And I had. For I, too, caught the story, and that story caught my imagination. I saw it all, in a warm, hazy glow of domesticity: a potluck, flooded with warmth and cheer and more food than anyone could possibly consume. In the center of this gustatory bliss--the pumpkin, stuffed with EVERYTHING GOOD.
Thus, my (annual?) Let Them Eat Squash Potluck was born, with the spectacular much-hyped pumpkin at its center. (If you'd like to hear the colorful story of how I procured this pivotal pumpkin, please do ask. It's a doozie!)
One great thing about the recipe is that it's quite customizable. My dear friend at KitchenWishes made one of her own with gouda and parmesan, and had a bunch of other great ideas for other possible pumpkins. For mine, I of course threw in token amounts of the three B's, as well as some vegetables. But not too many vegetables--let's not be crazy.
1 pumpkin (The original recipe recommended 3 pounds, but I think that mine was larger)
Salt and pepper
3 cups stale bread, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
4 cups cheese, grated and/or cut into chunks (I used a mixture of gruyere, swiss, and mozzarella, with a little parmesan)
3 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
6 strips bacon, cooked, drained and chopped (drippings reserved)
1 medium onion, diced
Pinch brown sugar
1 medium red bell pepper, chopped into 1/2 inch chunks
1 tsp ground sage
1 tsp ground oregano
About 1/3 cup heavy cream
About 1/4 cup milk
Pinch ground nutmeg
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Clean the pumpkin as you would a jack-o-lantern. Cut off a cap at the top, and scoop out seeds and pulp thoroughly. Once the pumpkin is cleaned of its inner gunk, season the inside liberally with salt and pepper. Place on a baking sheet (if you're bold and trust your pumpkin not to collapse while baking) or in a Dutch oven, sized to be a little larger than your pumpkin in diameter (if you don't trust the integrity of that sassy squash).
Sauté onions in leftover bacon grease with salt, pepper, and brown sugar. When onions are slightly tender, add red pepper and continue to sauté, about five minutes. In a large separate bowl, toss together bread, cheese, garlic, bacon, and herbs, seasoning with pepper to taste. Add onions and peppers from skillet, tossing all together. Transfer the entire mixture into the pumpkin.
Stir together cream, milk, and nutmeg, as well as some salt and pepper to taste. Pour into the pumpkin and stir mixture slightly. The ingredients should be well-moistened by the cream mixture, but not swimming (may require more or less cream), and the pumpkin should be well filled--neither too full nor too empty.
Put the pumpkin's cap in place and bake for 2 hours--checking in at about the 90-minute mark. With about 20 minutes left, remove the pumpkin cap and give the excess liquid a chance to bake away. When done, the pumpkin contents should be bubbling and the pumpkin flesh should be tender and easily pierced with the tip of a knife.
To Serve:
Carefully remove the pumpkin from the oven. This seems like an obvious suggestion, but since you are now handling a large, fragile squash full of molten delicious goo, it's good to be cautious.
The NPR article suggests cutting the pumpkin into slices, but that seems ridiculously messy to me, not to mention destructive to my potluck's beautiful centerpiece. Instead, I'd opt for keeping it intact and ladling it out. Encourage guests to scrape out the pumpkin meat as well as the stuffing--although they may not require much encouraging!
NB: The stuffed pumpkin goes delightfully with pumpkin ale or other seasonal beer, a discovery made by the incomparable Josh. Well done, Josh.
As I mentioned before, this has been requested for Thanksgiving dinner as well, so I might update with my findings on that adventure. The original story mentions stuffing the pumpkin with rice instead of bread crumbs, which is certainly an intriguing idea...
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