‘Losing My Religion: Or, How I Baked a Custard Pudding and Lost My Belief in Mormonism’: An Excerpt
By CONNELL O’DONOVAN (first published 2004; revised 2026)
NONFICTION | PERSONAL ESSAY
Editor’s note: Years ago I came across this piece and haven’t forgotten about the “tale of two Ward dinners” since. This excerpt picks up after Connell had endured traumatic reorientation therapy in a last-ditch effort to not be gay, become a popular Gospel Doctrine Sunday School teacher in his Emigration 2nd Ward in Salt Lake City for single young adults, and eventually came out to his entire ward on Sunday, Feb. 1, 1987. That same year, while on probation Bishop's Court and feeling suicidal, he entered a ward baking contest that changed his life, as well as his standing in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Then in November 1987, for the Ward's annual Thanksgiving Dinner, a dessert competition was announced. I had planned on making something for the competition but then had forgotten about it until the very last moment. I quickly whipped together an easy custard recipe I’d seen on PBS (see bottom for recipe) that is baked inside of a hollowed-out pumpkin. After baking it, I placed it on a silver platter, tossed some autumn leaves around it and hauled the custard to the chapel, left it on the judging table, and then pretty much forgot about it.
After the main Thanksgiving meal had been served that afternoon in the Cultural Hall, the blind judging of the desserts began, and the judges (the Bishopric) started announcing the winners. Several prizes were given out in lots of categories: Most Colorful Jell-O Salad; Greatest Amounts of Chocolate and Cool Whip in a Single Dessert; Most Creative Use of Deep-Fried Ice Cream. With each award, it slowly began to dawn on me that even though the competition theoretically had been open to the whole Ward, only women had submitted dessert entries. That is, with one significant exception.
Me.
Then the judges got to the grand prize: Best Overall Dessert. Bishop Kendell stood up on the stage in the cultural hall to make the formal announcement that the award was going to … that's right, the custard baked inside the pumpkin! This took me completely by surprise. I had no idea, had all but forgotten about my dessert, thought it had been totally bypassed in the judging. Then I realized I had actually won the grand prize and needed to go up to the stage to accept the award from the bishop. As I stood up and people (especially the Bishopric) realized that a MAN had won the dessert competition - and not just any man, but the WARD FAG had won — chaos broke loose. The court's counsel to avoid any notoriety was tossed right out the window. Half the Ward was on the floor rolling with laughter. Some of the women who had been in the competition glared at me like they were fit to execute me on the spot. The bishop turned blue then red with humiliation and disbelief, shaking his head in his hands as though the cruelty of the gods had become too much for his simple soul to bear. Later, a woman named Karen drug me into another room and literally yelled at me, "You're Gay! Oh my heavens, you're GAY!" She sobbed that I was such a spiritual person, was so faithful and strong in my testimony, that she had assumed that over the past few months somehow, I was turning straight. But my victorious yet insidious Pumpkin Custard had laid waste her assumptions; had provided a sure sign of my moral depravity and my gender treachery.
The fact that I so easily, so simply, so unthinkingly transgressed firmly established gender roles was just too great a burden for the Singles Ward to bear. My radically rebellious little custard broke the camel's back and left me a pariah among my peers. The deliciousness of my custard surely flew in the face of the God-given moral and social order established by the Prophets. The men of the Ward suddenly became extremely distant, distrustful, avoiding my gaze. And the women felt betrayed because a man had so easily dominated the one realm – domesticity – in which they were encouraged by the church to excel. The Ward's rejection of me was quite solid and unwavering from then on. I was stunned by their reaction to my custard, and my soul-searching took a whole new path after that. I began to pray fervently that I would receive much-needed guidance on how to proceed, that somehow the shackles Mormonism held on me would be loosened, broken, and I could breathe freely, cook freely.
READ THE FULL STORY HERE.
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PUMPKIN CUSTARD
1 pumpkin (6 pounds) — Fill one third full with blanched pumpkin if you desire (although I don’t)
6 eggs
2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon butter, melted
1 tablespoon dark molasses
1/2 cup brown sugar
Freshly ground cinnamon, to taste
Freshly ground nutmeg, to taste
Fresh ginger root, grated and mashed, to taste
Mix together custard filling. Place in pumpkin and bake with pumpkin lid on at 350 degrees
When custard is done, it may cause the lid to slightly rise off the pumpkin. Let cool and serve.
© 2004, 2005 Connell O’Donovan
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Connell O’Donovan is an independent historian, biographer, and professional genealogist, originally from Syracuse, Utah. He is currently working on a book documenting the history of Drag in Utah from 1871-1971. Connell also organized and led the first two Pride marches in Utah in 1990 and 1991, and was a co-founder of Queer Nation Utah in 1991. He currently sits on the board of the Mildred Berryman Institute for LGBTIQ2S+ Utah History.