Forget the turkey, real hero of the day is the pumpkin

Turkeys, turkeys, turkeys.

Enough about the big old birds. The true hero of the day is the pumpkin.

It seems like Linus was the only one who appreciated and honored this amazing fruit that was once used to remove freckles and cure snake bites.

Throughout the rest of the year the pumpkin is revered and praised. The fruit is mostly water and a great source of fiber, Vitamin A and potassium. Even loving mothers refer to their sweet round-faced cherubs as "little pumpkins."

Everything changes when the air takes on a chill and the leaves start to turn. That's the time when every pumpkin must run for its very life.

First the pumpkin must face the Halloween season, where it is cut and mutilated. We pull out its guts and leave it to rot on the stoop in the cold. Such treatment does not seem appropriate in the state where 90 percent of pumpkins in America are grown.

For those who make it through Halloween, the fate is equally as bad.

They might get squashed and squished and then shoved into a tin can. They sit on the bottom shelf of a store rack waiting to be picked.

Like the klutzy kid who is the last one picked for kickball, the pumpkin waits and waits, knowing that bakers are lost in the aisles, saying, "Is it a fruit or a vegetable?"

Those canned pumpkins that don't get picked face death by expiration. Sitting on the bottom shelf they often are overlooked and thrown out when their very pride makes the can swell.

Of course, there are a precious few who remain on the vine. Just when they think they have it made, coddled and cared for with special attention and food, they realize that they are contest pumpkins.

They aren't removed from the vine until their size reaches near explosion. In a weight-conscious country such as ours, where diet drugs are a million dollar business, shouldn't we be honoring the thinnest pumpkin?

My heart goes out to the pumpkin that meets its end by being catapulted over fields and fairways. One big splat and it's all over. Pie pumpkins probably have the best life. They often get to enjoy a hot tub experience before the end.

"I cut the pumpkin up into little chunks and boil it," said Bridget Christianson of Batavia, local pie baker. "Then I freeze it for later use."

I personally prefer the sauna method of baking the pumpkin until it is soft.

For Christianson, the opportunity to make a pumpkin pie from scratch for Thanksgiving is important.

"It's the one time of the year that I get to feel like Martha Stewart," she added.

Kitchen professional Dee Schuman of Batavia prefers the canned method for her pumpkin pies.

"I've made it from scratch," she said. "But for time and convenience, you can't beat the canned pumpkin."

Whatever method you use, be thankful for that pie and the pumpkin that gave its life just to hear you praise the flaky crust.

Happy Thanksgiving.