Brown Sugar Topped Squares Revisited: I bought the pan just for these

Today, we are revisiting the first recipe we made from my great-grandmother's book!

Brown Sugar Topped Squares ½ cup butter (or ¼ cup each of butter and shortening) 1 cup dark brown sugar 1 egg 1 egg yolk (save the white for the topping) ½ to 1 tsp cinnamon, if desired 1 tsp vanilla 1½ cups sifted flour ½ tsp baking powder ½ tsp salt         Topping: 1 egg white 1 cup dark brown sugar 1 cup chopped hazelnuts, pecans, or almonds (if desired) Heat oven to 325°. Line a 9"x13" pan with parchment paper. (You don't need to bother with cooking spray, just put the paper into the bare pan.) Cream the butter and sugar. Then beat in the egg, the yolk, the cinnamon (if using), and the vanilla. Beat well. Then sift in the flour, baking powder, and salt. Mix everything together. Place into the pan and spread as much as you can. This is easier if you coat the top of the dough with cooking spray and then pat it out. (You may need to re-spray it a few times if it starts sticking to your hands.) You may not coax it all the way to the edges of the pan-- that's fine, don't worry about it. In a clean bowl with clean beaters, beat the egg white until it forms stiff peaks. Gradually add the sugar, then beat well. Pour this onto the dough and spread it to cover. Sprinkle on the nuts if using, then gently pat them to press them into the topping. Bake about 30 minutes. Cut into squares or bars while warm. Source: handwritten note Notebook of Hannah D. O'Neil (née Hanora Frances Dannehy)

One of my friends flips electronics for a side income, so we often go to thrift shops looking for stuff tagged with notes like UNTESTED or SOLD AS-IS. While he is examining the electronics, I often wander to the kitchen section because I can't be persuaded to care about vintage stereos. I usually leave empty handed, but I recently plonked this on the checkout counter next to a haul of 1990s computer keyboards and an alarm clock with woodgrain sides. (Did you know there are alarm clock collectors? I didn't.)

 

I got this pan because I wanted to bring out a certain special recipe again:

As some readers will recall, we didn't have the right-sized pan or enough brown sugar the last time we made this. (I was housesitting for my parents at the time. Mom doesn't keep as many ingredients on hand since she decided she was three-quarters done with baking.)

Just like before, the recipe yielded very little dough. It looks like a decent amount until you compare it to the vast acreage of pan that it's supposed to cover.

I tried to persuade our dough to get all the way to the edges of the pan, but it didn't quite make it. Fortunately, that ultimately didn't matter.

This is a really fast recipe--- aside from the tedious job of coaxing a small portion of dough across a big pan. We were ready to put on the topping before we knew it. The first time we made this, the topping was so runny that we only needed to tilt the pan a bit. But today, we needed to get out a spatula.

Since we had some pecans lying around from a previous recipe, I sprinkled them on as the recipe says. I mean, how can you go wrong with brown sugar and pecans?

I should have pressed the nuts into the cake before baking. I thought they would sink in, and they didn't. They didn't fall off as soon as you picked up a slice, but they didn't really stay on either.

If you love the taste of brown sugar, this recipe is absolutely meant for you. The now-toasted pecans on top were perfect with it. You might want to add a little bit of cinnamon to the cookie layer, but if you like brown sugar a lot you won't need to.

Mock Pumpkin Pie: or, Cornmeal for dessert

What do you do when carrots are too expensive?

Mock Pumpkin Pie 1 unbaked pie shell 1½ cups cornmeal mush* ½ cup brown sugar or molasses ½ tsp cinnamon ½ tsp nutmeg ½ tsp salt 1 tsp ginger 2 eggs, separated 2 cups scalded milk Whipped cream, sweetened to taste Heat oven to 350°. Mix the cornmeal, sugar (or molasses), spices, salt. Whisk in the milk. Beat the yolks in a small bowl til light and lemon-colored, then stir them in. Beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Then fold them in. (They will probably float in a separate layer on top.) Pour into the pie pan and bake until firm. (Mine took about 40 minutes, but keep in mind I halved the recipe and made a small pie.) Serve with whipped cream on top. *If you don't know how to make cornmeal mush, here is a recipe. Cut the ingredient amounts in half. Source: Mrs. Mary Martensen's Century of Progress Cook Book (recipes from The Chicago American), 1933, via The Internet Archive

We're starting 2026 with severe economizing, but with also a bit of adventure. Can you really turn cornmeal into a pumpkin pie? I'm willing to believe Mrs. Mary Martensen after she showed us that you can make cherries out of cranberries and raisins. 

Mrs. Mary Martensen's Century of Progress Cook Book (recipes from The Chicago American), 1933

When read I the recipe title, I thought we would start by mashing carrots (as was a common pumpkin substitute at the time). But this pie is apparently meant for people who can't even afford a few carrots, because today we are using... this!

This is a pot of "cooked cornmeal," which presumably meant cornmeal mush. I'm pretty sure most people making mock pumpkin pie in 1933 would have known how to make cornmeal mush, but I had to look it up. (I didn't plan on learning bygone skills before we got past the ingredient list.) 

At first I thought that starting this pie by making porridge was a lot of effort (and another dirty pot in an era before dishwashers). Then I realized that someone at the time might have simply made enough cornmeal mush in the morning to save a little for a future pie.

At any point in the recipe, I could have just reheated the bowl contents for breakfast. (And if we were on a Depression-era budget, I could have also served it for lunch and dinner.) 

 Some of the cornmeal mush stayed in little hard yellow lumps that refused to break up. I had to get out a whisk and really flog it. I guess you should always expect to put in a lot of work when you're making ingredients act twice their cost.

 

I thought this was one of those "just stir it together" kind of recipes, but the directions tell to beat the egg yolks until light (well, the single egg yolk since I halved the recipe). This seemed more pointless than any other step. But just in case it mattered, I had at it with a whisk until it looked slightly aerated and then lost interest. Can you see the difference?

I gave this a taste after adding the milk. And... well, it was hot milk with sugar and spices in it. The cornmeal didn't change the flavor as much as I thought it would.

When we got around to working in the egg whites, they floated on top instead of mixing in. I had a hard time breaking them up. Maybe this is supposed to be like one of those sponge puddings that separate into a custard layer with a cake-ish layer on top?

You can really see the layering if we look at the bowl from the side.

While I was waiting on the oven, it occurred to me that if someone wanted to sell this recipe in this millennium, they could easily rename it "polenta pie."

I decided this pie would be easier to cut if I got it out of the pan first. I note this because my great-grandmother's pie clippings yielded a pie that I could flip out of the pan and then right-side-up again without any structural failures.

Before we hide this under cream, let's see what this recipe gave us. If you dimmed the lights and squinted, it was almost pumpkin-pie colored on top. We have a sort of extra-shiny surface layer like you get on brownies, which I think was nice. The egg white foam on top almost looked scrambled even though it wasn't. And the layer underneath looks like an unremarkable beige custard.

I only put whipped cream on top because the recipe told me to. And let's be realistic, this pie probably needed all the help it could get. Then I realized the cream might be the costliest part of this pie.

I didn't like this very much. But, I have a hard time getting too snipe-y about a recipe that is clearly meant to make a dessert out of nothing. So let's try to have a nuanced opinion here.

First, does it taste like pumpkin pie?

It tasted like pumpkin-spice. Which is not the same. And there were still little granules of cornmeal suspended in it. They were cooked soft, so there wasn't any grit in the pie. But contrary to my expectations they didn't take on enough water to dissolve.

Is it any good?

Well, it's better than I expected. Honestly, with a better mix of spices it could be pretty decent. I don't think I'll make it again, but I didn't throw away my half-finished slice either.

Was it worth the dish pileup in the sink?

I guess if you're on a really stretched budget and no one wants another water pie (or its close relative vinegar pie) for dessert.

Final thought:

This recipe successfully turned some dry pantry staples into a pie. It's not the best pie I've ever had, but it is very good at what it's meant to be.