Hamburger Pie

My Mom's Hamburger Pie: A Childhood Culinary Trauma (and a Recipe!)

Let me paint you a picture: a steaming casserole dish, its aroma wafting through the kitchen. Inside, a comforting layer of seasoned ground beef and vegetables, all topped with a fluffy blanket of mashed potatoes. Sounds idyllic, right? Well, for my siblings, it was. For me? It was a culinary nightmare, a dish that still makes my stomach churn.

The culprit? Canned green beans. Yes, those pale, limp, and frankly, flavorless cylinders of processed vegetables. My mother, bless her heart, believed in convenience, and canned green beans were the epitome of convenience in our household. The sight of them peeking through the mashed potato topping, those anemic green slivers, was enough to send shivers down my spine. I remember the texture, the slightly metallic taste, and the overall blandness that clung to every bite.

My siblings, however, devoured it. They loved this Hamburger Pie, this comforting classic that my mom made countless times. They would scrape their plates clean, while I, the picky eater, would push the offending green beans to the side and pick at the rest. It became a symbol of my childhood culinary battles – a war waged not with forks and knives, but with taste buds and stubborn resistance.

Years later, my sister, ever the adventurous cook, has attempted to upgrade this family recipe. She’s experimented with fresh green beans, different herbs, and fancier cuts of meat, attempting to create a more sophisticated (and palatable to my adult self) version of the dish. And while I appreciate her culinary explorations, nothing can quite capture the essence – the good, the bad, and the utterly unforgettable canned-green-bean-induced horror – of my mother’s original creation.

This recipe, lovingly transcribed from my mother's somewhat brittle kitchen scrapbook (a testament to years of meals, memories, and countless batches of this very pie), is as authentic as it gets. It's a nostalgic journey back to my childhood, complete with its slightly off-putting ingredient list. It’s a reminder that even the simplest dishes can be filled with complicated memories and strong emotions. So, for those who dare to venture back to my culinary past, here's the recipe, warts and all.

This isn't just a recipe; it's a story. A story of a mother's love, a child's discerning palate, and the undeniable power of canned green beans to define a childhood memory (or at least a part of it). It is a story of family, of traditions passed down, and the sometimes-rocky relationship between a cook and their most discerning critic – me. It might be a comfort dish for many, but for me, it brings me back to the days of childhood complaints and mashed potatoes that tried to hide a terrible, canned secret.

The ingredients are simple, the method is straightforward, and the result is…well, it depends on your relationship with canned green beans. I have since learned to appreciate different flavors and textures; I am an adventurer in the culinary world, now. But there's a certain strange nostalgia to this dish. A nostalgia that comes from memories of family, of the simple joys of childhood, and of course, that metallic taste of canned green beans that will forever be etched into my memory.

Perhaps you, dear reader, will discover a new-found love for Hamburger Pie; a love that escaped me in my younger days. Or maybe, like me, you'll find yourself reminiscing about childhood meals, whether they were delicious triumphs or slightly questionable culinary adventures. No matter what, I hope you enjoy this simple, yet undeniably impactful recipe.

Step-by-step

• Brown onion in hot fat; add meat and seasonings; brown.
• Add drained beans and soup; pour into greased casserole.
• Mash potatoes; add milk, egg, and seasonings.
• Spoon in mounds over meat.
• Bake in moderate oven (350°F) 30 minutes.