Walk into a grocery store in October and you’re basically entering a biological minefield of lumpy, striped, and neon-orange gourds. Most of us just grab a pumpkin for the porch and a butternut for the soup and call it a day. But if you’ve ever stopped to wonder what kinds of squash are there, you’re actually looking at one of the most diverse plant families on the planet. Cucurbitaceae. That’s the fancy Latin name. It covers everything from the massive prize-winning pumpkins at the state fair to that weird, warty thing your neighbor grew that looks like a literal alien egg.
Honestly, squash is confusing because the line between "decoration" and "dinner" is incredibly thin. Some of the prettiest ones taste like wet cardboard. Others look like a mistake but roast up into something better than candy.
The Great Divide: Summer vs. Winter
Before we get into the weeds, you have to understand the two main camps. It’s not about when they grow—most squash grows in the summer heat—it’s about when you eat them.
Summer squash are the impatient ones. They’re harvested while they’re still young and tender. You eat the skin, the seeds, the whole deal. Think zucchini or yellow crookneck. If you leave a zucchini on the vine too long, it turns into a wooden baseball bat that nobody wants. Winter squash, on the other hand, are the long-gamers. They stay on the vine until their skins are thick, tough, and essentially armor-plated. This lets them sit in a cold cellar for months without rotting. That's why they’re called "winter" squash; they were the survival food of our ancestors.
The Classics You Already Know (But Maybe Don’t Use Right)
We have to talk about Butternut. It’s the MVP for a reason. It’s reliable. It’s sweet. It’s got that smooth, tan skin that's a nightmare to peel unless you have a sharp Y-peeler. One thing people mess up? They under-roast it. You want those sugars to caramelize. If it isn't slightly browned, you're missing the point.
Then there’s Spaghetti Squash. This one is a bit of a trickster. It’s the only squash that doesn't want to be a puree. When you cook it, the flesh pulls apart into strands. Is it a perfect replacement for pasta? No. Don’t lie to yourself. But is it a fantastic vessel for garlic, butter, and parmesan? Absolutely. Just don't overcook it, or it turns into mushy strings.
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Acorn Squash is the one that looks like, well, a giant green acorn. It’s often the first "real" squash people try stuffing with sausage or apples. It’s got a bit of a fibrous texture compared to butternut, and the skin is technically edible, though usually too tough to be enjoyable.
The Weird Stuff: Why You Should Try a Kabocha
If you really want to answer the question of what kinds of squash are there, you have to look past the orange bins. Enter the Kabocha. This is a Japanese variety, and frankly, it ruins all other squash once you’ve had it. The skin is dark green and bumpy. The inside is a deep, vivid orange.
The magic of Kabocha is the texture. It’s dense. It’s almost like a cross between a sweet potato and a chestnut. It doesn't get watery. You can roast it in thick wedges—skin on—and it stays firm. Plus, the skin becomes tender enough to eat, saving you the thumb-slicing danger of peeling.
The French Connection and the "Cheese" Squash
Ever seen a squash that looks like a flattened, dusty-looking pumpkin? That’s probably a Musquée de Provence. These are massive. In French markets, they often sell them by the slice because a whole one could feed a small village. They have a complex, almost musky flavor that makes standard pumpkins taste like water.
Then there’s the Long Island Cheese Squash. It doesn't taste like cheddar. It’s called that because it looks like a vintage wheel of cheese. It’s one of the oldest varieties cultivated in the U.S. and was actually the preferred squash for regional pumpkin pies for decades. If you see one at a farmer's market, grab it. It’s far superior to the "pie pumpkins" you find at the supermarket.
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The Hidden Gems: Delicata and Honeynut
If you hate peeling squash—and let’s be real, we all do—Delicata is your best friend. It’s small, oblong, and yellow with green stripes. The skin is so thin it’s basically part of the flesh. You just slice it into rings, toss it with olive oil, and roast it. It tastes like corn and honey. It’s low-effort, high-reward.
Honeynut is a newer face on the scene. It was actually bred by Dan Barber and Michael Mazourek at Cornell University specifically for flavor. It looks like a miniature butternut that stayed in a tanning bed too long. It’s tiny, concentrated, and incredibly sweet. Because it was designed in a lab (the good kind of lab), it solves the "watery squash" problem entirely.
What Most People Get Wrong About Pumpkins
Here is the truth: most pumpkins are squash, but not all squash are pumpkins. And most of the pumpkins we use for Jack-o'-lanterns? They’re terrible for eating. They’ve been bred for size and thin walls (for easy carving), not for flavor. They’re stringy and bland.
If you want to cook with a pumpkin, look for Sugar Pumpkins or Pie Pumpkins. They’re smaller, heavier for their size, and have a much higher sugar content. Or, honestly, just use a butternut. Most canned "pumpkin" puree in the U.S. is actually a variety of Dickinson squash, which looks more like a tan watermelon than a Cinderella carriage.
Beyond the Plate: Ornamental and Utility
Not every squash is for eating. Gourds are the cousins that showed up to the party just for the aesthetics.
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- Birdhouse Gourds: Literally used for centuries to make birdhouses, ladles, and bottles once they dry out and harden.
- Luffa: Yes, the sponge in your shower comes from a gourd. It’s a squash that grows on a vine. When it dries, the flesh disappears, leaving behind a fibrous skeleton.
- Turban Squash: These look like a squash wearing a smaller, different-colored squash as a hat. They’re edible, but mostly used for centerpieces because they’re a pain to cut.
Tips for the Produce Aisle
When you're out there trying to identify what kinds of squash are there, use your hands. A good winter squash should feel heavy. If it feels light, it's likely dried out inside. Look for the stem; it should be dry and woody. If the stem is soft or leaking, that squash is on its way out.
Don't worry about scars or "ground spots." A creamy yellow spot just means that’s where it sat on the dirt while ripening in the sun. It’s a sign of a squash that wasn't rushed.
Putting Your Squash Knowledge to Work
If you’re staring at a pile of different varieties and don't know where to start, try these specific pairings. They work every time.
- Roasting for a Salad: Go with Delicata. The rings look beautiful, and you don’t have to peel them.
- Making a Creamy Soup: Use Kabocha or Red Kuri. Their low water content makes for a velvety texture without needing a ton of cream.
- Low-Carb "Pasta": Stick to the Spaghetti Squash, but roast it cut-side up to let the moisture evaporate.
- The Best Pie of Your Life: Seek out a Long Island Cheese or a Hubbard squash.
Squash isn't just a side dish; it's a massive category of food that spans every continent. From the Mexican calabacitas (a type of zucchini) to the giant Atlantic pumpkins that weigh as much as a small car, the variety is staggering. The next time you’re at the market, skip the zucchini and grab something with a weird name and a bumpy skin. It’s usually where the best flavor is hiding.
Your Next Steps:
Head to a local farmer's market specifically to look for heirloom varieties like the Blue Hubbard or Red Kuri. These "old world" types offer flavors—smoky, nutty, and floral—that grocery store hybrids simply cannot match. When you get home, don't boil them. Roasting at high heat (400°F or higher) is the only way to truly unlock the sugars in these dense vegetables.