Specialty squash varieties push the limits of the definition.
By Lindsay Sterling
Edible Coastal Maine
The shoulders of the staunch Jack O'Lanterns swell above shrinking, frostbitten vines and proudly reflect the late evening sun. Meanwhile some unusual squash in the shadows are having an identity crisis. The Luminas are shorter and wider than typical pumpkins, and their skin is the color of the moon. The Queensland Blues have milky, steel blue skin and an odd shape: they actually have a waistline. The Valencianos are the color of fresh snow. The Rouge vif D'Etempes are a steroidal orange-red. The Marina Di Chioggias are blue-green and seamlessly warty. All these unusual squash are wondering one thing: can you be a pumpkin if you're not orange? A surprisingly good question for a piece of fruit.
Rob Johnston, owner of Johnny's Seeds says, "To call something a pumpkin or squash is a cultural relic, not a botanical description. What Americans call pumpkins are the kinds that look like Halloween decorations, one size or another. But botanically, those are Cucurbita pepo, which aren't necessarily pumpkins. Zucchini and summer squash are all Cucurbita pepo." With a growing number of interesting pumpkin and winter squash hybrids and heirlooms showing up at farmer's markets, our cultural definition of pumpkin looks like it needs a little updating.
Pumpkins, like everything else it seems, just aren't as simple as they used to be. C.R. Lawn, owner of Fedco Seeds and a pumpkin breeder himself, says it's generally believed that as early as 8750 B.C. the first pumpkin species originated in Central America. Two more species appeared by 3500 B.C. Later, the Native Americans in North America were known to have roasted strips of pumpkin over fires. And then came the colonists, who supposedly invented pumpkin pie when they cut the top off what they called a melon, poured in milk, spices and sugar, and roasted the whole ensemble in the hot embers of their fires. Today, after much hybridization and the preservation of heirlooms in the 19th and 20th centuries, there are estimated to be well over 100 edible pumpkins in the world, most which could be grown in Maine.
Because the definition of pumpkin is so fuzzy, when the makers of canned Farmer's Market Organic Pumpkin revealed that the variety of pumpkin they use is actually Golden Delicious Hubbard Squash (C. maxima), I didn't call the pumpkin police (I guess that would be the F.D.A.). According to Merriam-Webster's definition, a pumpkin could be any of these squash; Cucurbita pepo, Cucurbita moschata, or Cucurbita maxima. Both other brands of canned pumpkin on the shelf, Libby's and One-Pie, use Dickinson pumpkins (C. moschata), 30-100 lb. tan pumpkins known to be good for canning.
Common sense would dictate if you want a pumpkin pie to rock the house this Thanksgiving, you don't want to select a variety for its suitability to canning; you want one that among other things tastes the best. Rob Johnston has this rule of thumb: "Yield is negativity correlated with eating quality. You can only ask so much of photosynthesis. If you partition supply of sugar and minerals over a lot more fruit, then you're diluting the flavor." Specialty varieties like Marina Di Chioggia, which only grows 2 fruits to a vine, are likely to give your taste buds a run for the money.
This fall look in your local farmer's market for these varieties: Marina Di Chioggia, Rouge vif D'Etampes (Cinderella), Baby Pam, Baby Bear, New England Pie, Queensland Blue, Jarrahdale, Long Pie Pumpkin, Long Island Cheese, Winter Luxury, Lumina, and Valenciano. If you're any where near New Gloucester, it's worth a visit to Intervale Farm where Jan and Carl Wilcox sell nearly 40 varieties of pumpkins and 40 varieties of squash. They even have a pumpkin museum.
Calvin Moisan, a home baker who's done taste tests of specialty varieties for pies, says that Winter Luxury was the clear winner. "The pie was a deep dark orange color, and was more tender and naturally sweeter. It had a richer texture, and a really nice pumpkin flavor." Amy Goldman, in The Complete Squash, agrees: "Winter Luxury Pie makes the smoothest and most velvety pumpkin pie I've ever had." Rob Johnston prefers the Baby Pam. "Its flesh is a deep orange carrot color (not pale orange). The dry matter's higher, so when cooked it's starchier (in a good way) instead of stringy and watery."
The Luminas and their cohorts still want to know: are they pumpkins or not? Sure. You could call them that. They have pumpkin DNA. And even if they look a little different on the surface, at least at this writing they're all still orange on the inside.