Many thanks for the thoughtful commments to my last post. In addition to those posted here I recieved several e-mails and everyone who shared their thoughts has given us much to consider. With more thinking time, I'll be posting a follow-up - one that will address the crazy privilege involved in even having such a problem. Of course, the utter ridiculousness associated with a white, affluent, Christian family pondering what might happen if they stepped outside the norm for a spell, well, let's just say that having read my last post I'm beginning to understand why my friends and relations are sick to death of the subject.

Now then. A bit less navel-gazing is in order, I think. (After wrote this I thought, "What is a blog for, but navel-gazing? If I stopped writing about my preoccupations, what on earth would I write? Short stories?" No. I have no narrative sense to speak of, so as long as I'm here I supposed I ought to make peace with the fact that it's all navel-gazing, all time. Carrying on...)

Among the many pumpkins I picked up for processing into plain puree and pumpkin butter was one lovely specimen, pale orangish with green and yellow stripes. I'd never seen one like it and enthusiastically agreed to put it on our cart when the kids found it nestled among the more standard pie-types where it was the only one of its kind. The pumpkin sat on the kitchen table for more than two months before I was able to do something with it and, once I eventually did, found that inside, too, it was unlike any of the other pumpkins we bought. For one thing, the flesh was almost yellow and had a soft, delicate feel. It pureed beautifully and I am very curious as to how it will work in baking or as a base for a mousse or soup.

And the seeds (which are really what this post is about)! The seeds were green! Oh, I'd seen the hull-less* pepitas in stores and called for in recipes but to actually open a pumpkin and find them is another matter entirely. Their discovery reminded me immediately of a great mole I once had made of ground roasted seeds along with tomatillas - which you know how much I love - and peppers. It's not often I get the urge to make a mole, but with the principle ingredient of pipián (also known as mole verde) staring me right in the face in my very own kitchen, what else could I have done?

So I set about looking online for recipes and procuring the remaining ingredients, sticking to my tried-and-true method of following no one recipe in particular. The result was delicious, although not quite what I remembered of that long-ago dish and not at all what I was shooting for this time. Still, I think the recipe is worth noting, not only for sharing (second only to navel-gazing as a reason to blog) but also so the next time I find myself face to face with an unexpected bounty of pepitas I'm ready. So, to make my version (very low on the authenticity scale) of pipián:

Place one cup of dry green, hull-less pumpkin seeds in a small skillet over low heat. Roast, stirring constantly, for about five minutes and set aside to cool. In the meantime, place three cups of torn green romain lettuce in a food processor. Add in one medium onion, quartered, three large cloves of garlic, one cup of loosely packed cilantro leaves and two small cans of salsa verde tomatilla salsa (or one cup of home-canned). Pulse to process until the onions and lettuce are well-chopped and the mixture is uniformly smooth. Remove to a saucepan and cook over medium heat, adding 1/2 cup chicken broth very slowly to incorporate. Using a clean grinder, mini-chopper or knife, very finely chop the roasted seeds until they are almost a paste and add to the warming saucepan, stirring well to incorporate. Cook until heated through (the sauce may begin to brown, this is o.k.). Use as a cooking marinade for roasting meats (I used chicken) or sauteeing meats and/or vegetables. It's also very good just eaten out of the pan with a spoon, swooning because something so unexpected has resulted yet again in a very delicious experiment.