Dear Folks,
It’s finally October, my favorite month of the year! The air is crisp, the leaves are turning crunchy, and society has finally given me permission to drop all pretense and reveal my true form: an obsessed pumpkin lover!
I don’t just like pumpkins. I am spiritually, emotionally, and physically insane about them. If you poked me right now, there is a very high probability I would bleed orange. (And that has NOTHING to do with Texas football!)
My husband knows this. He called yesterday from the grocery store. “Hey,” he said. I blurted, “Pumpkins!” And he said, “Yeah. Which ones do you want? There are the regular big orange ones, there are warty ones, there are stripy ones and there are blue ones.” To which I said, “All of them!”
He brought home two, but I’m not complaining. Mixed with the two we bought last week at the nursery, they make a nice little display on my fireplace hearth. And I can always go back for more, right?
Some people look forward to autumn for the fashion or the cooler weather. Not me. This is the one time of the year where it is socially acceptable to buy twenty-five large, heavy, dirty gourds, stack them on my front porch, and stare at them like a cat guarding a gnat.
My love for pumpkins reaches its absolute, fever-pitch height at Halloween. It is their time to shine, literally, from the inside out. I love pumpkins so much that I often write short stories featuring them.
And not only do I write about them, I also…EAT THEM!
There is a certain gleeful joy in taking a giant kitchen knife, hacking off the head of a pumpkin, and scooping out its slimy guts with your bare hands. It’s therapeutic. If you have any repressed anger from dealing with roofers or insurance companies, I highly recommend standard Halloween pumpkin mutilation. It’s cheaper than therapy and you get a festive decoration out of it.
But let’s talk about the true tragedy of the modern Halloween pumpkin. Every year, millions of these beautiful, orange spheres are carved into spooky faces, left on porches for three weeks, and then discarded like yesterday's trash. We treat them like disposable party decorations. We look at them and think, "Ah, yes, it was a nice lantern while it lasted," instead of thinking, "Wow, look at that giant, delicious pile of potential dinner with massive amounts of vitamins A, B, C and E, and fiber and vitamin K!”
We need to stop the disrespect. We need to start eating them.
Now, before you go outside and drag your rotting, candle-scorched jack-o'-lantern off the front porch and into the frying pan, here’s the thing…do not eat those.
Because you have named these, right? I mean, doesn’t everyone? You just don’t eat Jack-O’-Lanterns you’ve named! That would be wrong. So wrong.
You can eat them, theoretically, but carving pumpkins, often called field pumpkins, have been grown for size and usually not great flavor. Eating a carving pumpkin is about the same as eating a lightly flavored cardboard box that has been sitting in the rain. They are watery, stringy, and generally sad.
Chop them up and put those in the compost! (Don’t forget to say goodbye!)
Instead, you want to look for the smaller Sugar Pumpkins or Pie Pumpkins. These are small, dense, and heavy for their size. They look like the adorable, miniature versions of carving pumpkins, but on the inside, they are packed with sweet, velvety flesh that is just begging for some cinnamon and butter.
Cooking a pumpkin as a side vegetable is surprisingly easy, yet it carries an aura of culinary sophistication that will make your dinner guests think you went to culinary school in France. In reality, you’re just roasting a miniature gourd, but they don’t need to know that.
First, you must conquer the pumpkin. Grab a sharp chef’s knife and carefully slice off the stem. Then, cut the pumpkin completely in half from top to bottom. If your knife gets stuck halfway through, do not panic. This is a standard part of the pumpkin cooking ritual. Just wiggle it around, make a few grunting noises, and pray to the gods of Halloween.
Once you have two halves, grab a large spoon and scrape out the seeds and stringy bits.
Do not throw the seeds away unless you want to anger the autumn spirits. Save them, toss them in olive oil and salt, and roast them later for a snack that will make you feel like a sophisticated woodland creature. (Bonus recipe to follow!)
Or if you’re lazy, throw them out into the garden. The birds love them.
Now, you have a choice to make. You can either roast the pumpkin in halves, or you can chop it into cubes. If you are feeling lazy—there’s a theme here—nothing wrong with that!—just leave them in halves.
Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Rub the flesh of the pumpkin halves with a generous amount of olive oil. Don't be shy. Pumpkins are thirsty.
Because we are serving this as a savory side vegetable, we are going to step away from the cloves and nutmeg. I know it’s hard. Put the pumpkin pie spice down.
Add some sea salt and garlic powder. If you want to get fancy, throw some fresh sprigs of rosemary or thyme right inside there.
Place the pumpkin halves face down on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. This creates a little steam chamber underneath the skin, making the flesh incredibly tender while caramelizing the edges against the pan.
Pop it into the oven and let it roast for about 45-to-50 minutes. You’ll know it’s done when you can easily poke a fork through the skin and into the flesh without any resistance. If the pumpkin yelps, put it back into the oven. Your kitchen will also start to smell like a cozy, rustic bakery in the woods—or, something like that.
While you wait, find a spooky short story to read! Yes, I mean it! I happen to know JUST the ones. :-D
OK! Once the punkin is out of the oven and cool enough to handle without screaming, simply take a large spoon and scoop the soft, roasted flesh away from the skin. It should peel away effortlessly, like a dream.
From here, you can toss the roasted flesh with a lot of melted butter and a splash of maple syrup (I use the sugar-free kind) for a perfect balance of savory and sweet.
Or, if you want to go all savory, mash it up with some roasted garlic and a handful of parmesan or cream cheese. It’s like mashed potatoes, but better, because it’s orange! (Did I say I love orange?)
If you chose the cubing method earlier, the process is just as easy. Peel the raw pumpkin with a sturdy vegetable peeler, chop the flesh into one-inch cubes, toss them with olive oil, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika, and roast them spread out on a sheet pan at 420°F for about 25 minutes until the edges are crispy and charred.
These little orange cubes of joy are perfect for throwing into autumn salads, tossing with pasta with a butter or cream sauce, or just eating directly off the pan with your fingers while standing over the sink. No judgment here. (Wait til it cools!)
So this month, let us elevate the pumpkin from a mere holiday prop to the culinary superstar it deserves to be. Buy the small ones. Roast them with pride. Gobble them up! And if anyone asks why you're eating pumpkin for the fourth time this week, just stare at them blankly until they walk away.
Oh, and they store very (very) well. Buy a lot of them, decorate your fireplace mantel and hearth with them, put them on top of your refrigerator! Put them in the bathroom with a sweet little spicy candle (real essential oils, please, dearie!), then when they are not expecting it—grab them up and EAT THEM!!
Happy pumpkin season, my friends. And Happy Halloween!
———
Pumpkin Seed Snacks
Here is how-to save those pumpkin seeds and turning them into a crunchy snack.
The Golden Rules of Seed Prepping
Before we fire up the oven, we have to address the "guts factor.”
- The Separation: Pluck the big chunks of pumpkin pulp away from the seeds. Don't worry about getting them perfectly clean yet; a little pulp adds flavor.
- The Rinse: Dump the seeds into a colander and run cold water over them. Rub them together between your hands to wash away the remaining slime.
- The Secret Weapon (The Dry): Spread the cleaned seeds out on a clean kitchen towel or paper towels. They must be bone dry. If you roast wet seeds, they will steam instead of crisp, leaving you with sad, chewy hulls. Let them sit for at least 30 minutes. Stir them around for quicker drying.
The Basics:
Once you master this, you can flavor the seeds however you like.
- Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C).
- Toss 1 cup of dry pumpkin seeds with 1 tablespoon of olive oil (or melted butter) and 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt.
- Spread them in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. If they are piled on top of each other, they won't crisp evenly.
- Roast for 15 to 20 minutes, stirring them halfway through. Watch them closely at the end—they go from perfectly golden to burnt very quickly. You want a light golden brown color and a distinct snap, crackle, pop! sound.
Seasoning for Roasted Pumpkin Seeds
Toss the seeds in these spice blends along with the oil and salt right before they go into the oven:
- Smoky BBQ:
- 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
- 1/4 tsp garlic powder
- 1/4 tsp onion powder
- A pinch of cayenne pepper (if you like heat)
- Garlic Parmesan:
- 1/2 tsp garlic powder
- 2 tbsp finely grated parmesan cheese (add this during the last 3 minutes of roasting so it toasts but doesn't burn)
- Sweet & Spicy:
- 1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice
- 1 tbsp brown sugar or maple syrup
- A tiny pinch of cayenne pepper
Eat them whole—shell and all! They are packed with fiber and make the perfect crunchy topper for salads, soups, or just eating by the handful while watching scary movies.
Copyright ©2026 by Bobbi A. Chukran
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