It kills me to throw away perfectly good food. KILLS ME. I acquired this trait from my father, though not as fervently as a certain sister of mine who has pulled half-rotten peaches out of the trash, cut off the bad parts, and used the rest. (And by used, I mean "eaten.") I, too, have been known to use rotting very ripe fruit in recipes or freeze them until I have time to deal with them. Indeed, were you to look in my freezer right now, you'd find a mad melange of frozen fruits, breads, and mysterious blended items.
In my opinion overly ripe fruits were created by God as the basis of jam and quick breads. Mushy pears and wrinkled ginger are transfigured into exotic Ginger-pear jam! Moldy zucchinis and limp carrots become muffins and breads! The wonder of giving spent, yucky things a second glorious life is addictive. You can see why God is so caught up in the business of redemption, rebirth, and reconciliation. It's glorious! (Yes, I did just compare your salvation to cooking, you clever little limp zucchini, you!)
If the idea of this food salvation makes you squeamish, consider this your warning to never accept any homemade jam or quick bread offered to you. These are the hiding places of every thrifty cook.
Last year I dabbled in Jack-O-Lantern creative reuse, and this year I have graduated to complete fanatic. Late last night, I heard the Jack-O-Lanterns calling to me. They whispered, "We are good for more than just seeds and spooky faces! Cook us! Use us!" So I chopped them in half, tossed them in the oven and roasted them up, resulting in a million gallons of pumpkin puree. I have plans for soup and pie, but tonight I began with muffins.
The results so far are delicious, with the muffins earning the effusive "Your best ever!" compliment from Mr. Man. Of course, he says this frequently, so he's not to be trusted. But I liked them, too, and I am slightly more judgmental of my own cooking.
So, if your Jack-O-Lanterns are still outside and have not yet begun to turn to mush, I've listed some recipes for you. But before you begin Operation Pumpkin Redemption, I have three bits of advice.
A) Don't fall for that crap about special breeds of "cooking pumpkins." Any pumpkins will work. Pumpkin pie and breads are so full of spices it doesn't really matter. Use your memory of canned pumpkin as a guide. If your pureed pumpkin is more watery, omit some of the fluid in the recipes. Or strain the pumpkin in mesh overnight. If your pumpkin puree is thicker than the canned stuff (and this is unlikely in my experience) then add more fluid.
B) If the pumpkin has already turned to mush on your front porch, it is, sadly, beyond redemption. For future reference, if you roast, freeze, or shred the pumpkin within 48 hours of carving it, you are usually in good shape. Cooked or shredded pumpkin can be frozen and used at a future date, like, say, Thanksgiving.
C) The easiest was to prep a Jack-o-Lantern for recipes? Wash it, cut in half, and put it on a large, rimmed cookie sheet, insides facing down. Pour a little water in the cookie sheet to cover the bottom of the pan. Bake at 375˚F until the pumpkin is easily pierced with a fork, or about 1 hour. Once it cools, scoop it out of the skin and into a food processor and puree. Freeze or can the puree and use as needed. If all of this sounds like more work that you care for, try the pumpkin bread or soup recipes below, for which less of these steps are needed.
Recipes:
How to cook & puree your pumpkin without an oven
Amazing Pumpkin Muffins (This recipe is very similar to the one I used from The Joy of Cooking)
Pumpkin Bread, if you don't want to cook the pumpkin first.
Pumpkin Soup, if you don't want to grind the pumpkin after cooking.
Pumpkin French Toast! Skillet-Style or Baked
And finally, so Mr. Man will never have to share them ever again, here is the Slighty-More-Addictive-Than-Crack Pumpkin Seed recipe that everyone asks me for. (Thanks again, Martha.)
Alright everyone! Go save those pumpkins!
