Until I met Jon, it had been years since I’d carved a pumpkin (maybe even since I was a teenager still living at home). Jon had much more experience than me. He raised two sons and carved pumpkins with them every year until they moved away. He couldn’t imagine a Halloween season without a Jack-O-Lantern or two to greet us at the door in the evening. He got me back on the carving wagon. This is our third year carving together.
Jon is a pro pumpkin carver. He lays out his special knives and scoop next to his victim before he begins. Then he sketches his design in removable ink on the side of his squash which will enhance his creation the most. He scoops out the guts with a few deft flicks of his wrist. His lid is never too small and his faces are always animated and perfectly frightful when lit from within.
I won’t even begin to tell you about my inadequacies as a carver. I’ll just tell you that the burn on the palm of my hand, which I got while trying to get the candle into my, once again, too small lid, still smarts.
Pumpkin carving is a blend of old world traditions and new world food. Pumpkins and other squash have been grown in the Americas since at least 5500 BCE. Native Americans not only ate the flesh and the seeds of these prolific fruit but they also dried strips of pumpkin and wove mats out of it (the fiber artist in me would love to see a sample of such a thing).
When Europeans came to the continent, they began incorporating pumpkin in their diet. The idea for pumpkin pie seems to have occurred around this time. Whether it was white settlers or the native people who thought that scooping out the seeds and filling the cavity with milk, honey and spices then settling the whole delicious mixture in the hot ashes of a fire to cook to perfection, is lost to history. I’m just glad someone thought of it.
Meanwhile back in Europe, a couple of traditions intertwined. The Celtic celebration of Samhain at the end of fall, had revelers carve turnips, beet and gourds then light them from within to attract the spirits of their deceased relatives so they could say goodbye or ask for favors.
In Ireland, there was a myth about a guy named Stingy Jack who fooled the Devil one too many times and ended up having to carry a burning lump of coal inside a carved turnip for evermore. His name changed to Jack of the Lantern and the carved vegetable became known as a Jack-o-Lantern.
When the old world met the new, it became obvious to the new immigrants that pumpkins are way easier to carve than turnips and pumpkins gained the fame we know them for today.
I have only one issue with carving pumpkins (and, no it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m not that good at it). It seems to be a waste of a perfectly good squash.
Pumpkin is delicious. It’s great in soup and stews or roasted with chicken or made into pie or ice cream or muffins or… It seems just a bit sad when your carved pumpkin starts to collapse in on itself and there’s no saving it for that pumpkin risotto you had planned.
I am somewhat mollified with the knowledge that pumpkins bred for perfect Jack-o-Lanterns don’t make the best pies. Yes, they are edible and you can chop up the bits that you carve away and put them in a stew, but if you are cooking something where the taste of the pumpkin is the center of attention you’ll want to get a pie pumpkin. These are bred for sweetness and flavor and consistency.
There are over 50 varieties of pumpkins, from those cute little minis (that seem to only serve the purpose of being cute) to the jumbo varieties that can grow to over 1000 pounds (that seem to only serve the purpose of getting the grower into the Guinness Book of World Records). There are white, blue, green, red and tan colored pumpkins. There are even some varieties with “naked” seeds without the while seed coating.
It’s really the seeds that save me from despairing over the loss of all that fine pumpkin flesh. Carving pumpkins lets you focus on the seeds. You don’t need to fuss with peeling and chopping so you have plenty of time to think up imaginative flavors for this year’s batch of toasted pumpkin seeds. And much to Jon’s dismay, eating the seeds is my favorite part of carving pumpkins.
Toasted Pumpkin Seeds
Seeds from as many pumpkins as you carved
Salt or seasoning of your choice
Olive oil (optional)
Preheat oven to 350F. Rinse the seeds well in warm water, removing any bits of flesh. Drain well and place in a single layer on a baking sheet (it might take two sheets if you’ve carved lots of pumpkins). Sprinkle with salt to taste and enough olive oil to very lightly coat the seeds. Bake for 20-30 minutes, shaking and stirring every five minutes. The seeds are done when the inside and outside are dry and the seed coating is slightly tanned.
Flavoring ideas:
Chili Powder
Garlic Salt
Cheese topping for popcorn
Cinnamon and salt
Cumin and cayenne
Italian seasoning
