I didn’t plan on making hand pies today, but that little jar of pumpkin purée sitting behind the teas practically jumped out at me. Suddenly I was dusting flour across the counter like confetti and rolling dough circles with more enthusiasm than precision. These hand pies are like tiny fall surprises—sweet, spiced pumpkin inside a flaky shell that’s totally ok if it cracks a little or oozes a bit of filling. My first try leaked sugared pumpkin in all the wrong places, but I didn’t care, because the smell alone made me think of blankets and hot cider. They’re one of those recipes that feel fancy but are friendly enough to survive my butter-coated fingers and crowded countertop. I might’ve miscounted circles so ended up with one extra pie, which I may or may not have eaten warm, out of the oven, using a fork. The dough folded imperfectly, some pies looked a little smooshed—still tasted like homemade goodness. That little crack on one gave me edges perfect for sneaking crispy sugar bites, so I considered it a bonus. When they baked, the flaky edges puffed up and crinkled just right, and the sending whirl of cinnamon mixed with pastry aroma… I practically fainted (in a good, kitchen-happy way). I tried to resist opening the oven door to peak but failed, and yes, the steam almost fogged up the timer. I sprinkled some coarse sugar on top during the second half of baking… because sparkle matters, especially when you’re trying to impress pets. My cat definitely gave them the side-eye before I swatted crumbs his way. Every bite is a little miracle—warm, tender pumpkin with cinnamon, cream cheese, or sugar whispering through the crust. And here’s the thing: the messy ones, the cracked ones, the irregular shapes—they feel human. They taste like the ones I’d sneak to myself on a rainy afternoon, sipping tea and thinking, yes, this is exactly what cozy should feel like.
Detailed Ingredients with measures
- 2 pie crust discs (homemade or ready-made)
- 1 cup pumpkin purée
- ½ cup granulated sugar
- ½ teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
- ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1 tablespoon cream cheese, at room temperature
- 1 large egg (for egg wash)
- 2 tablespoons coarse sugar (for topping)
Prep Time
About 45 minutes—including rolling, filling, folding, sealing, and taste-testing that orphan pie at the edge of the countertop.
Cook Time, Total Time, Yield
Cook Time: 18–20 minutes until the crust is golden and flaky. Total Time: Roughly 1 hour, allowing for baking and inhalation of that scent. Yield: Around 8 hand pies—though half might vanish before you can say “coffee break.”
Detailed Directions and Instructions
Chill the dough and make the filling
Start with pie dough that’s had a proper chill in the fridge. Warm dough will fight you, stretch weird, and generally make a mess. While it’s resting, whisk together pumpkin puree, an egg, brown sugar, a spoonful of flour, pumpkin pie spice, vanilla, and a little pinch of salt until smooth. If you manage to keep all the ingredients in the bowl and not on the counter, you’re already ahead of me.
Roll out and cut the circles
Lightly flour the counter and roll one disc of dough until it’s thin but still sturdy enough to hold the filling. Use a round cutter or an upside-down bowl to make about 5-inch circles. Re-roll scraps for a few more—no shame in a patchwork dough. Stack the circles on a plate and chill them briefly; colder dough stays where you put it.
Prep the pans and egg wash
Preheat the oven to 400°F and line a couple baking sheets with parchment paper. Beat an egg with a splash of milk or water for your egg wash—having it ready now means you won’t be elbow-deep in dough later hunting for a brush.
Fill, fold, and seal
Spoon about 1½ tablespoons of pumpkin filling onto half of each dough circle, keeping a small border clear. Fold the dough over into a half-moon, then press the edges together to seal. Use a fork to crimp all the way around. Mine never look identical—consider it rustic charm.
Vent and chill again
Cut two or three small slits on top of each pie to let steam escape. If the dough feels too soft, slide the trays into the fridge for 15–30 minutes before baking. This helps prevent spreading and leaking.
Bake until golden
Bake the pies until the crusts are golden brown, rotating the pans halfway through for even baking. The smell will make you impatient, but let them cool on the pan for about five minutes before transferring to a wire rack so the bottoms don’t go soggy.
Glaze for the finish
Whisk together a simple icing with powdered sugar, a bit of milk, and a drizzle of maple syrup. Dip the tops of slightly warm pies or drizzle over them. The glaze will set as it cools, but if you sneak one early, no judgment.
Notes
Cold dough behaves best
Warm dough stretches and tears. If things start sticking, take a break and let it firm up in the fridge.
Less filling is more
Overfilling leads to split seams and runaway pumpkin. Aim for modest scoops.
Double-crimp for security
Go around the edges twice with a fork to keep the filling from escaping.
Rotate for even color
Switch the pans between racks halfway through baking for perfectly golden pies.
Freezer-friendly
You can freeze baked pies before glazing. Thaw, glaze, and they taste bakery-fresh.
Cook techniques
Roast the pumpkin first
The first time I made this, I tossed raw pumpkin cubes straight into the pot, thinking they’d cook down fine. They did… sort of. The flavor was mild and a little watery. Now I roast them first—just a drizzle of oil, a sprinkle of salt, and into a hot oven until the edges start to caramelize. That tiny bit of browning adds this gorgeous sweetness that makes the whole chili feel richer and more layered.
Give the aromatics their moment
I used to dump the onions, peppers, and garlic in all at once, and everything ended up steaming instead of getting that gentle golden edge. Now I start with the onions until they turn soft and fragrant, then add peppers, letting them cook down before stirring in garlic right at the end. The scent is enough to pull everyone into the kitchen.
Find your spice balance
I once went heavy-handed with the chili powder, thinking it would make the dish bold and fiery. Instead, it drowned out everything else. Now I keep a steady balance of chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, and a whisper of cinnamon. The cinnamon’s barely there, but it does something magical—like a cozy background note you can’t quite name.
Let it rest after simmering
My impatient self used to ladle it up as soon as it stopped bubbling. It was good, but after learning to let it sit for 15–20 minutes off the heat, I realized what I’d been missing. The flavors seem to marry during that short break, the beans soak up more of the broth, and the chili thickens just enough for that perfect hearty scoop.
Brighten at the very end
Once I forgot to add the finishing splash of lime juice and couldn’t figure out why it felt heavy. That little hit of acidity wakes up the spices and makes the vegetables shine. It’s like turning the lights on in a cozy kitchen—suddenly everything pops.
FAQ
Can I swap fresh pumpkin for canned?
Yes, though fresh roasted pumpkin brings more texture and a gentle sweetness. If using canned, make sure it’s pure pumpkin puree, not pie filling.
How do I make it spicier?
Add diced jalapeño with the peppers, toss in cayenne, or sprinkle in chili flakes to taste. Build heat gradually—you can always add more.
Does it freeze well?
Definitely. Let it cool fully, portion it into freezer-safe containers, and freeze for up to three months.
Which beans work best?
A mix of kidney and black beans gives great texture, but pinto, chickpeas, or cannellini are tasty swaps.
How long will it last in the fridge?
Up to five days in an airtight container, and the flavors often taste even better after a day or two.
Conclusion
You’ve just stirred together Sally’s Vegetarian Pumpkin Chili, and let me tell you, it’s like a big, warm kitchen hug in a bowl. That moment when you dump in the onions, peppers, garlic, beans, tomatoes, sweet potato, and pumpkin puree all at once—it feels a bit wild, but that’s part of the charm. I once misjudged how much broth the pot could hold and ended up with soup instead of chili—but a little extra simmering dried it right back into the cozy thickness only chili can have. When that pot finally bubbles with spices—cumin, chili powder, a wave of cinnamon—the kitchen smells like autumn tucked into every corner. I ladle it into bowls that are too hot to hold but too inviting to resist. Every spoonful is a dance of textures: soft sweet potatoes, beans with that humm-y bite, juicy tomato chunks, all wrapped in that smooth, earthy pumpkin. And cinnamon, that sneaky winter whisper, sweetens it all in the best way. I dropped a spoonful earlier on the floor and watched my dog eyeball it like a Michelin-starred treat—no shame, he’s now a chili fan too. The beauty of this chili is its flexibility. Didn’t have kidney beans? Swap in chickpeas. Only one bell pepper? Totals fine. Forget the jalapeño? You’ll lose a little kick, but keep the cumin and onion powder to fill in the void. I pulled out cilantro and avocado for garnish one night, and suddenly it felt like dinner meant for a Sunday afternoon brunch rather than a Tuesday hurry-up. Leftovers taste even better. After the flavors mingle overnight, each bite hits deeper, richer, with that snug, comforting warmth that just keeps evolving. I caught myself dreaming about the next bowl before I even washed the pot. And if there’s crusty bread or a corn muffin nearby? Game over. By the time you’re sneaking that second helping—let’s call it “taste testing”—you’ll know this chili belongs in your rotating menu. The pot may still have a few splatters on the stovetop, maybe your spoon sits in a little chili puddle in the sink, but that? That’s proof. Proof that you made something nourishing, real, and deeply satisfying. And isn’t that what being in the kitchen is all about?
More recipes suggestions and combination
Pumpkin Chili–Stuffed Sweet Potatoes
Roast some sweet potato halves until they’re soft and heavenly, then scoop this chili right into them. The first time I tried it, one half toppled off the plate mid-scoop and landed with chili splatter and sweet potato tumble—messy, but I just scooped it up with my spoon and called it “rustic plating.” Flavorwise? Absolutely nailed it.
Vegetarian Pumpkin Chili Pie
Lay the chili in a shallow casserole, top with a mashed potato layer (or cornbread mix!) and bake until golden. Mine bubbled up the sides and leaked onto the baking sheet, sending olive oil and chili onto the oven floor—but that crusty, browned edge stuff? Totally divine.
Pumpkin Chili Nachos
Spread tortilla chips across a baking tray, spoon chili on top, add cheese, then bake until melty. I’ll admit, one chip went way too crispy (burnt, basically), but that chip was extra crispy comfort, and the rest? Gooey chili-covered chip bliss in every bite. Mix it up: plain chili in a bowl when you need cozy, stuffed sweet potatoes for something novel, topped bakes for dinner-table charm, and chili nachos for snacky indulgence. Expect tile splatters, chili splooshes, maybe a stray bean on the fridge—but that, my friend, is the beautiful chaos of real cooking.
