
I make bread every few days, so of course my answer is an enthusiastic yes. While gluten free options are becoming more common all the time - in supermarkets, and even in the occasional dedicated gluten-free bakery - many of these options suffer from the same issues. So many store-bought gluten free breads are overly dry, crumbly, or stale tasting. They are serviceable when toasted, buttered, or used as sandwich bread. But on their own, they leave a great deal to be desired.
The reason for this is that most of these store-bought gluten free breads are made primarily from starch, not whole grain flour. Presumably they do this to mimic white wheated bread, but the end result is not remotely similar. And it is probably not very good for you either.
So the solution is to make your own bread.
In addition to being able to use good quality whole grain flour in your bread, baking at home lets you take advantage of the magic of fermentation. During that long, slow rise, the yeasts and bacteria in the starter begin working on the flour before the loaf ever reaches the oven. They create the tangy flavor and aroma we associate with sourdough, while also breaking down some of the more complex parts of the grain.
That slow breakdown is part of what makes sourdough different from a quickly mixed loaf. Fermentation essentially gives digestion a head start, making some of the nutrients in the flour more available in the finished bread. Micronutrients such as calcium, sodium, zinc, and magnesium are present in many flours, including gluten-free ones, but are not always easy for the body to extract. FODMAPs - a type of carbohydrate some people have trouble digesting - are also broken down in the fermentation process, meaning that sourdough bread is less likely to cause bloating.[source] In other words, sourdough does not just taste nicer; the fermentation process unlocks the nutritional potential of your loaf.
Sourdough bread is not naturally gluten free. Traditional sourdough bread is usually made with wheat flour, and wheat contains gluten. Fermentation may change the digestibility of bread, but it does not make a regular wheat sourdough loaf safe for someone with celiac disease or a serious gluten intolerance.
That is why this recipe starts with gluten-free flours and a gluten-free sourdough starter. You still get the flavor and benefits of a long, slow fermentation - the tangy flavor, the better texture, the wonderful fresh-bread smell - without relying on wheat. It is not about making wheat sourdough “safe.” It is about building a naturally fermented loaf from gluten-free ingredients from the beginning.
And that, to me, is the real virtue of homemade gluten-free sourdough. You get to choose whole grain flours, avoid the starch-heavy loaves from the grocery store, and create something that actually feels like bread again: crusty, flavorful, nourishing, and worth slicing warm from the pan.
Once you have a healthy starter going, bread is only the beginning. That same tangy, bubbly starter can be used in all sorts of gluten-free bakes, from flatbread to biscuits and beyond.
In order to make anything sourdough, you first need a sourdough starter. A starter is a simple mixture of flour and water that captures wild yeasts and beneficial bacteria, creating the natural fermentation that gives sourdough its tangy flavor and gentle rise. Once active, it can be added to gluten-free breads, pancakes, biscuits, flatbreads, and more, bringing both flavor and some of the nutritional benefits of fermentation.
The basic process is simple: mix flour and water in a clean jar, then let it rest on your countertop in a warm spot out of direct sunlight. Each day, discard about half of the starter and feed what remains with fresh flour and water. After a few days, you should begin to see bubbles, and after about a week, your starter should be active enough to use in your first gluten-free sourdough recipes.
A healthy rice-based gluten-free sourdough starter
As long as you keep a sourdough starter, you need to keep feeding it. Feeding simply means giving the wild yeasts and bacteria fresh flour and water so they have something new to eat. A healthy starter will keep bubbling, rising, and developing flavor as long as it is fed regularly.
The more starter you keep, the more flour it will need. This is why most sourdough instructions tell you to discard part of the starter before each feeding. Discarding keeps the amount manageable, so you are not feeding a larger and larger jar of starter every day (and thus using more and more flour). You can throw the discard away, or add it to baked goods like pancakes, flatbread or biscuits. These "discard" recipes are not fermented, but they reduce wasted flour.
For a gluten-free starter, the flour you choose matters. Most whole grain gluten-free flours can be used, but they each behave a little differently. Some have a stronger flavor, or different texture or color. I have personally tried brown rice flour, white rice flour, sorghum flour, teff flour, and buckwheat flour, and each one has its own personality.
Below are my notes on the flours I have used, what I liked about them, and where they worked best in a gluten-free sourdough starter.
Brown rice flour is a staple in my gluten-free baking. It gives the starter yeasts and bacteria enough nutrition to stay active, but it is still mild and easy to bake with. I think of it as a good baseline flour for a gluten-free starter.
White rice flour is milder and starchier than brown rice flour. I have mostly used it when I wanted a lighter-colored starter for recipes like sourdough Christmas cookies. It is pale and slightly gummy, and in my experience, it does not seem to rise quite as quickly as some whole grain flours.
Buckwheat flour is traditionally used in fermented foods, but I found that it behaved oddly in my starter. It gave the mixture a stretchy texture and a pinkish cast. The texture was not a problem, but the color looked uncomfortably close to bad bacterial growth, so I stopped using buckwheat in my starter.
Sorghum flour is one of my go-to options for feeding a gluten-free starter. It is a solid whole grain flour that keeps the starter active without adding an overpowering flavor. One of my favorite starter combinations is a 50/50 split of sorghum flour and teff flour.
Teff flour is a standout in terms of nutrition, and it is one of my favorite flours to use in both starter and baking. It is a dark flour, so it will give your starter a brown tint. That works beautifully in bread, though I have been less pleased with it in lighter recipes like cookies or biscuits, where I want a softer flavor and color.
One small oddity with teff: when a teff based starter gets hungry, it burbles out black or dark grey liquid. This looks very disconcerting, but don't worry! Its not any strange growth, just the tint from the flour.
For more information on the various gluten free flours, check out my flour and baking guides.
Gluten-free sourdough buns
Gluten-free sourdough "discard" pancakes
Gluten-free sourdough "discard" biscuits
Just because you start with one flour, or one combination of flours, does not mean you have to use it forever. Sourdough starter is flexible, and it will gradually adjust to whatever you feed it.
For instance, you might begin with a sorghum and brown rice flour combination, then later decide that teff or white rice flour works better for the recipes you want to make. Or you may want a darker, heartier starter for bread and a lighter starter for cookies or holiday baking. Adapting your starter is simple: just begin feeding it with the new flour.
Over the course of a few days of feeding and discarding, the starter will begin to take on the character of its new flour base. I have changed my starter from rice-based, to sorghum-based, to teff-based. I have also taken part of an active starter and used it to create a separate white rice starter for holiday baking. The only real caveat is that the starter needs a few days to adjust, so plan ahead if you want to use it in a specific recipe.
So, what happens if you forget to feed your starter?
Terrible, awful things. Enter: mold and bad bacteria.
Forgetting to feed your starter for one day is usually not a big deal. It may separate a bit, develop a layer of liquid on top, or bubble sullenly at you from the jar. Just stir it back together, discard a portion, feed it again, and it should recover.
The bigger problems begin when a starter is neglected for several days, especially while it is still young. When a starter is healthy and well fed, the good yeasts and bacteria help keep the mixture acidic and active. When those microbes are underfed and weak, unwanted growth has a much better chance of taking over. An older, established starter may give you more room for error, but any starter with visible mold, fuzzy growth, pink or orange streaks, or a truly rotten smell should be thrown away. The smell is an especially good indicator of the health of your starter. If it stops smelling like food, and starts smelling foul, toss it.
What kind of mold or bacterial growth appears will depend on your kitchen environment. I once lost two starters to a pinkish growth that smelled vaguely like bad cheese. The first time, my starter was a few months old and I had no backup in the fridge, so I had to throw the whole thing out and start again.
The wisdom of the internet suggested that I may have been dealing with serratia marcescens, a pink-colored bacteria that likes damp environments. Since that same bacteria is often found in the dark corners of bathrooms, I decided not to play games with it. Its best to be safe in anything involving fermentation - when in doubt, throw it out.
Frozen sourdough starter disks - a great way to ensure you will never loose your aged starter
Sourdough starter takes a week to be ready to bake with, but many weeks (if not months or years) to achieve the best flavor and rise. You'll see bakeries bragging about how they have twenty year old starters - or older! In general, the older the starter, the better it is. So while you can always start over, the goal is to keep your starter healthy and happy for the long haul.
Your starter will grow and mature the fastest at room temperature, or slightly above. That means leaving it on the counter (or unheated oven) and feeding it every day - if not twice a day. But while this is the best way to get your starter into top form, it is also where your starter has the most chance to go bad. So to protect your starter, make sure to always use distilled water. You don't want to introduce new bacteria into your starter that the good yeasts aren't prepared to fight. Nor do you want to kill your yeasts with chlorine from the tap. Distilled water is pure and unproblematic.
In addition, make sure to clean your container at least once a week. Bits of extra flour and starter inevitably end up smeared all the way to the rim of any container, no matter how well you scrape it down every feeding. Those bits of flour are separated from the main body of the yeasts, and so more vulnerable to mold. Moving your starter into a new clean and sterilized container keeps everything healthy.
As you can see, starter maintenance takes regular care. But life happens. Vacations happen. It is not always feasible (or economical) to keep your starter fed for months on end of maximal growth. Fortunately, yeasts go dormant when exposed to cold. The refrigerator and freezer are your best friends in preserving your starter.
Once your starter is old enough to use - so at least a week old - you can put it in the fridge at any time. This will slow down its growth, meaning you only have to feed it once a week (if that, I've left mine for as long as two weeks and still been able to wake it). This keeps it from going bad just because life got in the way of feeding it for a few days.
The only disadvantage of using the refrigerator to preserve your starter is that you will need to "wake it up" every time you want to bake. This means taking the starter out, putting it in a warm place, and feeding it to get the fermentation started again. After a few hours (~4ish, depending on how warm it is), your starter will be active and rising again, though you may need to wait longer for it to rise and be in peak baking condition.
Essentially, you will need to plan ahead every time you want to bake with starter from the fridge. But that is often a reasonable price to pay for keeping your unique colony of wild yeasts healthy.
Gluten free sourdough loaf - the goal of starter care
Once you have a starter you are happy with, consider freezing a little as a backup. The freezer is one of the easiest ways to preserve sourdough starter long-term, since the cold slows the yeasts and bacteria down so much that they can rest there for months, or even longer.
To freeze your starter, portion it out first instead of freezing one large blob. I like using a silicon disk mold for this because the starter freezes into neat little portions that are easy to pop out and store. Once the disks are fully frozen, move them into a labeled freezer bag or reusable silicone bag so you know exactly what they are and when you froze them.
To revive frozen starter, take out 1-2 disks and let them thaw in a clean glass jar. Once thawed, feed the starter the same way you would feed a fresh starter. After about three days of regular feeding, it should be bubbly, active, and ready to use again.
Once your gluten-free sourdough starter is active, it becomes a little kitchen companion you can keep feeding, adapting, and using in all kinds of baking. It may seem mysterious at first, but the process is simple: flour, water, time, and a little regular care.
With a good jar, a few reliable gluten-free flours, and a simple feeding routine, you can keep your starter healthy for breads, flatbreads, biscuits, pancakes, and more. Below, I’ve gathered a few helpful supplies for making and storing your starter, followed by answers to some common gluten-free sourdough questions.
My family is gluten free for health reasons, so I am always happy when a recipe is naturally gluten free from the start. This one is exactly that: no special substitutions, no complicated swaps, just sugar, water, egg whites, and vanilla doing what they were meant to do.
It is also naturally dairy free, which is what first drew me to Italian meringue a few years ago. For a stretch of time, I needed to avoid dairy while nursing my baby daughter, and between that and our usual gluten-free baking, dessert started to feel a little complicated. Finding a frosting that was naturally both gluten free and dairy free felt like a real win, and this one has stayed a favorite ever since.
At its heart, meringue is a simple idea: whipped egg whites and sugar. And while electric mixers have certainly made life easier, dedicated cooks were beating egg whites by hand long before modern meringue ever got its name.
Turrón (nougat), a later Spanish take on Natif
image taken by Jonathan Pincas, license.
In al-Warraq's The Book of Dishes from 10th century Baghdad there is a mention of a candy recipe called Harrani Natif. This recipe involved heated honey, beaten egg whites, spices, and the chef's choice of dried fruits or nut additions. In the translation of the recipe by Muna Salloum and Leila Salloum Elias the basic steps of heating sugar (or honey in this case), and then cooking and whipping eggs whites is very reminiscent of modern swiss meringue or nougat. And the final instruction really puts into perspective what it was like to make egg white based recipes before the invention of the modern electric whisk, as al-Warraq explains,
"The amount of time needed to beat it is three hours until it firms up, God willing."[source]
Needless to say, this was a candy for Caliphs, Kings, and nobles. The technique was popular enough, however, that it eventually made it from Baghdad to Europe and, by the 16th century, had informed the development of the Spanish Turrón and Italian Torrone, which are both similar nougat-like candies.
By the early 1600s, we can see a very recognizable meringue ancestor appear in European cookbooks. In 1604, Lancelot de Casteau included a recipe for neige sèche, or "dry snow," in his Ouverture de Cuisine. This "dry snow" was a cooked meringue, quite similar to Italian meringue, though flavored with rose water and spices.[source] De Casteau described it as cream-like, which suggests a texture not unlike the Italian meringue we know today, though it was served on its own rather than used as a frosting. De Casteau served as chef to several bishops of Liège in present-day Belgium, and wrote his cookbook near the end of his career, likely recording recipes he had been preparing for many years.
That same year, an English meringue ancestor appears in Elinor Fettiplace’s Receipt Book under the name "white bisket bread," made with sugar, flour, and egg whites. An interesting thing about Fettiplace's Receipt Book is that it was not, in fact, published in her lifetime or necessarily meant to be. Instead, it was a family cookbook which was passed along to Fettiplace's niece, and only published by her family in 1986.[source] Fettiplace herself came from an upper-class family, but she was not necessarily the "inventor" of the recipes she recorded. As with so many old cookbooks, she was likely writing down a preparation that had already been made in England, and perhaps elsewhere in Europe, for quite some time.
The word meringue itself does not appear in print until later in the seventeenth century, most commonly tied to François Massialot's 1692 cookbook, Nouvelle instruction pour les confitures, les liqueurs et les fruits.[source] Massialot was something of a celebrity chef in his day, who worked for the Duke of Orleans and planned dinners at Versailles. But we do not know if he gave meringues their name - the origin of the word is murky, even if the technique itself was well known in the 17th century.
However uncertain the origin of the name, the appeal of meringue is wonderfully clear. It takes a few humble ingredients and turns them into something light, elegant, and unexpectedly special. If you are looking for a frosting that feels lighter than buttercream, a little more elegant, and naturally fits both gluten-free and dairy-free baking, Italian meringue is your answer. It takes a bit of attention, but the process is far more approachable than it first appears. And your reward is a delicious pillowy swirl of marshmallowy goodness.
Chocolate cake has a way of marking the moments that matter, from celebrations to quiet evenings at home. Making it from scratch brings a level of care and intention that is hard to replicate any other way. With the right ingredients and a thoughtful approach, you can create a cake that is every bit as rich, soft, and satisfying as any wheat-based cake. You don't have to sacrifice on flavor or texture, just because you are gluten-free.
Sugar Cream or Hoosier pie comes from the Midwest, and is often credited to the Shaker or Amish communities in Indiana. The oldest known recipe purports to be from 1816 - which is also, incidentally, the year Indiana became a state - but perhaps it was being made even before then.[source]
The pie is traditionally made with ingredients that would have been common in a farm pantry in the 19th century: milk or cream, sugar, and maybe eggs. The eggs are actually a very controversial ingredient; the traditional sugar cream pie is a very simple mix of cream, flour, and sugar which you mix up with your hands in the pie plate itself to avoid whipping the cream (hence another name, "Finger Pie"). The addition of eggs makes it into more of a custard pie - which is delicious, but a slightly different thing.
Because sugar cream pie is made from simple pantry ingredients, it is often grouped with what are now called “desperation pies.” These are pies that rely on staples like sugar, dairy, and eggs rather than seasonal ingredients such as fresh fruit. They became especially common in times and places where access to fresh produce was limited, whether due to season, geography, or economic constraint.[source]
The term itself is modern, but it reflects a very real pattern in traditional cooking: making something satisfying from what was readily available. In that context, "desperation pies" offered a way to create a dessert without relying on ingredients that were not always accessible.
Of course, today we have year-round access to fresh and frozen fruit, and good cream is often one of the more expensive ingredients in this recipe. Still, the idea behind the pie remains compelling. It is a reminder that simple ingredients, used well, can produce something rich, comforting, and enduring.
Clifty Falls State Park, Indiana
Waterfalls and pie, what's not to love?
Among the many names for sugar cream pie is the rather curious moniker "Hoosier Pie." The name points directly to its Indiana origins, where the dessert has long been a staple and a point of local pride.
But what, exactly, is a Hoosier?
Today, the answer is simple: a Hoosier is a resident of Indiana. The term has been in common use since at least the early 1800s and is now the official demonym for the state. Indiana residents have embraced it so fully that it appears everywhere, from university teams to everyday conversation.[source]
Where the word came from, however, is much less certain.
The first written instances of the word Hoosier crop up in the 1830's, and almost immediately after, people began asking the question of where the odd word had come from. They didn't know back then either, but some entertaining possibilities were suggested. One such possibility was that it came from the phrase "Who’s here?" shouted between cabins. Another was that it referred to the pugnacious nature of Indiana rivermen, who were so good at fighting and shutting up anyone who offended them that they became "Hushers" and then that term turned into Hoosier.
A slightly more serious etymological suggestion is that the word is related to the old English word "hoo" which meant "hill." In other words, that it started as a reference to "hill people" living in Appalachia, and then, as those people moved down into the Midwest, was applied to their descendants living in Indiana.[source]
In the end, no one knows for certain. What began as a mysterious nickname has become a badge of identity, and in the case of sugar cream pie, a reminder of the region where the dish took root.
Given its deep roots in the region, it is no surprise that sugar cream pie is widely considered the unofficial state pie of Indiana. While there was an effort in 2009 to formally recognize it, the bill ultimately did not pass.[source] Even so, the association has endured, and websites like visitindiana.com refers to it as the state’s "official unofficial" pie.
In practice, the distinction hardly matters. Sugar cream pie has been part of Indiana’s culinary identity for generations, long before any formal designation was proposed. It is a pie tied to place, to history, and to the habits of everyday kitchens.
From its roots as a pantry-based dessert to its place as a Midwestern classic, sugar cream pie reflects a way of cooking that values simplicity and resourcefulness. It does not rely on elaborate ingredients or complicated technique, but instead on doing a few things well.
That same idea carries through to the gluten-free version. With good ingredients and a careful approach, the result is just as rich, smooth, and satisfying as any traditional pie.
Now that the practical details are out of the way, let's step back for a moment to appreciate where this pie comes from. Pumpkin pie is more than just a reliable holiday dessert. It is part of a much older story, one that begins in early American kitchens and continues today, especially here in Illinois, where pumpkins are still grown in abundance.
Pumpkin is a New World food and was not part of the European diet before the colonization of the Americas. Long before that, however, pumpkins and other squash were cultivated and used as staple foods by Indigenous peoples for thousands of years. They were valued for their productivity, storage life, and versatility, and were prepared in many different ways depending on the region and season. But they weren't baked into pies.[source]
Pies are a very Old World dish.[source] When English colonists arrived in North America, they quickly adopted pumpkin into their own cooking. And while the ingredient itself was entirely new to them, the idea of baking food in a pastry crust was deeply familiar. Pie, after all, was a well-established part of English food tradition. In this way, pumpkin pie became a true meeting of Old World and New World cooking, combining a native American crop with a European technique.
Even the name reflects this layered history. The word pumpkin comes from older word pumpion, which traces its roots back through French and ultimately to ancient Greek, where it simply meant "melon."[source] While pumpkins and melons seem quite different to us today, both belong to the broader family of gourds, and the colonists classified them accordingly.
By the 1600s, pumpkins had become a regular part of the New England diet. Being a native plant, they were easy to grow, and were used in soups, stews, and early forms of pie. These first pumpkin pies were not the smooth custard we know today. Instead, they were often made by layering sliced pumpkin with spices inside a crust.
Over time, the recipe evolved. By the late 1700s, cooks began stewing or roasting pumpkin and combining it with eggs, cream, sugar, and spices to create a smooth custard filling.[source] This version proved enduring, and it remains the foundation of pumpkin pie today.
While pumpkin pie began in the kitchens of New England, its center of gravity has shifted over time. Today, the heart of pumpkin production lies firmly in the Midwest, and especially here in Illinois. And in case it was not enough that pumpkin pie is delicious and a Thanksgiving staple, it is also the official state pie of Illinois. Since 2015, pumpkin pie has held that distinction, recognizing the important role pumpkins play in the state’s agriculture.[source]
Illinois produces roughly 85 percent of the pumpkin consumed in the United States, much of it grown in the rich farmland of central Illinois. These pumpkins become the fillings of countless pies each year, connecting local fields to tables across the country.
So if you are from Illinois, enjoying a slice of pumpkin pie is more than just a seasonal pleasure. It is a small way of participating in a tradition rooted in the land itself. Baking it yourself, especially with fresh pumpkin and whole-grain gluten-free flours, continues that tradition in your own kitchen. Click the button below to see the full recipe and instructions.
The origins of pie stretch back into the mists of time, but the modern pie has its roots solidly in medieval England. The word itself harkens back at least to the early 1300's, and referred to a pastry filled with various fillings - usually meat or savory, as fruit pies did not become common until a few hundred years later. Some people also speculate that the word "pie" could be related to "Magpie," since the fillings can be as varied as the bird's collections.[source] Pie was entirely about the fillings in the Middle Ages, with the crust being merely a vehicle to contain, cook, and then get those fillings to your mouth.
In fact, the crust - referred to as the pie's "coffin" back then - was designed for sturdiness over taste. There was no fat and no pie plate involved. The base was flour and water, with possibly some salt or sugar, and saffron for color (if someone was writing down a pie recipe back then, it was for a lord on a special occasion, hence the use of expensive ingredients).[source] The modern hot water crust is the direct descendent of these early pie crusts, which were not for eating. They were designed to contain and preserve the filling inside, while looking suitably impressive.
Fat - lard or butter - came into use in crusts from the 16th century on, so by the time the English colonists brought their beloved pies over to the New World, they were closer to what we would recognize as pie today. They still made stand-alone crusts, but the use of dishes or pie plates was prevalent by the first half of the 1800's. Mary Randolph, in The Virginia Housewife from 1824 mentions putting your "paste" (pie crust) in a "shallow dish or plate."[source] We also have an advertisement from a Raleigh, North Carolina newspaper in 1853 offering tin pie plates as part of a "house furnishing set," suggesting that a dedicated pie plate was already a familiar part of any household by the 1850's.[source]
From there, pie and its crust continued evolving through the 1800's and 1900's into the desserts and hearty pies we know and love today. The crust, which began as a simple vehicle for preserving and carrying food became one of the most beloved parts of the dish. A good modern pie crust still does the old work of holding and protecting the filling - but now we expect more from it. We want flavor. We want tenderness. We want something sturdy enough to support the pie, but good enough to deserve a bite all on its own.
For centuries, pie crust was asked to be useful first and delicious second. These days, we get to ask for both. A good pie crust should support the filling, add its own flavor and texture, and make the whole pie feel complete. That is exactly what this gluten free pie crust is meant to do - bring buttery richness, dependable structure, and that satisfying homemade quality that turns filling into pie. And once you have a crust like that, the only question left is what to fill it with.
