The day before Halloween the organic vegetable box arrived.  ‘What’s in the box?’ I wondered, hoping there’d be a pumpkin (and no curly kale).

I pounced on the leaflet. At this time of year there’s usually an abundance of seasonal squashes and the box company make an effort to be festive. Yep. Pumpkin was listed.

So I unpacked and put away the produce, item by item: leeks, carrots, potatoes, expecting to come upon the pumpkin. Nothing. Oh well. It happens sometimes, you have to go with the flow, but - damn - now I’d have to go out and buy one from the supermarket.

Tradition! It must be upheld! There would be a Halloween pumpkin lantern and pumpkin soup in this house.

But wait - right at the bottom of the box, under the purple sprouting brocoli - my hand touched a small spherical shape. I pulled it out. Ahhh! A little warty gourd - orange, yes - but surely not a pumpkin?

Pumpkin it was. No bigger than an apple. The littlest pumpkin I’ve ever seen.

‘Come and see!’ I said.

‘What’s that?’ said Jnr, ‘Do we have to eat it?’

‘Technically, it looks like a pumpkin,’ said J.

‘I think it is. But it’s too small,’ I said.

‘What a shame,’ they said together.

‘You’ll never be able to carve a face in that,’ said Jnr.

‘Or make soup,’ said J.

J and Jnr exchanged a glance.

‘What?’ I said.

‘Nothing,’ they said, and left the room.

‘ I will,’ I said, ‘Just you wait and see.’

So I found my smallest, meanest-looking kitchen knife and set about sharpening the point on a carborundum stone. Swish, swish. Swish, swish.  Yes. We’ll see about that, I thought.

I lifted the littlest pumpkin out of the box. What a sorry little thing it was, clinging to its clods of earth, all stunted and warty. It made me sad, seeing it so teenyweeny and balanced on the palm of my hand but I washed it and scrubbed it and rubbed it all dry. It was so cute and shiny, I hardly liked to cut it.

I eyed it up. Squinted. A face became manifest. My blade glinted. Ha! Off with the top of its head!

There was no stopping me now. Stab, scoop, scrape, sculpt. All its little innards scooted in the bowl.  Not even enough for a spicy thai papaya/pumpkin salad.  Sob.

Outside an owl hooted. It sounded like a scream…

(Yes, that is an egg cup.)

And that’s what became of the littlest pumpkin.

The End.

But what about the pumpkin soup?

Never fear, dear reader. What are freezers and microwaves for?

‘J! Jnr! Supper’s ready!’

And here’s some I prepared earlier…

[Demonic laughter.]

Last Modified : November 3rd, 2008 Filed under : comestibles, knives Navigate : Previous post / Next post