For some reason in the past week, preservation seems to have become a key word for me. I have consoled friends hoping to preserve their sanity after a tumultuous election cycle, heard from others making preserves with the last of their fall bounty, corresponded with friends who are preserving seeds of heirloom grains and squashes, and sat at a meeting about the preservation of a garden which I cherish and at which I volunteer. And somehow, it all seems tied into Thanksgiving, because we save or attempt to preserve what we are truly thankful for – friendships, cherished varieties and species of bulbs and other plants, our environment, family recipes, memories of those we love who are no longer with us and, hopefully, our sense of what is right and wrong.
I often confuse the words cherish and covet, somehow losing the sense of envy that is inherent in the word covet. I do not think of myself as a person with large material desires or needs, so somehow the word covet has taken on a different meaning from the sense of desiring what others have. Or perhaps it takes on its original meaning. I do not know. When I think of coveting something, I think of valuing it and desiring it — not with the desire for a sense of ownership but with a responsibility for its preservation and long-term survival. I do not envy my friend George Schoellkopf at Hollister House Garden for the wonderful single white dahlia that he grows, but I suppose I covet the plant, and when he generously gives me a division of its tubers, I feel a responsibility to care for it properly and share it with others. This to me is the American way, sharing what we have, with the desire that what we cherish remains in the world for generations to come. It is for this spirit, which I think is in abundance amongst gardeners, that I am most grateful.
Perhaps what is most meaningful to me about Thanksgiving is that its purpose, going back to the Pilgrims, has been about sharing the bounty of the season, not just with our families but with others who may not look like us or practice the same religion, but with whom we share a common humanity. This sense of community is how we pass along our horticultural legacy as well, saving seeds of open-pollinated pumpkins and squashes and sharing them with other gardeners, taking slips of our favorite plants (or tubers from our dahlias), creating conservation easements and foundations to preserve significant landscapes and gardens, and sharing recipes (such as my favorite pumpkin-cauliflower gratin) for using the pumpkins that we grew from the seeds given to us. This generosity is at the center of our spirit and essential to a well-led life and to a nation of diverse people that is both plural and singular in the true sense of E pluribis unum.
So this season as I cut the pumpkins and cauliflower for my gratin, I will remind myself of all that I am thankful for – Amy Goldman’s wonderful book on squashes and pumpkins that calls to mind the season and her tireless work to preserve cherished varieties, the wheat that my friend Scott Peacock is working to save in Alabama along with Piney Woods cattle, the newly dug dahlia tubers that will go back into the garden next season to carry forward and to remind me of the beauty of George’s garden even when I am not there, George’s garden which is being preserved for the public as Hollister House Garden, some fragrant poeticus daffodils bulbs from a friend that were planted right before the first snowfall, and all of those gardeners and Americans who have come before me and will follow after me who share their knowledge, their plants, and their love of our land and country and what is has to offer to us all.
And, so that no one need covet, in the traditional sense of the word, my recipe for pumpkin-cauliflower gratin, I will share it and hope that it, too, takes on a life of its own.
Recipe for pumpkin cauliflower gratin
(It would not be fall for me, without a round or two of making this pumpkin cauliflower gratin, which can be personalized by the addition of herbs, cheese or even other vegetables. It makes a great meal on its own, or is a wonderful side dish with roasted meat or turkey, and can easily be scaled up for larger gatherings. It also gives me an excuse to buy an array of squashes for decorating for Thanksgiving, because I can use them afterwards for dishes like this.)
! ¼ teaspoons salt
1 ½ teaspoons pepper
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
Butter
I sugar pumpkin or butternut squash, peeled and sliced into ¼-inch thick wedges
I medium head cauliflower, sliced down the center into ¼-inch thick pieces
½ cup finely diced Fontina cheese
1 ½ cups half-and-half
Bread Crumb Topping
I cup unseasoned breadcrumbs
I tablespoon melted butter
¼ cup grated Parmesan
3 tablespoons lightly toasted pine nuts
- Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In a small mixing bowl, combine salt, pepper, and flour. Set aside.
- Butter a deep baking dish or cast-iron pan. Begin to layer vegetables starting with pumpkin, then sprinkle with the seasoned flour. Next, add a layer of cauliflower, then a sprinkling of Fontina. Continue layering, alternating the vegetables, flour and cheese, making sure to end with a top layer of pumpkin.
- Pour the half-and-half over the top and bake. While the gratin is baking, combine ingredients for topping and mix thoroughly.
- After about 30 minutes, sprinkle gratin and bread crumb topping and bake for an additional 45 minutes. Let gratin settle for 10 minutes before serving.
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A gardener grows through observation, experimentation, and learning from the failures, triumphs, and hard work of oneself and others. In this sense, all gardeners are self-taught, while at the same time intrinsically connected to a tradition and a community that finds satisfaction through working the soil and sharing their experiences with one another. This column explores those relationships and how we learn about the world around us from plants and our fellow gardeners.
