Photo by Charlotte Melrose

It's pumpkin time! These next few weeks, pumpkins will be everywhere you look. And not just on doorsteps and at hay-strew corner pumpkin patches; there are pumpkin spice lattes at every Peet's, divine pumpkin ice cream at Mitchell's Ice Cream in the Mission, pumpkin bread and pumpkin cupcakes in every bakery.

Maybe it comes from having a birthday in October, but I'm a sucker for anything pumpkin-y. Which means I'm doing a lot of pumpkin-themed cooking this time of year--pumpkin bread, pumpkin cookies, curried pumpkin-and-apple soup, and more.

My secret? I don't actually use pumpkin, not even those cute little made-for-baking sugar pies or baby-bear pumpkins. Instead, I like to range through the goofy and gorgeous world of winter squash. Every squash-selling farmstand has dozens on offer right now, and I'd bake with just about any of them. (For me, squash season is also heralded by the arrival of many orphaned squash on my doorstep, dropped off by friends with CSA boxes and a guilty glut of butternuts and delicatas.)

Donna Noeller and David. Photo by Charlotte Melrose

Since I'm up in Marin this weekend, I'm getting my squash from organic Noeller Farms, who sell at the tiny but fun Marinwood Community Farmers' Market.

Marinwood market sign. Photo by Charlotte Melrose

They sell lots of big pumpkins--mostly for carving and roasting the seeds, since pumpkins raised for size can be pretty fibrous, although tasty if you puree them or put them through a Vitamix. But my favorite is the dense and chestnutty kabocha (or kabota), a Japanese variety that's extra-sweet and good for baking.

Kabocha squash (between the chestnuts and the pomegranates) commonly called Japanese pumpkin

Yes, the easy way out is to open up a can of Libby's. There's nothing wrong with plain old canned pumpkin. But this time of year, the fresh squashes are so cute, and I'd rather put my money directly into the pockets of the hard-working farmers who are willing to grow the quirky varieties, like the bright-orange sunshine kabocha, that I love.

They smell sweet and autumnal as they bake, and your backyard chickens will treat the stringy innards and seeds like Halloween candy.

To prepare, just slice in half, scrape out the fibrous string and seeds, and bake face down in a 350°F oven for 30-45 minutes, until squash is very tender. Turn face up and let cool. Scrape flesh into a colander and let drain for a few hours. Mash into a puree; you can also crank the squash through a food mill for extra smoothness.

Everyone seems to have a favorite recipe for pumpkin quick bread. This yeasted version is a little more unusual. It makes a great base for turkey sandwiches slathered with mayonnaise and cranberry sauce; it's also wonderful for breakfast toasted and spread with apple butter.

Yeasted Pumpkin Bread
You can go sweet or savory with this bread. Reduce or remove the brown sugar altogether and leave out the spices for a more savory bread; add sweet autumn-y spices like cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves to make it more of a breakfast or teatime treat. Cinnamon can be a little overwhelming, so try experimenting with just a couple, like nutmeg and cloves. Pregrated nutmeg quickly loses its punch, so try grating a fresh whole nutmeg using the fine holes of a box grater or microplane. The flavor difference is quite amazing.

Makes: 2 loaves or 2 dozen rolls

Ingredients:
1/4 cup warm water
1 package (2 1/4 tsps) active dry yeast
2 cups roasted, mashed pumpkin or other winter squash
2 tablespoons pumpkin-seed, walnut, or other vegetable oil
1/2 cup warm milk
2 large eggs, beaten
1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
1 tablespoon salt
1 1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice, or a mixture of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and/or cloves, optional
1/2 cup cornmeal
3 cups whole-wheat flour
3-4 cups unbleached white flour
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1 cup hulled pumpkin seeds
Egg glaze: 1 egg yolk beaten with 2 tbsp water

Preparation
1. In a large bowl, sprinkle yeast over water. Let stand for a few minutes, then whisk to dissolve.

2. Mix pumpkin, oil, milk, eggs, brown sugar, salt, spices if using, cornmeal, and whole-wheat flour into yeast mixture. Beat with a wooden spoon to make a thick batter.

3. One cup at a time, add white flour, stopping when you have a soft but manageable dough. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface.

4. Wash, dry, and lightly oil the bowl you were just using. Now, knead the dough with gusto for 10-12 minutes. Sprinkle over small amounts of remaining flour as needed; dough will tend to be sticky. Use patience and a dough scraper, and resist the temptation to dump in a whole bunch of flour to make it behave one and for all.

5. When dough has become smooth and elastic, return the dough to the oiled bowl. Swish around and turn over to make sure the whole ball of dough is lightly coated with oil. Cover bowl with a clean dishtowel and let rise in a warmish place until doubled in bulk, about 2 hours.

6. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Pat into a large, flat rectangle. Sprinkle with dried cranberries and 3/4 cup pumpkin seeds. Roll up dough, rolling and kneading gently to distribute cranberries and seeds throughout dough.

7. Divide dough in half, and shape each half into a round or rectangular loaf. You can also shape dough into small round rolls.

8. Place loaves or rolls on a parchment-lined or lightly greased baking sheet. Let rise until nearly double in size, about 1 hour.

9. Preheat oven to 375°F. Brush loaves or rolls with egg glaze. Sprinkle with pumpkin seeds. Bake for 20-25 minutes for rolls, 30-35 minutes for loaves. Remove from oven and let cool on a rack.

This is a family of winter squash, including jack be little pumpkins, delicata and sweet dumplings, carnival, kuri, baby bear pumpkins, butternut, spaghetti squash and a cinderella pumpkin.
Photo by Julia Wiley of Mariquita Farm

Just in case you're wondering: no, you can't recycle last night's only-slightly-scorched jack o' lantern into this morning's pumpkin muffins. Sorry, greenies, into the compost bin it goes.

Why? Well, for starters, it wouldn't taste very good. Pumpkins bred to be big, beautiful, and able to sit on the porch without rotting for weeks on end are not going to be yummy, too. There are only so many characteristics that you can highlight on a gene string, and as far as it goes with pumpkins, you can find a fabulously chunky orange canvas, or you can have one that's dainty and edible. But not both. If it's big enough to carve a vampire face on, it's probably also going to be bland, stringy, and watery. Roast the seeds, yes, but put the rest to rest in your big green bin.

The baker's secret, however, is that even those cute little pumpkins, often sold under the names Sugar Pie or Sugar Pumpkin, are just not all that delicious. Compared to that supermarket workhorse, the beige-skinned butternut, even the cutest pumpkin is all bark, no bite. The butternut is dense and rich-fleshed, wonderful roasted and pureed into soups with apple and sage or a little curry powder and coconut milk. Mashed butternut is what I use for homemade pumpkin pies, pumpkin bread, and pumpkin cookies, and the only difference is how much better it tastes than actual pumpkin.

All these hard-shelled winter squashes are in the same family of cucurbits, anyway, under the same umbrella that shelters melons, cucumbers, summer squash and zucchini. Winter squash get their name not from their growing season (they need 100+ days of warm weather, ripening just at the tail end of summer and then curing on the vines for a few more weeks into early fall) but from their usefulness as a winter staple. Once cured--that is, left in the field or in a cool, airy place for a few weeks--their skin hardens, their curvy stem (a peduncle, for those botantically inclined) dries to almost wood-like firmness, and they can be stored in a cool, dry place with little loss of flavor or texture for months on end. Their only real enemies are warmth and moisture.

But good as butternuts are, there's no reason to stop there. Right now the markets are lavishly stocked with every size and crazy streaked-and-spotted shape of winter squash. There's the delicate delicata, ivory-skinned with green stripes and orange flecks over a pale yellow-peach flesh. You can slice it into narrow half-moons, massage lightly with olive oil and bake until tender. The thin skin is edible to all but the most fastidious. For those folks, cut the squash in half lengthwise, scrape out the seeds and strings, and fill with an autumnal bread or wild-rice stuffing. Bake until squash is fork-tender and filling has browned and crisped.

There are other variations on the delicata, like the dumpling squash, shaped like an oversized popover and perfect for stuffing.

The squarish, dark green buttercup squash is for those who like their squash dry and nutty, tasting like a cross between roasted chestnuts and baked sweet potato. In their Ladybug newsletters, Andy and Julia of Mariquita Farm have sung the praises of two big beige squash, the plump, round-cheeked Long Island cheese pumpkin and the deeply grooved, deep-orange fleshed Musquee de Provence squash, also called the Fairytale pumpkin for its Cinderella-coach shape.

Although, if I were a mouse looking for glamor, I'd hitch myself to a Rouge Vif d'Etampes pumpkin and wait for the fairy godmother to descend. This is the most glamorous squash of all, vivid orange-red, huge and elegantly grooved. If you've ever wanted to make a pumpkin soup and serve it in a pumpkin, this is the one you want. Not surprisingly, given its shape and its tongue-twisting French name, it's often called the Cinderella pumpkin. Carved out, it also makes a striking ice bucket for an autumn brunch.

But my favorite remains a tricky-to-find recent hybrid, the Sunshine kabocha. Bright orange skinned, it's easy to confuse with the Red Kuri, but once tasted, it can't be mistaken for anything but its amazingly delectable self. Oh, all right, I'll admit it: roasted, it tastes like chicken. Or, even better, like the incredibly savory drippings left at the bottom of the pan after you roast a chicken. Trust me: if you think you don't like squash because you've only ever eaten those bland and pasty little baked acorn squash, you owe it your tastebuds to seek out--or grow--a Sunshine kabocha. A plain old kabocha is pretty good, too, sweet and nutty, but the Sunshine variety is just nubbly orange heaven.

Once you've done something virtuously savory with your roasted squash--soup, a suave puree--then it's time for a few treats. Squash, like applesauce, adds moisture without fat to baked goods, and it seems everyone turns out a loaf or two of low-fat pumpkin bread this time of year.

Then again, we are moving into hibernation weather and a holiday mood. At least once this month, follow the lead of Alameda home baker Steven Mounce and get every Peter Pumpkin Eater at your table moaning with pleasure over this lush pumpkin bread pudding. Trust Mounce: a man with the word "homemade" tattooed on his knuckles knows what you want.

Pumpkin Bread Pudding
Serves 6-8
Did you know that canned pumpkin is rarely actual pumpkin, but rather butternut or other winter squash? Whatever you call it, plain canned pumpkin is always a handy staple, since it can be used in both sweet and savory dishes. Of course, you can also roast and mash your own for this gorgeously warming centerpiece for brunch or dessert.

Ingredients:
4 eggs
2 cups half and half
15 oz can pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling) , or 1 3/4 cups roasted, mashed butternut or kabocha squash
¾ cup brown sugar
3 tablespoons dark molasses
¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
1 large loaf of French bread, cut into 2" cubes
½ cup walnuts, roughly chopped
¼ cup raisins or dried cranberries
3 tablespoons butter, softened
3 tablespoons brown sugar

Preparation:
1. In a large bowl, whisk eggs, half and half, pumpkin, brown sugar, molasses, salt, and spices together. Add bread cubes to bowl in batches, stirring well between each batch. Add only enough bread to soak up liquid mixture; you may not need all the bread. Let mixture rest for 15 minutes.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Fill a kettle or pitcher with hot water, and set aside. Lightly grease an 8"x8" glass baking dish. Stir nuts and raisins into bread mixture. Spoon mixtures loosely into baking dish. Do not pack bread mixture into dish. Mound lightly above edge of the dish if necessary.

3. Place glass baking dish into a 13"x9" baking pan. Place both dishes on the center rack of the oven. Pour hot water into larger baking pan to come up halfway on the glass pan. Bake for 30 minutes, until top is golden brown and center is set. While bread pudding is baking, stir together butter and 3 tablespoons brown sugar, and set aside.

4. When pudding is baked, remove glass pan from oven and set on a rack. (Wait to remove water-filled pan until oven has cooled.) Dot with brown sugar mixture, which will melt into a gooey caramel sauce, mmm. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Got a fabulous pumpkin recipe to share? Enter Omnivore Books' pumpkin cooking contest. Everything from soup to muffins considered, as long as the main ingredient is pumpkin. Sat. Nov. 21, 4-5pm.