023: Pumpkin Spice Up Your Life
Justice for Hing Spice, the forgotten sixth member
(JS) Hello sweet readers, old and new! What a whirlwind few days we’ve had at ol’ Digestivo. After an idyllic uptown picnic Saturday to celebrate my co-author’s birthday, we woke up Sunday to a lovely little shoutout on Goop as one of their favorite new subscriptions. It’s no secret that Salonee and I are both obsessed with and respectfully critical of the premiere celebrity-orchestrated aspirational lifestyle website and its growing media empire (though as GP insists during my favorite episode of her white woman ASMR podcast in conversation with Julia Roberts, “it’s not an empire”; Edward Said found shaking). What an honor to be somewhat prominently featured in the publication of record, and alongside such wonderful company? The power of Gwyneth truly compels you! We’re so happy to have you here, and we hope you’ll check out the archive to get a sense of what’s cookin’.
We as a society need to talk about provolone
Now back to me and my problems. I must confess that I’ve had some trouble sleeping the past few days and am not sure what to do. Perhaps it's the impending collapse of the nation as we know it, or the near certain second wave of COVID just around the corner. Maybe it’s just regular old SAD. Whatever the cause, I find myself awake at odd hours, muscles tensed and unable to rest my spirits, expecting some other proverbial shoe to drop. I have no shortage of sleep television and gay banter podcasts to keep me loling if not actually lulling me to sleep, and self-medicating with edibles has only further compounded my struggle with fits of cotton mouth and morning grogginess. We often talk about food’s regulatory functions when it comes to gut health and ~our bowels~ (shoutout to my GI and friend of the newsletter, Dr. Morgenstern), but I’m wondering if you all have any diet related tips to help me calm the fuck down. Can you point me in the direction of a tisane or low ABV nightcap to settle my nerves? Perhaps a tincture or tonic to knock me out? We’ve got a wild couple weeks ahead of us and I’ll take all the help I can get. Sound off in the comments or shoot us an email. We’re all about community engagement.
Here’s what I’ve been eating lately:
Sohui Kim’s doenjang jjigae, a quick Korean weeknight stew that doesn’t skimp on flavor (friend of the newsletter April adds clams for a briny bite; I’d love to try Hooni Kim’s version with brisket)
Baba rustico, a savory Neapolitan take on brioche, stuffed with chopped ham or pancetta, provolone, and parmesan, and traditionally baked in a tube pan. A wonderful contribution to the birthday picnic IMHO, but even better sliced and warmed the following day, so the little flecks of salumi crisp up and the provolone starts to melt (SB: I have to chime in here to agree; Provolone! I’ve overlooked you for too long). Also, that recipe is in Italian; I am partly flexing for noted polyglot GP, but I assure you the Google translate Chrome extension works wonders.
Wedges of radicchio, quickly blasted at high heat, then tucked into the juices of a resting roast chicken. Recipe for the latter coming soonish.
(SB) As Jake mentioned above, it’s exciting to have so many new readers on board this week, and we’re grateful as ever for our deep bench of friends-of-the-letter. As you may have gathered by now, I just celebrated a birthday, and as has been the case for many years, the experience left me profoundly grateful for the sweet, talented, and thoughtful people in my life. Thank you for (figuratively, from a social distance) holding me with so much love. It was also a reminder that time marches on: on this coast, it’s on the edge of too chilly to linger on damp grass, and even with the promise of outdoor heaters forever, it seems like we may be gearing up for a winter of ever-increased solitude. I’m not looking forward to it.
Slam it to the left if you’re havin’ frittata
In the midst of my long-weekend of sumptuous dinners and ever more impressive desserts, I was reminded that my body has softened and expanded; my system has become prone to lingering, sad-sack hangovers, and my gut has become increasingly sensitive to stress. In yoga, something that Jake and I did a lot before this pandemic (JS: notice us Gwyneth, notice us!!!), we often talk about being curious about changes in your body, without judgement. This is a beautiful sentiment that I find at odds with the practice of many yogis, who submit to unchecked orthorexic belief that fat is evidence of imbalance and excess. As I discovered just how few of my pants fit me this week, I found myself rather incurious and extremely judgmental. It was judgement informed by the fact that, especially for cis women, thinness translates to material power: entire careers have been built on having abs while also enjoying desert. It is almost impossible to find cute professional wear if you have large breasts. These things work in tandem to stalk some of us, threatening to compound the effects of our other identities in professional, medical, and sometimes social settings. There’s no shame in superior core strength, but I wanted to acknowledge the shadowy beast that lingers in my mind: fuck that beast! I want to exorcise it, like the spooky monster it is. I need to buy some pants that fit me now, and still feel desirable and competent while walking through the world. In case you find yourself chewing on these thoughts too, I enjoyed Alicia Kennedy’s fantastic essay in her newsletter “On Hunger” and my friend Sonalee continues to blow my mind over at The Fat Sex Therapist.
Here’s what else I’ve been chewing on this week:
A feast of birthday picnic delights from various friends of the newsletter: Lexi’s pear-and-apple loaf, which I am enjoying as I write this; Eva’s excellent rendition of Smitten Kitchen’s applesauce cake, which I tore into when my 4 p.m. Zoom fatigue loomed yesterday; Sophie’s Better Call Saul inspired pimento cheese, which I have been sneaking while “writing my dissertation” all day.
An incredibly successful takeout order of habichuelas, fish, chicken and rice soup, garlic shrimp, the best maduros we’ve had in some time, and a transcendent tres leches from El Floridita.
This saffron scented, squash forward frittata. The aioli is a must, I used Daniella’s from last week.
IT TAKES TWO: Pickles in a Pumpkin
(JS & SB) This is for all those times you’ve tasted something and found yourself wondering: was it the recipe or was it me? In this feature, we’ll both cook something new and share our results, offering #raw and #unfiltered feedback on what we loved and what we didn’t. Today: an Instagram-inspired pickle journey harking back to mother Russia.
(JS) I was casually scrolling a few weeks back when this post from chef Cortney Burns, a bona fide fermentation aficionado, stopped me dead in my tracks. The photo was, in fact, a regram from Darra Goldstein, prolific food scholar, restaurant consultant, endowed professor of Russian at Williams College, and (perhaps most impressive) the 1984-1985 US spokesperson for Stoli. In her caption, Goldstein refers to “an old Russian recipe for making pickles, from the great 19th century cookbook by Elena Molokhovets,” which instructs you to brine cucumbers in pumpkin ‘til half sour, ideally in alignment with the moon cycle for reasons which are still unclear to me.
Practical Magic
Ever the inquisitive student, I put my little peabrain to use and tracked down a PDF of Classic Russian Cooking (i.e. the great 19th century cookbook), scouring the index until I came across recipe 2598, “salted cucumbers in a pumpkin.” The directions were at once both straightforward and unfamiliar: carve out a pumpkin leaving the walls “at least 1 vershok thick”; fill with cucumbers, fragrant herbs, and a cool pound and a half of salt. You’re then supposed to pour over a cold brine, using an additional pound and a half of salt per every pail of water (what are liquid measurements, really?); for every two pails of salt brine, add “1 pail of a decoction of oak bark.” Alluring, but not especially accessible. I abandoned the great 19th century tome, and googled half sour pickle recipes, ultimately settling on this one.
I carved and cleaned my pumpkin and filled it with kirbies, plus a few crushed cloves of garlic, coriander, caraway, some dried chiles and a couple sprigs of dill. I prepared a simple saltwater brine (¼ c kosher salt to 1 quart water) and poured it over to fill the gourd, then sealed her back up and set it in the fridge. Four days later, the cucumbers emerged delightfully half sour, the perfect complement to a lox-and-kippered-salmon-heavy birthday picnic or a Tuesday night burger. As the name suggests, these cuties will continue to sour with time, so precisely when to pull them is mostly based on your tastes.
Do I think the pumpkin added anything to their flavor? Honestly, not really! Was it a fun seasonal touch? You tell me! At any rate, I halved and roasted the leftover brined pumpkin for two recipes: a savory squash bread pudding from Alexandra Stafford (just okay), and a peanut pumpkin soup from Yewande Komolafe (better!).
(SB) I’ve been reading Olga Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead for the past couple of weeks, and it turned out to be a great primer for embarking on pickling little cucumbers in a giant pumpkin. Very Eastern European, and not in the way that Al*s*n R*man means ;) Anyway, I got off to a slower start than Jake in part because while the idea of a little pumpkin carriage fermenting the little cucumber Cinderellas within my fridge was irresistibly twee, I was unable to clear enough room in said fridge until Sunday afternoon (three days after the new moon rose in Libra on October 16th ~3 p.m. EST, if you’re going full Molokhovets.)
Hocus Pocus
Adopting the same halfway to Russian grandmother technique as Jake (JS: mi nushka, do you have comment?), I simply followed the “Baked at Midnite” instructions for half sour pickles and placed them into the pumpkin. Unable to find any firm kirbies, I instead halved some mini-cucumbers (like a Persian hybrid?) from H-Mart and placed them into my pumpkin. I followed the recipe “pretty exactly” (🙃) but did in fact use sea salt instead of kosher salt. The results, when I sampled them a few minutes ago (on just day 3 of ferment!) were resplendent with garlic and already on the edge of too salty. I’m leaning towards draining and rinsing them tonight, to enjoy as a lightly pickled, still crunchy snack in the days to come. Open to suggestions on what to do with the carriage.
BIRYANI REDUX (Squad Gourds)
(SB) Flush with the thrill of our Goop shoutout and mildly hungover from several hours of drinking wine in the park, I rolled up my sleeves to slice open, de-seed, and stuff not one but two gourds for this fine newsletter on Sunday. The experience reminded me that I have carved a pumpkin exactly twice in my life because I just... don’t think it’s worth all that (before you’re too horror struck, I did, FWIW, spend some prime pumpkin carving years in India).
That said, between trying to eat less meat and having so little to mark the passage of time but seasonal kitsch, I found myself drawn to this 2018 Meera Sodha Guardian throwback recipe for a vegan pumpkin biryani — a combination of richly spiced wild and basmati rice nestled into a gourd and flavored liberally with dark-caramelized onions. It helped that I love Meera Sodha, who I trust with this kind of fusion-y thing.
Teen witch but make her 28
Meera’s instructions are, classically, easy to follow and simple, and I largely stuck to them. The recipe calls for a “delicata pumpkin”, which based on the accompanying photo I believe roughly translates to “kabocha squash” stateside. In any case, that was the only squash I found with skin delicate (i.e. delicata) enough to eat and a cavity large enough to stuff. After really struggling to cut and clean it with my ever duller (and yet still dangerous!) knife, I rubbed the insides with some salt — one could even use the pre-salted pickle carriage (see above) if you were on a similar manic pumpkin stuffing schedule! I found myself fresh out of fennel seeds, so I fried my thinly sliced onion with a tablespoon of biryani spice mix from Kalustiyans. The smell of onions caramelizing in this spiced oil was almost definitely worth the trouble of scooping the squash. Once the mixture was deeply browned, I added in ginger, garlic, a few tablespoons of tomato paste, and the rices — Meera didn’t specify a ratio, so I went with half and half. Sadly, my carving yielded no extra pumpkin, so I added some veggie broth and let the mixture cook down for Meera’s proscribed “exactly 17 minutes.” I cut the heat, stirred in a handful of walnuts, and placed the whole mixture into the squash. After placing my kabocha friend’s little stem hat back on, I wrapped the whole thing tightly in foil and slid it into my oven, preheated at 350° F.
My squash took closer to an hour and forty-five minutes to feel tender enough to remove from the oven, and was extremely fun to plate and un-cork to reveal the biryani within. She was delicious, if a little crunchy. I will almost certainly make this again, when I have a bigger crowd to feed, with a few changes, including cooking the rice for a little longer on the stove (perhaps 18, maybe 19 minutes!). Instead of the recommended chutney, I might also throw a few cranberries directly into the rice and sub chopped almonds for walnuts, which were texturally and visually a little confusing. I served this with some roasted eggplant, which I suspect might also be better in the biryani itself.
My plans are to chop up the leftovers and bake them for a little longer with some coconut milk.
TMYK: Pepitas Aplenty
(JS) One could make a strong argument that pumpkin seeds are the unsung hero of the bulk section/bird food. A truly versatile ingredient, they’re excellent toasted to bring out their inner popcorn notes, ground into a velvety pipian, or spiced and sprinkled over soups and salads. To think one would dispose of these delicious little gems while breaking down a pumpkin is simply unjust. We’re talking free pepitas with purchase, people! Well, sort of…
Although we tend to think of pepitas as simply hulled pumpkin seeds, your typical thin-skinned green pepitas actually grow shell-free inside so-called oilseed or Styrian pumpkins (an aside: the pumpkin seed oil, oder Kürbiskernöl ice cream I enjoyed in Vienna in 2015 is something I think about a lot; let’s talk, NY Mag). You could spend a hefty chunk your day gingerly picking away at the fibrous hulls of your pumpkin seeds to maybe extract a small number of less than stellar pepitas — I don’t know your life — or, you could save those seeds for toasting and — just trust me on this — pick up an extra bag of pepitas proper (SB: I am here to report that these are the best roasted pepitas I’ve ever had. I found them in Erewhon when I was staying with my parents and think about them often. Nuts.com is also obviously an option).
Were nuts always this expensive or were hippies flush with cash?
These babies shine in granola, offering both flavor and tasteful pop of color. My favorite granola is slightly adapted from our seemingly still unproblematic white woman fave, Melissa Clark (SB: Good work, Melissa!!! Holding it down). Her recipe is pistachio forward — an indulgent (and often expensive) choice which sounds great in theory, though their flair fades into the background against a heady maple and olive oil binder. I stick with her 1 cup of pepitas and divide up the remaining 1.5 cups of nuts among whatever I have on hand. Usually that means about a half cup each of pistachios, almonds, and walnuts, but feel free to experiment or swap for what you like. Could you make this with the seeds of your pickle pumpkin? I suppose you could boil them and give it a shot, but I haven’t tested it myself and frankly just imagining that handiwork gives me agita. Whatever you choose, stick with the prescribed oats to nuts/seeds ratio and you should be golden.
My other adjustment is the sweetener — the original recipe adds an entirely unnecessary ½ cup brown sugar on top of a healthy pour of maple syrup. I’d nix the brown sugar entirely and lower the syrup from ¾ to ⅔ cup. The maple olive oil combo should still be enough to coat the dry ingredients and provide a toasty crunch — the crispiest bits should taste caramelized but not candied.
Let’s talk spices: MC uses a dependable combination of cinnamon and cardamom in equal amounts, but you could play around here. Perhaps you’re a pumpkin spice type — it’s not my ministry but you do you. I like to throw in a pinch of allspice and some cracked black or Aleppo pepper. The basic takeaway: Eat! What! You! Like!
Toss everything in a large mixing bowl with a couple hefty pinches of salt, spread on a parchment lined baking sheet, and bake at 300°F for 30 to 40 minutes, watching closely and stirring every 10 minutes. Allow to cool on the baking sheet if you prefer larger clusters. This is a fantastic breakfast granola, served alongside fruit and yogurt or fresh ricotta as Melissa suggests, but it doubles as an excellent autumnal ice cream topping. Throw a handful on a scoop of (ideally Häagen-Dazs) vanilla with a drizzle of olive oil and a pinch of flaky salt (perhaps some vanilla salt). Breakfast for dessert is the new breakfast for dinner.
PERMANENT ROTATION: Mrs. Larkin’s pumpkin Christmas bread, a two-bowl quickbread that just so happens to be vegan and need not be served on Christmas (trust us heathens). I (JS) quite like to swap the spices for a heaping teaspoon of garam masala (preferably a blend without cumin), and have also had success making this with roasted or steamed and pureed butternut, kabocha, or acorn squash. I imagine you could even swap some or all of the vegetable oil for olive oil. Suffice it to say, she’s adaptable!
WISH LIST
(JS) I’ve been eyeing this reversible George Greaves Mythos throw over at Porter James for a couple months now and am trying to convince myself that perhaps this minor bedding upgrade is all I need to put my sleep problems to rest. Printed Goods has some related styles, if you’re into the vibe but fancy a different color.
(SB) All earlier knocks to core strength aside, I’ve been warding off lower back pain and #gettingshredded with some decolonized, affirming, body posi pilates with my queen Devika. I often can’t make it to mid-afternoon classes, but I’ve been eyeing her new video rental library here.
(JS & SB) Ever the fangirls, we spied these Fratelli Lombardi caper berries on Alicia Kennedy’s twitter and are truly smitten with the label. Are these the Diptyque of pickled goods?
Get the featured recipe from this issue here
Last but not least: we’re finally on instagram! Give us a follow for more… let’s call them “lo-fi” food photos and fun outtakes that don’t make it into our weekly edit!