The Potimarron

This is my new favorite vegetable: the potimarron.  It was planted for the first time in our garden last year and I find it amazing.  Its name is part pumpkin (potiron) and part chestnut (marron) and tastes like a supped- up pumpkin and with hints of chestnut.  I asked Christophe if he knew that’s how it got its name and he just laughed at me, “You love both pumpkin and chestnuts so I thought would have been obvious.”

Regardless of my vernacular oversight, it still intrigued me.  Many resources say it has Japanese origins, but I found one French resource that states it from South America and was probably first named Hokkaido squash by the Japanese.  Whatever its origins, it seems to be lacking a clear history.  What I do know is that it is coming back into fashion in the haut-cuisines of France.  Last year, we had dinner at Le Jardin des Sens in Montpellier, and not only did the potimarron grace their menu, it was used as autumnal table decorations.  I’m guessing it fell out of fashion since it’s smaller than other pumpkins, but is becoming popular again for its rich and delicate flavor.

We told Madame Gousse we ate our first potimarron last Sunday and she gasped, thinking we should save it for the middle of winter.  Little does she know we have a dozen growing, so happily we don’t have to horde them.  With our first poitmarron, Christophe made a creamy soup, tossed in sautéed vegetables and topped with a grilled sole fillet with fresh fennel sprouts.  I couldn’t think of a better way to meld the flavors of summer and the beginning of fall.

Soupe de potimarron aux légumes croquants de saison, filet de sole tropicale aux pousses de fenouil

Monsieur Potiron

For the last few years in our garden, we’ve had some form of a potiron, or pumpkin.  This year, we have a potiron galeux, which refers to the bumps it forms on its outer shell. We use it in all forms: soups, pastas, mashed, and even in nutty breads.  A single potiron from our garden can weigh 20-30 pounds, so even one from the garden is enough to keep us going for most of the winter.  Our neighbors, Monsieur and Madame Gousse had one so big a few years back that they had to use a wheel barrel to get it out of the garden.

When planted, we tend to the seedling very closely, giving it lots of water.  Each day, we tour the garden and are amazed with its rapid growth.  This year, it has done remarkable well.  In fact, it has crawled over the six foot tall tomato stakes, climbed the wall, and trotted along the terrace and is about to reach the other side.  Needless to say, it is enormous. 


Monsieur Potiron along the terrace



climbing the wall

Its presence is so commanding that we’ve gone from calling ‘it’ a potiron to giving it a title and calling it ‘Monsieur’.  It seems to fit him, and I think he’s flourished even more with his new status because we don’t have one potiron on the vine, we have six – with new fruit still forming.  It has attracted attention from every passing person, and by the path it’s making to the fence, I think it’s making an effort to reach out and touch them.  He seems friendly enough, but I was tripped in the garden the other day after hungrily admiring one of the fruits.

Perhaps it’s best not to tell him about Halloween or Thanksgiving.