Chef Mike explains the secret of making a pumpkin truly edible
Think for a minute and imagine what pumpkin tastes like. Not pumpkin pie, pumpkin spice lattes, or pumpkin cheesecake vodka—just pure, unadulterated pumpkin. Unless you’re a foraging deer or work on a pumpkin farm, odds are you’ve never tasted pumpkin that hasn’t been mixed with that parasitic blend of cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, and ginger that has nearly stolen the identity of an entire plant species.
I’m not going to rant about the fall-scented shock and awe campaign that pumpkin spice unleashes on the vulnerable citizens of this great land every year. To be honest, I like pumpkin spice. It’s a crucial part of my favorite holiday pie and has had a place on the American dinner table since at least 1796 when “American Cookery” (considered the nation’s first cookbook) included a recipe for “pompkin pudding,” a pie made with stewed pumpkin and spiced with ginger and nutmeg.
But if you’ve ever tried to eat one of those orange, Halloween pumpkins sans-spice, you quickly realized there isn’t enough cinnamon and nutmeg in the world to make those stringy, watery balls of inedible sadness taste like human food. They are fit for chunkin’, carvin’, and leaving on the porch until they decompose into a shriveled monument of holiday procrastination—they are not for eatin’.
The flavor we most readily associate with raw pumpkin is the burnt-orange mush we harvest from cans of “100% pure pumpkin” for holiday pies or cheesecakes. But thanks to the “big pumpkin” lobby in Washington, at least 85 percent of what’s labeled as canned pumpkin in the US of A is actually Dickinson squash, which tastes much closer to a butternut squash than those big orange gak-o’lanterns.
None of this really matters if you are content with limiting yourself to pumpkin spice flavored products made from a can of squash that’s lying to your face and telling you it’s pumpkin. But if you want the natural and delicious flavor of “pumpkin” that you’ve come to know and love, but without the cans and without the lies, then you want a fresh kabocha squash.
Kabocha squash are shaped like a slightly flattened pumpkin with pale green mottled skin and intensely orange flesh. They are very sweet straight off the vine and have an exceptionally delicious flavor and smooth texture that Americans typically associate with “pumpkin.”
Imagine a cross between the best pumpkin and the best sweet potato you’ve ever eaten—that’s kabocha squash. Sometimes called a “Japanese pumpkin,” they are used widely all over Asia where they are fried into tempuras, stewed, used in curries, and of course in desserts -which brings me back to pumpkin spice.
Rather than show up to holiday gatherings with the same old pumpkin pie, unshackle yourself from the cans, the lies, and the growing banality of pumpkin spice with this custard filled kabocha pumpkin that tastes like fall and looks like a masterpiece.
Although the end result looks complicated, it’s actually very simple to make. Scoop the guts out of a kabocha squash, fill it with custard filling, steam, serve, and accept compliments. Trust me—you’ll never miss the pumpkin spice.
Ingredients
- 1 medium kabocha squash (2 - 2.5 lbs)
- 5 large eggs
- 14 oz coconut cream
- 12 oz coconut sugar
- 5 pandan leaves, torn (find pandan leaves at the Asian market)
- pinch of salt
Directions
Clean outside of the pumpkin well because you eat the skin too! Carefully cut a hole in the top like you’re making a jack-o’lantern. Use a sturdy spoon to scrape out all of the seeds and fibrous strands from the inside of the pumpkin until it’s completely clean.
Add about 1 ½ inches of water to a steamer and bring to a boil while you make the custard.
Place the eggs, sugar, coconut milk, and pandan leaves into a medium-size bowl. Massage and mix the custard mixture by hand for 8 minutes to release the pandan flavors and thoroughly mix the ingredients. Strain the mixture through cheesecloth and pour the custard into the pumpkin. Leave about 2/3” space from the top so the custard can expand and not crack the pumpkin.
Steam the pumpkin for about 45 minutes to 1 hour. Don’t put the pumpkin top back on – steam it separately. You can tell that the custard is done when you gently shake it and only the center 1” or so moves.
Turn off the steamer, remove the lid and let the pumpkin custard sit until cool down for 1 hour, then move to the fridge for 4 hours or overnight.
Cut into wedges and serve.
Mike McJunkin is a native Chattanoogan currently living abroad who has trained chefs, owned and operated restaurants. Join him on Facebook at facebook.com/SushiAndBiscuits