Early this year, I got it in my head to grow pumpkins. I thought it would be cute for our son to plant the seeds and watch them grow over the summer, producing big beautiful orange gourds we could use for pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, yummy pumpkin risotto and, of course, jack-o'lanterns for Halloween.
To borrow a hackneyed phrase, it was a win-win-win: my son would learn about nature while I'd get cred for being a model father and local food hipster.
Unfortunately, self-aggrandizement comes at great cost.
We planted two seeds in the greenhouse and watched the miracle of nature unfold. Green seedlings soon appeared and we mar-veled at their progress. Each day saw us on our hands and knees gauging pumpkin progress as they outpaced all other plants.
By mid-June, I was somewhat concerned the pumpkin duo was getting unruly and might take over the greenhouse. In an effort to save other vegetables, I started staking and training the two plants.
Mother Nature mocked my efforts: come July, the pumpkin pair had choked off all my cucumbers, their miserable tendrils winding around any plant that dared try co-exist within 20 feet. By August, it was a scene from Little Shop of Horrors.
I tried cutting the plants back, but to no avail. The only thing for it was to rip both up by the roots.
But what would my son say? I could handle the shame of being a failed foodie, but the prospect of disappointing my child was too great. Dear reader, you don't know defeat until you've been outwitted by a vegetable.
The result is that I succeeded in growing one sad little mal-shaped pumpkin about the size of a factory-defect softball. My kid was unimpressed.
Emasculation morphed into animus by October. It became impossible to drive past bountiful vegetable stands without hearing the silent sniggering of those hateful gourds. It is no mystery why pumpkins are the one vegetable associated with evil.
If the pumpkin has one redeeming quality, however, it is that it can be used in beer mash to flavour seasonal ales.
Pumpkin ales have a long history in the U.S., going back to the 17th century. (George Washington is said to have had his own recipe.) Native to North America, pumpkins were a versatile alternative for fermentable sugar when malt barley was not readily available.
Pumpkin ales fell out of favour in the 19th and early 20th centuries, but were resurrected by the craft-beer movement in the 1980s. Nowadays, pumpkin is mostly used as a flavouring agent rather than a substitute for malt. Moreover, most pumpkin beers are defined by the addition of pumpkin pie spices - cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, clove and allspice - rather than actual pumpkin.
With less than a week to go before Halloween, here are some pumpkin ales that won't leave the bitter aftertaste associated with growing them:
JUMPIN JACK PUMPKIN ALE
Tree Brewing Co., Kelowna
Double, double, toil and trouble went into making this bewitching brew of sweet malt, baking spice and caramel with, you guessed it, pumpkin. Try pairing with eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog...
NIGHT OWL PUMPKIN ALE
Elysian Brewing Co., Seattle
Woe to the headless horseman on the hallowed evening, for he won't be able to appreciate the subtle nuances of pumpkin pie spice and sweet malt in this ale. A natural companion for pumpkin pie.
NIGHTMARE ON MILL STREET
Mill Street Brewery, Toronto
Official beer of frady cats everywhere, this pumpkin beer is dark mahogany in the glass with creamy notes of caramel malt and coffee mingling with baking spice. Enjoy it under the covers with a flashlight.
PUMPKINEATER IMPERIAL PUMPKIN ALE
Howe Sound Brewing Co.,
Squamish
This monster mash has a lot of spice to it and is a bit hot in terms of alcohol. It's a delightful hell-broth, but drink too much and you'll be seeing dead people.
THE GREAT PUMPKIN ALE
St-Ambroise, McAuslan
Brewing Inc., Montreal
This ale is light and fruity, but a bit insipid for my liking. Still, the low alcohol content makes it ideal for a long night waiting for the Great Pumpkin to appear.
SCHADENFREUDE
Parallel 49 Brewing Co., Vancouver
Take pleasure in the torment of others while enjoying this booh-tiful beer. Amber in colour, this ale smells and tastes like pumpkin pie in a glass. Pair it with a pillowcase of Halloween candy.
Note: Pumpkin ales have cast a spell on Victorians this fall, with stock running out at many stores. Call around to see what potions are still available.
