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Photos by Billie Winter
It wasn’t the ending we hoped for. The sadness was palpable in The Stranger’s Capitol Hill offices the day after the Toronto Blue Jays shattered the Seattle Mariners’ dreams of finally making it to the World Series for the first time in franchise history.
“HOW?” cried out Editor in Chief Hannah Murphy Winter. “That was my least favorite pie! WHO LIKED IT?”
A voice rang out from the crowd gathered around the table. “I did!”
“That was my favorite, too,” said another.
The debating quickly became unintelligible as accusations flew—phrases like “funky whipped cream” and “gelatinous” and “colonial gourd mash” peppered the heated conversation as everyone rushed to defend their palates. No one was talking about baseball—well, Nathalie was talking about baseball—but we were all fixated on the polarizing assortment of pies scattered across the conference table.
Inspired by the seasonal arrival of pumpkin everything, the return of The Great British Bake Off, and the Stranger staff’s (at times obnoxious) passion for debating pretty much anything and everything, we decided to dedicate one late-October afternoon to conducting a pumpkin pie taste test. But we weren’t looking for the best pie in the city. We didn’t visit a single local bakery for our specimens. Instead, we focused on the pies that are the best for what you might need this holiday season, sourcing our selection from eight different grocery store chains around the city: Whole Foods, Safeway, QFC, PCC, Fred Meyer, Costco, Metropolitan Market, and Town & Country.
These are the pies you might buy after accepting a last-minute invitation to a Friendsgiving and not wanting to show up empty-handed. These are the pies you would pick up when you love your family, you really do, but you live in a studio apartment with an unpredictable oven, and even throwing together a Pillsbury crust and a can of Libby’s could end in disaster. These are the pies you buy when drunk, high, sad, and/or just hungry at midnight and eat straight from the tin, spraying Reddi-wip directly into your mouth between bites. They’re not perfect, but they serve a purpose.
A voice of reason broke through. “None of them are good.”
“I thought #2 was,” yelled a defender. “It was squashy! I would buy that pie.”
And just as quickly as calm came, the chaos ensued once more as a dozen taste-testers debated whether a filling should be “wet” or “custard-y” and a crust should be flaky or crumbly. One brave soul motioned to consider the possibility that pumpkin pie is actually not good at all unless acting as a neutral vehicle for mountains of whipped cream. Someone gasped.
We were honestly surprised by the results. Not only was every pie vastly different from the next (save for Fred Meyer and QFC, which are both owned by Kroger), but our tasting panel of 12 Stranger staffers also varied. While some would (and very loudly did) argue there wasn’t a single decent pie in the group, a few folks happily handed out perfect scores to some of the options. Pie is personal. And, for many, pumpkin pie especially is linked to family, tradition, and the holidays—all emotional landmines.
That said, ultimately, the two winners, Safeway and Costco (it was essentially a tie with just a fraction of a point between them), only squeezed out about 16 points of a possible 25 after being rated on appearance, flavor, texture, crust, and overall enjoyability. In elections, that’s a victory! But in the high school grading scale, that’s a solid D. Still, people are gonna buy these pies. Last year Costco reportedly sold more than six million pies countrywide between September and December, and the American Pie Council (a real thing!) reports that “approximately $2 billion in pies are sold in grocery stores every year.”
So if you’re gonna pick up a cheap grocery store pie this season, you won’t be alone. And you may as well make it the best cheap pie money can buy. So read on to find your perfect match, whether you want it wet, extra spicy, or just decent enough to shove in your mouth so you can dodge awkward questions at the holiday dinner table.
Safeway, $10.99
Just a fraction of a point (0.05 if you want exact math) carried Safeway into first place over Costco. Before you get indignant over the Albertson’s-owned grocery chain potentially swaying the results by selling their seasonal pie with a pretty, dessert-table-ready ring of whipped cream, know that our official tasting panel was very torn on whether that was a pro or con. Some liked the addition—multiple voters noted it was “cute”—while others docked the pie points, finding the decoration “too sweet” and being put off by an unidentifiable stabilizer. What was in the whipped cream to keep the peaks stiff, even as the afternoon wore on? It was a hot topic at the office, with guesses ranging from white chocolate to pudding to something “funky.”
“On the sweeter side, which I enjoyed.”
“Cuuuute. This one cheated because it has whipped cream, but the best things in life usually come with whipped cream and cheating anyway.”
“Points for being very wet and very cinnamony.”
“Spices are wrong and late.”
“Flavor isn’t pumpkin, but looks great and good crust.”
Costco, $5.99
Safeway may have won by a fraction of a point, but Costco’s pumpkin pie is far and away the best value. It’s just $5.99 for more than three pounds of pumpkin pie. “Is that a lot of pie?” one pie amateur asked in Slack. Fuck yes, it’s a lot of pie! The thing is massive. To compare, Costco’s pie weighed 58 ounces while Fred Meyer’s last-place dessert came in around 21. It had one of the better crusts, too—somehow Costco has managed to mass-produce a foot-wide pie and not have a soggy bottom. That’s the Kirkland magic, baby.
“Good texture, but just sweet, no pumpkin flavor.”
“Best all around. Still very grocery store, but better than the rest.”
“Crust not super flavorful, but tender and flaky. Nostalgic in a shitty kind of way.”
“Kind of sweet and boring.”
“Crust = saving grace.”
PCC, $19.99
No soggy bottoms here, either! The crust on PCC’s pie got one of the higher scores in the batch, with one taster describing it as “toasty.” Another thought the crust was dry, but that’s nothing a little whipped cream couldn’t handle. That said, this was the priciest pie in the bunch, coming in at $19.99.
“Best crust.”
“Kind of a classic, childhood, mom made it from canned pumpkin and frozen crust recipe.”
“Metallic aftertaste in filling. Tastes like Libby’s pumpkin puree straight from the jar.”
“Nice cinnamon.”
Metropolitan Market, $11.99
Metropolitan Market has a hell of an in-house bakery. Their cakes are consistently superior to other grocery stores’, and their famous chocolate chip cookie (The Cookie) deserves its reputation. The pumpkin pie available for purchase on the day of our taste test, though, came from an outsider, Alki Bakery. Would Met Market have fared better if they made their own? It’s impossible to say. I will say this was the first pie to get claimed after the taste test. The people who liked this pie really liked this pie.
“Actually tastes like pumpkin. Thankful for that.”
“Appearance to enjoyability ratio is way too high. Deceiving.”
“A little gelatinous.”
“Is this a gingerbread cookie?”
“Fluffy custard texture with air holes in cross-section. Flaky crust. Pretty good!”
Whole Foods, $13.99
The crust on Whole Foods’ pie was divisive among voters. The several shouting matches mentioned above? At least two began with this crust. Some liked that it was more cookie-like and tender and crumbly, while others cried blasphemy.
“Decent pumpkin flavor! Classic texture.”
“Pale shortbread cookie-like crust. Pleasant custard. Non-traditional, but I like it.”
“Too sweet.”
“Strong pumpkin taste that fades into chalk.”
Town & Country, $16.99
Just as with Metropolitan Market, the only pumpkin pie available in Town & Country’s bakery came from a wholesaler, Willamette Pumpkin Pie Co. According to their website, you can also find their pies at Metropolitan Market, Albertson’s, Fred Meyer, and Safeway.
“Flavor is classy and strong, crust is bottom of the barrel.”
“Crust was not fully baked. Pie filling both flavorless and nasty.”
“Rustic appearance, which at first made me think it was homemade. Pale, dry crust and not super fresh flavor.”
“Flavorless crust. It had no life.”
QFC, $6.99
That the pies from QFC and Fred Meyer both came in at the bottom supports our tasting panel’s abilities, seeing as how they appeared to be identical. It makes sense—both Fred Meyer and QFC are owned by Kroger and both were bought in the same “Bakery Fresh” packaging with the exact same crust stamped into the tin. Tasters didn’t see the pies in their packaging, and they weren’t placed next to one another in the blind taste test, but the testers’ palates couldn’t be fooled. A bad pie is a bad pie is a bad pie.
“Texture was like gelatin. Crust was flimsy and rubbery. Filling had too much spice.”
“This pie is mean!”
“How is it sour? Is my tongue numb?”
“Kind of dusty/bitter (too much cardamom?). Left unpleasant aftertaste.”
“Seems okay?”
Fred Meyer, $6.49
In last place, we have the pie from Fred Meyer, which appeared to be identical to the pie from QFC. Same “Bakery Fresh” sticker and packaging, same crust stamped into the tin. It makes sense—both Fred Meyer and QFC are owned by Kroger. For some reason, Fred Meyer’s pie was 50 cents cheaper. It ended up at the bottom of the list because one tester found what appeared to be unfortunate, inarguable evidence that someone in the pie processing plant wasn’t wearing a hair net.
“Gross flavor, jiggly jelly firmness.”
“So much jiggle.”
“Strong spice-forward flavor. Unsure how I feel about it.”
“The crust was like chewing a piece of gum.”
“Unnaturally wiggly, tastes like ass.”
Pumpkin Pie Needs Whipped Cream
Don’t Be Afraid to Make It Yourself!
Look. Even the very best pumpkin pie usually benefits from a little assist. Pies like lemon meringue and pecan already have a lot going on, they’re self-contained and prefer to go it alone. They don’t need anyone, or anything. Pumpkin pie, the smooth uni-texture baddie that it is, is a collaborator. Whipped cream is the Simon to pumpkin pie’s Garfunkel; this pie needs whipped cream.
I’ll ask my mother not to read this part—Debbie, next paragraph please—but I secretly love a can of whipped cream. I can’t imagine what they put in it, and I don’t want to. But the difference between real whipped cream and “whipped cream” made in a factory (and then packaged in an aerosol can or plastic tub) is like the difference between the candy flavor “grape” and an actual grape. “Grape” and Reddi-wip may have their place (IN HELL) (complimentary), but nothing beats homemade whipped cream.
Making whipped cream is terribly easy. And you’ll feel like a barefoot contessa, lovingly whipping up a big bowl of it to enhance a pie you may have had to buy at a chain that you wish you could boycott, but life is hard, and you were asked to “bring a dessert,” so you’re doing your very best.
Here’s how to make whipped cream:
Ingredients
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Sugar to taste*
* Some people swear it does not need to be sweetened at all, since cream has a natural sweetness, and the pie will be loaded with sugar as well. You use the amount that’s right for you. I use a couple tablespoons to start out and then go from there.
Directions
Grab a big bowl and throw it in the fridge or freezer for 15-30 minutes if you can. In fact, you’re going to want everything pretty cold, including the beaters—this helps the fat in the cream stay stable, which helps us achieve gorgeous, voluminous heights. Pour the whipping cream, vanilla, and sugar amount of your choice into the bowl and begin beating with a hand mixer* (start on low so it doesn’t splatter). The liquid will start off heavy and still, like rain that hasn’t yet become a cloud. Increase the speed, but not too much—we’re getting where we need to go on a steady medium. The ripples will thicken, and then soft peaks will form (meaning the tips curl gently when you lift the whisk). Continue to build the body up just a bit from here, but don’t go too far or it will clump and turn into a weeping butter ghost of its former self.
Once you have the perfect consistency, it’s showtime. Extra credit: add a dash of cinnamon on top, and/or a shave of nutmeg. Et voilà! We did it!
Don’t have an electric mixer? You can do it by hand with a whisk, Little House on the Prairie style. It will take several minutes. Like, 10-12. Maybe even longer. But it will be worth it and you will leave the experience both physically and mentally stronger. EMILY NOKES