It’s Pumpkin Time

It’s pumpkin time. Not pumpkin-spice everything time, plain pumpkin time. The madman says so. It’s time to find the perfect pumpkin. It’s not as hard as finding the perfect Christmas tree, but it ranks close. The perfect one is not too fat, not too skinny, not too tall, not too short – sounds like Goldilocks looking for the right porridge. But that’s what the madman does.

Krell-Mountain View Farm

He found his perfect pumpkin at Krell-Mountain View Farm, just around the corner. Actually, he found lots of them, but I only let him take three – one to carve, one to mash and one for my pumpkin-beef stew. Darryl at the farm stand told the madman it was a rough year for their pumpkins because of the flooding in the Farmington Flats. Typical of Mother Nature, though, when one field suffers crop damage another field close-by does fine. And, as farmers have done for eons, they help each other out. There were plenty of pumpkins.

Or, to be more botanically correct, there were plenty of squash. Lots of them just happened to be orange. You see, all pumpkins are squash, but not all squash are pumpkins.

Trying To Clear The Confusion

Confused? Most people are. All varieties of squash hail from Mesoamerica. Archeological records indicate that squash was cultivated well before maize and beans, the other members of the famous agricultural Three Sisters (remember, corn for support, beans to nourish the soil and prickly vined squash to ward off predators). Squash worked its way throughout all native cultures from Argentina to Canada, but needed a boat to cross the ocean. The early European explorers gladly provided that transportation as they hauled back all sorts of specimens from the New World. They really needed to impress their sponsors. Squash was readily incorporated into the cuisine of various countries.

No Such Thing As A Pumpkin

If you ask a chef what’s the difference between a pumpkin and a squash, she’ll tell you that a pumpkin’s flesh is stringier. But, if you ask a botanist the same question, he’ll carry on about the different species of the Genus Cucurbita – you know, C. maxima, C. moschito, and c. pepo. And, he’ll go on and on until your head is ready to explode.

But, the best definition of a pumpkin that we found comes from the Fedco 2021 Seed and Supplies Catalog, “Botanically, there are no such things as pumpkins. But we all know one when we see one. ‘Pumpkins’ listed here are three species, Cucurbita pepo, (mini pumpkins, small pie and some Jack O’Lanterns), C. moschata (cheese), and C. maxima (Jack O’Lanterns, decorative and culinary).” The madman says that when you go to the county fair and see the giant pumpkins, they may really be a variety of Hubbard Squash. I stopped him there by asking him why we carve them.

Stingy Jack

He just looked at me and answered me with another question, “Do you know how hard it is to carve a beet?” I had to laugh – he did know the story of Stingy Jack. As a storyteller, I have run into a lot of Jack stories from Ireland and England. In Irish folklore Stingy Jack was a rather unsavory character with a fondness for tricking people. But, he was clever – so clever, in fact, that he tricked the devil twice.

As a result, the Devil couldn’t claim Jack’s soul when he died. And, St. Peter wouldn’t have him. Jack was condemned to wander the earth for all eternity. The devil did give him a glowing ember from the underworld. Clever fellow that he was, Jack hollowed out a turnip, dropped in the ember, and used this to light his way. He became known as Jack of the Lantern, eventually shortened to Jack O’Lantern.

Warding Off Evil Spirits

As Samhain approached, all good Irish folk carved beets, turnips or rutabagas to ward off Jack and all other tortured wandering spirits. The tradition came to America with early settlers who soon learned that it is much easier to carve a pumpkin since it is already hollowed out.

The madman really doesn’t believe all that warding off the evil spirits malarkey, but he does love to carve a pumpkin. The best carving pumpkins are Connecticut field pumpkins (C. pepo). The second hardest part of the pumpkin carving for the madman is deciding which is the front (picking out the pumpkin is the first). Sort of like trying to figure out what is the front side of the Christmas tree. After spending what seems like an eternity finding the front, the madman begins. He draws a face, cuts off the top and scoops out the seeds. While he is carving away, I separate the seeds for roasting.

For some reason, I always have to remind him to notch the lid so the candle will burn properly inside. You’d think that after all the years of carving, he would remember that step. Of course, on Halloween we’ll enjoy our Jack O’Lantern with a bonfire, after all it will be October 31.

Mashed Pumpkin

So, that takes care of the first pumpkin he bought. But he also got one for mashing. This is an experiment this year. In the past we have made butternut squash mashed with butter and maple syrup for Thanksgiving (a recipe from my sister Lindy), but we’ve never tried a pumpkin. The madman plans to cut his pumpkin in half, scoop out the seeds, bake it cut side down in a pan lined with parchment paper at 425˚ for about half an hour or until it’s soft. He’ll scoop out the flesh and mash it while seasoning it with things like his fresh garlic, peppercorns and salt. I will have to watch him closely; he’s been known to sneak in a Trinidad Scorpion or some other hot pepper.

Stew In A Pumpkin

The last pumpkin is mine. And this is almost another experiment, I say almost because I did make a pumpkin beef stew once, a long time ago. I will cut off the top, scoop out the seeds, season the empty pumpkin, and bake it cut side down on parchment paper at 425˚ for about 1 hour. We like beef stew, so I will make one with our own potatoes, onions, sweet potatoes, carrots and peppers. As you can guess, you can make any stew or soup you want. I will serve my stew in the baked pumpkin.

Get Out And Play

It seems like we are spending a lot of time playing around with pumpkins when we should be working in the yard raking leaves and preparing our gardens for winter. But after a year and a half of pandemic related stress we feel a lot of fun is in order. Besides, we received a question after our post on leaves. Friend and master gardener, Tom Kalal asked, “I know some pollinators lay eggs for future generations in fallen leaves. Is there a recommendation for leaf clean-up that minimizes damage to native pollinators?” Our first recommendation is to play more, the rest we’ll cover in another post.

But, now it’s time for hot chocolate.