Sincere Pumpkins

Ever October since I moved back to the northeast in the late 1990s, I have made a point of buying a "sincere pumpkin" or two to commemorate the season. At first I went to Tice's Farm in Woodcliff Lake to buy my pumpkins, where I would partake in the doughnuts and apple cider I remembered so well from growing up. Tice's neighbor, Van Ripers, closed its doors in 1994 but Tices carried on until 1999. Today the site is home to Tice's Corner Marketplace, a non-descriptive, strip mall. With Tices and Van Ripers long gone, I usually buy my pumpkins, cider, and doughnuts at Demarest Farms in Hillsdale, NJ. They do a fine job. My annual pilgrimage is made all the more special because we used to buy corn and blueberries from the Demarest roadside stand. They have since built a large market across the street from the original stand, and use it as a gathering point for the people they let pick fruit from their orchards.

What makes a pumpkin sincere? I naively believe it has much to do with the frame of mind of the person who is buying it. It also has to be locally grown and sold by a long-time farmer.

To my way of thinking it is important to imagine yourself as a child filled with the wonders of the season when you go to purchase the pumpkins. I like to first stop and dwell upon autumn's colors and unique tastes, like the apples and pumpkins which seem omnipresent, and then consciously go to choose a pumpkin. I look for a small, bright colored pumpkin with a strong stem. I don't carve them as I want them to last, and I don't possess a talent for carving. The pumpkin should be able to stand for weeks on its own in order to rate the accolade of a sincere pumpkin. This strategy has yet to fail me and it allows me to feel the authentic meaning of my ritual long into November.