Note: Here's a little piece I wrote for my creative writing class recently, inspired by 19th-century essayists like Lamb, Chesterton, and Beerbohm. It's meant to be sarcastic, even if it doesn't manage to be funny, so please don't take it too seriously.
Over the last few years, the fall season has brought with it a new crisis: the Pumpkin Wars. Everyone must take a side; either you love pumpkin, or you don’t. And if you’re on the “don’t” side, then you must not only pass on seconds of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving; you actually must take a strong stance against all things pumpkin.
Of course, this isn’t about pumpkin pie. Pumpkin pie, we all agree, is a harmless, unimpressive Thanksgiving staple. Even the pumpkin lovers aren’t necessarily that interested in pumpkin pie. It’s the other pumpkin things that spark debate. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin muffins. Pumpkin cheesecake. Pumpkin butter. Pumpkin chocolate, hot cocoa, air freshener, candles, coffee.
I must admit I’m on the pro-pumpkin side of the argument. I’m the nut who waits for pumpkin all year long and then attempts to drown in it for the three months it’s available. I roast and puree my own pumpkins and keep bags of puree in my freezer. I try to sneak pumpkin into every possible dessert and, hey, even breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
(A couple weeks ago, I read on a food blog that in fact it’s not the flavor of pumpkin itself that people like, it’s the spices that tend to come with it--cinnamon, cloves, allspice. I am so determined to disagree with this notion that I adamantly refuse to even consider it. If I’m wrong, I’m happy to cling to my ignorance.)