This commentary was written by Walt Amses, a writer who lives in North Calais.
I often invest time and energy in serious investigative journalism, particularly when questions need answers, situations require far more than a superficial glance, or subtle threats have infiltrated without setting off too many alarm bells. Others probably perceived these issues as well but hadn’t paid them much mind simply because, like most Americans, they’re far too busy being far too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. In fact, in its own insidious way, this issue has become quite ordinary and therein dangerous. You’ve probably guessed by now what I’m talking about.
Years ago, since they mainly showed up in autumn, first as jack-o’-lanterns on Halloween and then later, as tasty pies on Thanksgiving, pumpkins have crept into our lives so gradually we’ve sat idly by while the country was inundated each fall with what R.E.M. or the Denver Broncos might call an “Orange Crush.” But whether you’re celebrating music or mayhem, you’d be hard pressed to deny that between the days growing short as we reach September and dwindling down to a precious few, gourds rule. It’s become pumpkin everything.
Which prompted my initial quest for as much data on this seasonal invasion as I could lay my hands on. So I Googled “pumpkin everything” but instead of the usual multiplicity of website insights and glut of related information, I landed on a Facebook community called “Pumpkin Everything,” created by a woman named Lara, claiming to have “loved all things pumpkin for as long as I can remember.” With over 140,000 followers, posting inane comments and photographs of guess what. The pledging of pumpkin allegiance began feeling like a cult, albeit a harmless one, like the people who collect salt and pepper shakers and meet in RV parks.
Mysterious even to me, I somehow found out that in August, a guy broke the record for floating on a river in a 767-pound pumpkin that he grew himself. He’d never tried such a thing before, vowing to never do it again but managing to travel nearly 38 miles down the Missouri River, hefting a beer afterward, asserting “the biggest feat was to grow a pumpkin big enough to do this.” Just about as frivolous as most of the pop-up nonsense we typically encounter daily on our various devices, this, apparently for me, was a tipping point.
I’ve never really thought much about it, but if I had, I’d most likely think that aside from pie, the pumpkin spiced latte would have been quite sufficient to get us through the autumn holidays, especially since the only one I’ve ever had tasted a lot like that same pie put through a blender set on liquify. It tasted kind of stupid, like drinkable candy, so I dismissed it immediately as anything worthy of entering my mouth. That was well before marketing determined anything worth doing was worth doing until it became a parody of itself. And even then, if it continued making money, sell the hell out of it because after all, nothing succeeds in life like excess in the too much is not enough world.
While the initial foray into Latte Land was unsurprisingly by Starbucks in 2001 and Peter Dukes, now the company’s director of Global Growth and Concepts who was once in charge of espresso drinks. Fresh off the success of another barely drinkable holiday favorite Peppermint Mocha, Dukes and others were charged with creating a drink for fall. According to CBS News, they eventually narrowed their initial hundred concepts down to 10 with caramel and chocolate initially winning out in taste tests but the pumpkin idea stayed alive after they brought slices of pumpkin pie into the R&D lab, “poured shots of espresso on ‘em and ate ‘em”
As they say, the rest is history. Actually, more like well beyond history. The sheer volume of pumpkin-esque offerings is inescapable this time of year as bizarre and redundant as some of them can be. With the guy bobbing down the Missouri as the catalyst, my antennae were primed and ready. I would search for the orange gourds in whatever dark corners they lurked, which turned out to be pretty easy because they didn’t lurk. They were right out there in the open, flaunting their seasonal status as the national fruit of choice.
Pumpkin spiced baked goods made some sense as variations on a pie theme but pumpkin Twinkies or Oreos? How about a little pumpkin in your popcorn, or chocolate truffles? Cereal, nondairy creamer, almonds, bonbons, cheesecake ice cream and biscotti all make the cut. But exploring the pumpkinization of all things edible quickly veers into “Whose idea was this?” territory. And — full disclosure — I never actually attempted eating or drinking any of the products listed since my gag reflex was activated by simply reading labels and imagining how they might taste.
How about, for instance, pumpkin spiced instant noodles, eggnog, yogurt, and even vegan mini marshmallows… which sound like they should be accompanied by an attendant well versed in the Heimlich maneuver. You can cleanse your palate with pumpkin-flavored beer. If you’re wondering what wine pairs with pumpkin-infused gnocchi or pumpkin-filled ravioli, wonder no more. The California Fruit Wine Company fills the bill with a vintage called Pumpkin Bog, which sounds confused with cranberries.
As my investigation intensified, I realized I’d bitten off more than I could chew, especially considering the thought of chewing anything on the growing list of culinary catastrophes filled me with dread. Can anything be worse than what KFC is calling a “Pumpkin and Feta Twister”? Is there a way of making candy corn or Peeps taste worse? Even the option of brushing it all away with pumpkin spiced toothpaste or soap on a rope offered little solace. I was out of my league.
Paging Merrick Garland.