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from Dinner was DeliciousPumpkins Stuffed with Everything Good
Pumpkin Pie is the fucking worst.
At its very best, it’s a plate of nostalgia that enables Cool Whip, but it usually is just a sweaty, curdled abomination with too much nutmeg and flabby pie crust that tastes absolutely nothing like Pumpkin.
Pumpkin, believe it or fucking not, doesn’t taste like your Pumpkin-Spice Latte. It tastes like squash, because it is one, and it’s a damn fine one at that. It’s savory with a subtle starchy sweetness, like carrots that have been cooked forever, that turns from brightly tart to nutty and pleasantly murky the longer it roasts.
Pumpkin makes a great soup, and possibly an even greater hash with plenty of chipotle and dark greens, but it’s finest application, in our never humble estimation, is a classic French recipe that we’ve stolen from the incomparable Dorrie Greenspan, who we think is adorable and has a great haircut.
Pumpkins Stuffed with Everything Good is exactly what it sounds like. It’s all of your favorite savory things crammed into a pumpkin, and then the oven, and then your face. It makes a great main dish, served in giant slabs with crusty bread and some spicy green beans, and is an obvious choice as a starchy side, or you can mix everything up and use it as a seasonal hummus-alternative (fuck hummus) for whatever you want to get covered in gooey cheesey pumpkin guts.
This is one of those dishes that’s great for cleaning out your cabinets. Anything that tastes good together, and generally goes well with cheese, is a perfect addition to your pumpkin. Got a bunch of italian sausage? Toss it in. Leftover beets? Why the fuck not. This is a template, not an edict, so play around with it, and don’t be afraid to use whatever you like to eat— or got overloaded with by your winter CSA.
Pumpkins Stuffed with Everything Good
Inspired by Dorrie GreenspanServes: 3-4
- 1 Pie Pumpkin, or other small squash, around 3lbs, well washed
- 3 strips Bacon, thick cut, smokey stuff is best, chopped into small pieces
or
- 2 tbsp Olive Oil
- 2-3 cups Kale, Spinach, or whatever hardy greens you’ve got laying around
- ½ Red Pepper
- 1 clove Garlic
- Any other (cooked) Veggies you feel like adding (mushrooms, onion, and anything dark green is particularly nice)
- 2 tbsp fresh (or 2 tsp dry) Herbs, whatever you’ve got laying around is fine (thyme and parsley are my favorites, marjoram is really nice, too)
- The tiniest pinch of Nutmeg- or just say the word “nutmeg” while doing a dramatic hand gesture.
- 1 cup day-old Bread, cut into crouton-sized pieces
- 1 cup Gruyere, shredded
- 2 tbsp- ⅓ cup of Milk or Cream
- Salt and Pepper, to taste
Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.
Chop the top off of your Pumpkin and scoop the strings and seeds out like it’s Halloween; don’t pitch its lid. Using a clean dish cloth or paper towel, dry off the insides and lightly season with Salt and Pepper.
In a large skillet render your Bacon until it’s delicious. Remove from the pan and set aside.
Wash and chop your Greens and Red Pepper, mince the Garlic, and sautee in the Bacon fat (or Olive Oil), with any other vegetables or meat that you’re adding, just until they stop releasing tons of water.
Combine the Greens mixture with the Bacon, Herbs, Nutmeg, pieces of Bread, and Cheese. Moisten with just enough Milk or Cream to kind of hold it together in a loose blob. Season to taste, obviously.
Cram that stuffing mixture into the Pumpkin and put its lid back on. We use the word “Cram” intentionally. Really pack that shit in tight, it’s going to settle considerably as it bakes. Place into a shallow baking dish and bake until the Pumpkin is a little saggy and can be easily pierced through with a knife, about 2 hours.
I really can’t get enough of these.
from Bon Iver Erotic StoriesWe’re spending the afternoon at the library. We’ve kissed behind the fountain, read each other poems, and nibbled pumpkin seeds secretly in the fiction stacks, and now I’ve settled into a sofa with my novel. Bon Iver comes around the corner with a pile of books so tall I laugh. ‘How will you carry those on your bicycle?’ I ask.
He topples them into my lap and curls up beside me, tucking his bare feet beneath my legs. Books about tigers and other big cats, meteorites, anatomy, native grasses and shrubs, weaving, silly fiction stories, sad fiction novels, and one about care and maintenance of your marimba.
It’s hard to really, like, look at somebody and go, hey, maybe something nice will happen. I know too much, about life, to have any optimism. Because I know even if it’s nice, it’s going to lead to shit. I know if you smile at somebody, and they smile back, you’ve just decided something shitty is going to happen. You might have a nice couple of dates, but then she’ll stop calling you back and that’ll feel shitty. Or you’ll date for a long time and then she’ll have sex with one of your friends, or you will with one of her’s, and that’ll be shitty. Or you’ll get married and it won’t work out, and you’ll get divorced, and split your friends and money and that’s horrible. Or you’ll meet the perfect person, who you love infinitely, and you even argue well, and you grow together, and you have children, and then you get old together, and then she’s going to die…that’s the best case scenario.
Louis C.K. from Chris Siegle's New-Fangled Tumblr-Majig