Whether October or November, pumpkins are a beloved symbol of autumn. In October, they are popular as jack‑o’-lantern decorations, and massive numbers of pumpkins are grown for just this purpose. In November, they are favored for the pumpkin pies of Thanksgiving and their long tradition as an American food. This article uncovers 10 little known facts that will make you see pumpkins in a whole new light.
10 When A Pumpkin Isn’t A Pumpkin
Pumpkin plants belong to the Cucurbitaceae family, the same clan that houses melons, cucumbers, and squash. Though many picture pumpkins as a distinct group, botanically they are simply a type of squash. The label “pumpkin” isn’t a formal species name; it’s a culinary tag applied based on a fruit’s look and its typical use.
A classic pumpkin is round, sporting smooth, hard, slightly ribbed skin that ranges from deep yellow to orange. The name usually covers three or four closely related species: Cucurbita pepo, C. moschata, C. maxima, and C. argyrosperma. The latter was once called C. mixta, and some authorities list pumpkin varieties under it, while others do not—though the distinction is largely academic.
Numerous cultivars in these species look nothing like the stereotypical jack‑o’-lantern. For instance, the butternut squash and the Long Island cheese pumpkin (a squat, pastel‑orange variety) both belong to C. moschata. That species also houses the Dickinson pumpkin, the favorite “canned pumpkin” for brands like Libby’s. Although the term pumpkin evokes carving gourds, the Dickinson pumpkin resembles a butternut squash more than a lantern.
9 Squashes For Pumpkin Pie
When most people picture “pumpkin pie,” they imagine a sweet custard made from a classic carving pumpkin. In reality, canned pumpkin pie filling usually comes from the Dickinson pumpkin—a variety that looks more like a butternut squash—along with actual butternut squash itself.
Because the filling rarely uses the traditional jack‑o’-lantern type, some conspiratorial voices claim that canned pumpkin isn’t pumpkin at all. That accusation is a misunderstanding: botanically, pumpkins and squash are the same family, so the label is accurate.
The Dickinson cultivar shines for a few reasons: it offers more flavorful flesh per pound, a thinner rind, fewer seeds, and a smaller hollow cavity. By contrast, the field pumpkin grown for carving is generally ill‑suited for pie making, though certain varieties like the Triple Treat can work for both carving and baking.
Since 1938, the FDA has stated it won’t take regulatory action solely because “pumpkin” appears on labels of canned products made from golden‑fleshed sweet squash or mixes of such squash with field pumpkins, unless the labeling is proven deceptive.
Nonetheless, true pie pumpkins exist—smaller, sweeter, and denser cultivars bred specifically for eating, making a perfect pumpkin‑pie base.
8 Prehistoric Pumpkins
While pumpkins and squash thrive across many U.S. states today, humans weren’t the first to munch on them or spread their seeds. The mastodon—an extinct, woolly, mammoth‑like beast—once carried squash seeds, as evidenced by seeds discovered in fossilized dung.
Wild squashes once populated North America, flourishing as weedy plants in the disturbed terrain left by giant mammals. Their fruit contains cucurbitacin, a bitter, toxic compound that deters small herbivores and rodents from eating the seeds.
The bitterness serves as a defense: smaller mammals, with a richer set of bitter‑receptor genes, can detect it, while larger animals like elephants have fewer such receptors, making them less sensitive to the bitter taste.
Today, mastodons are extinct, yet their closest living relatives—elephants—consume and disperse several bitter squash species. In U.S. zoos, elephants are often given pumpkins to smash and enjoy, echoing the behavior of their prehistoric cousins.
7 Image Problems
Initially, pumpkins suffered an image problem, being seen as a low‑brow food for the lazy, uncivilized, and impoverished. After the Columbian Exchange, pumpkins reached Europe, and by the 16th century they arrived in England via France.
Because pumpkins grow readily like weeds and produce large fruit, they became a reliable fallback for the rural poor during hard times. European societies, however, mocked pumpkin eaters as boorish and crude, especially since pumpkins were cultivated by Native Americans—whom New England colonists deemed uncivilized.
Despite the ridicule, New England colonists leaned heavily on pumpkins when other foods were scarce, leading to a monotonous diet centered on pumpkin dishes. Over time, colonists grew defensive about their reliance on pumpkins, continuing to use them even after more desirable foods became available.
6 Odd Colors
The classic pumpkin hue is a vivid orange, but pumpkins come in a rainbow of shades—including yellow, white, blue, and even pink. White pumpkins are among the most common alternatives, with cultivars like Baby Boo and Lumina now sold at patches and grocery stores for a modest premium. Their ghostly pale skin offers a fresh canvas for carving, yet the flesh remains orange and perfectly edible.
The Sunlight pie pumpkin sports a sunny yellow color and boasts tolerance to powdery mildew. Australia’s Jarrahdale cultivar displays a bluish‑gray skin, while the French Galeux d’Eysines shows a delicate pink hue adorned with peanut‑shell‑like warts—actually sugar secretions that hint at its sweet flesh. The Porcelain Doll pumpkin also carries a pale pink shade but lacks those warts.
Even pumpkins not bred specifically for unusual colors transition through different shades as they mature. Some start yellow before turning orange, while giant pumpkins often begin yellow or white and shift to pink‑orange or bluish‑gray at full size.
When pumpkins contract viruses, they may fail to turn fully orange, leaving green speckles or spots. Though occasionally considered attractive, heavily infected fruit is usually unsuitable for market sale.
5 Animal Feed
Pumpkins have a long tradition as livestock feed. Farmers who grow pumpkins for carving often sell blemished or damaged fruit to animal owners. After Halloween, surplus or unsold jack‑o’-lanterns frequently become feed for cattle, pigs, and other farm animals.
Some growers even cultivate pumpkins specifically for feed, using carving varieties like the Connecticut Field or smaller giants such as King Mammoth Gold. The pumpkins are chopped to appropriate sizes for the target animal.
Early farmers believed pumpkin seeds would “dry up” cows—reducing milk production—and harm pigs, prompting them to strip seeds before feeding. In truth, pumpkin seeds are nutritionally rich, offering high protein and fat content.
The myth has a kernel of truth: while seeds don’t dry up cows, feeding more than 14–18 kg (30–40 lb) of pumpkin per cow each day can be excessive due to the seed’s richness. Pigs fed solely pumpkin seeds may suffer indigestion because of the high fat level.
4 Versatility
When we think of pumpkins, the fleshy fruit usually steals the spotlight, but the plant’s leaves, vines, flowers, and seeds are also edible delights. Pumpkin seeds—also known as pepitas—are a beloved snack, ready to be boiled, toasted, dried, or ground into sauces like pipian.
Pumpkin leaves pack a nutritional punch, boasting vitamin A, calcium, vitamin C, iron, and protein. They can be steamed, boiled, pan‑fried, or tossed into hearty stews, offering more food value than a can of peas.
The tender tips of the vines, or shoots, are versatile too—boiled, sautéed, or stir‑fried, they provide a meaty texture and earthy sweetness cherished across Asia, Africa, and Australia.
Pumpkin blossoms are edible raw or cooked. They can be deep‑fried, stuffed, sautéed, baked, or incorporated into soups. Interestingly, squash bees—the primary pollinators of pumpkins—sometimes nap inside the flowers, occasionally getting trapped, much to the surprise of chefs preparing the blossoms.
3 Pumpkin Seed Oil
Pumpkin seed oil is extracted from the Styrian pumpkin, cultivated in southeast Austria and neighboring regions. It’s prized as a salad dressing, and it possesses a curious visual trick: depending on the thickness of the oil film, it appears either green or red—a phenomenon called dichromatism, only explained in 2007.
Color has three traits: hue, saturation, and brightness. Hue is fixed by a material’s intrinsic properties—blood, for example, is always red regardless of dilution. Saturation and brightness, however, shift with concentration and thickness of a liquid.
Pumpkin seed oil’s unique behavior stems from its light‑absorption profile. White light passing through the oil is mostly absorbed, except for a broad green band around 520 nm and a narrow red band near 650 nm. Green wavelengths are absorbed more strongly, yet because human eyes are more sensitive to green, a thin layer lets enough green through to appear bright, making the oil look green.
When the oil layer thickens, green transmission drops dramatically while red transmission remains relatively steadier. The diminished green intensity, coupled with the eye’s reduced sensitivity at lower brightness, causes the oil to shift to a reddish hue.
2 Pumpkin Alcohol
Yeast, the microscopic workhorse of brewing, consumes sugars and spits out carbon dioxide and alcohol. Traditionally, malted barley supplies those sugars, but colonial New England often lacked quality malt, forcing brewers to turn to pumpkins for fermentable sugars.
Back then, pumpkin flesh replaced malt entirely, giving colonial pumpkin ale a distinctive “tang” unless the brew was aged for several years. Pumpkin beers persisted through the 18th century, fading in popularity by the 19th century.
The modern craft‑beer renaissance revived pumpkin ales in 1995, and today breweries like Seattle’s Elysian host entire festivals dedicated to pumpkin‑infused brews of countless styles.
Contemporary pumpkin beers typically use canned pumpkin puree for flavor, often added directly to the boil for simplicity. Many brewers also spice their ales with classic “pumpkin‑pie” spices, meaning the pumpkin itself contributes a subtle background note while the spices dominate the flavor profile.
1 The First Thanksgiving Had No (Real) Pie
Most scholars agree that the inaugural (or even second) Thanksgiving feast featured no pumpkin pie as we know it. Some argue otherwise, but the debate hinges on how one defines “pie.”
The earliest “pumpkin pie” differed drastically from today’s custard‑filled dessert. Early settlers would slice the top off a mature pumpkin—likely C. pepo—remove the seeds, then fill the cavity with milk, spices, and honey before baking the whole pumpkin in hot ashes.
The pumpkin‑pie we recognize—a sweetened pumpkin custard nestled in a pastry crust—didn’t appear in American cookbooks until American Cookery was published in 1796, shortly after the United States secured its independence.
In 1827, Sarah Josepha Hale, a leading advocate for a national Thanksgiving holiday, proclaimed pumpkin pie an “indispensable part of a good and true Yankee Thanksgiving.” By the early 1800s, pumpkin pie had become firmly linked with the holiday, even though it wasn’t part of the original colonial menu.
Jenn Dandy, a fan of biology, parasites, Pokémon, and high‑quality cartoons, shares more about pumpkins on her Tumblr blog.