The Inflammatory Pumpkin Issue

 To many people, a passionate discussion about canned pumpkin would seem insane.  Or boring.  Who cares what it really is?

But to my friend Kim and I it was an inflammatory issue.

"I swear," I said, "I read that it was actually butternut squash.  And that makes sense, really.  The texture-"

"Naw."said Kim,"Where, exactly, did you read that?"  Kim used to work at a respected local newspaper called The Rocky Mountain News.  She was an educator for thirty years, has a master's degree, is world traveled, and wants sources.

"It was a while ago," I admitted, "And I could be making it up.   But I think it was Reader's Digest."

"That was a long time ago!"

"Really long!"

We both cracked up for a while, thinking about how old we were.

"But why would they even do that?" Kim demanded.

  "Who knows?"I said, "But I've never grown a Halloween pumpkin that baked better than a butternut."

"I just-I don't think they can-that they would do that."

https://www.rd.com/article/is-canned-pumpkin-really-squash/

This remained a troublesome mystery for months until late October, when I hijacked a normal conversation with, "Oh my god!  I saw an article online about Libby's canned pumpkin!"

Kim grabbed onto it."What?"

"They have their own variety they grow especially for the canned product!"

"They what?!"

"There's pictures!  So," (I heard my voice go soto voce, black-and-white detective style)it's the shape of a butternut, but the skin is brown.  And they grow it just for the canned pumpkin product.  Turns out that botanically, there is no difference between a pumpkin and a squash."

Kim's voice matched mine with a fascinated hush, "Really!"

"So we were both right!  It is a pumpkin but it looks like a butternut!  it's both!  Holy shit!"

"Holy shit!"

"Are we total dweebs or what?"

Kim and I laughed at ourselves for a good three minutes, wave after wave of laughter.  It's how we laugh.  It dies off and then starts up again, gaining over time, until we wear ourselves out. Occasionally one of us would say, "Garden dweebs!  or, "Food dweebs!"And we'd keep laughing through it.

I wish more inflammatory issues were resolved that way.