Think about the last time you saw a pumpkin. It was probably sitting on a porch, carved into a toothy grin, or maybe it was swirled into a latte that cost seven dollars. We treat them like seasonal decorations, like plastic skeletons or tinsel. But pumpkins aren't just props. They’ve been around longer than the concept of a "holiday." Honestly, if you want to know where did the pumpkin originate, you have to look way past the pilgrims and even further back than the first Thanksgiving dinner.
It started in the dirt of Central America and Mexico. Roughly 7,500 to 9,000 years ago.
That is an absurdly long time. To put it in perspective, humans were domesticating pumpkins before they were even making wheel-thrown pottery. We’re talking about a plant that has seen civilizations rise, fall, and turn into museum exhibits. Archaeologists found some of the oldest pumpkin seeds in the Oaxaca Highlands of Mexico. These weren't the fat, orange giants we see at the grocery store today. They were small. They were bitter. They were, frankly, kind of gross by modern standards.
The Wild Ancestors of the Modern Gourd
The pumpkin we know—Cucurbita pepo—didn't start out as a pie ingredient. Early wild squashes were tough. They had thick skins and flesh that tasted like soap. Why? Because they needed to survive. Evolution isn't interested in making things delicious for humans; it's interested in not getting eaten by every passing rodent. Interestingly, scientists believe that giant prehistoric mammals, like mastodons and giant ground sloths, used to eat these wild gourds. The seeds would pass through their massive digestive tracts and get deposited in a fresh pile of fertilizer miles away.
When the giant mammals went extinct, the pumpkins almost did too.
Then humans stepped in. We realized that while the flesh was bitter, the seeds were packed with protein and fats. We started selecting for the plants that were slightly less bitter and slightly more fleshy. Over thousands of years, through what we now call traditional ecological knowledge, Indigenous peoples transformed a spindly, bitter weed into a staple crop. By the time European explorers showed up, pumpkins were growing all over North America, from the river valleys of the Mississippi to the high deserts of the Southwest.
Where Did the Pumpkin Originate and How Did It Travel?
It’s a misconception that "pumpkin" is a specific biological category. Scientifically, a pumpkin is just a squash that happens to be round and orange. But when we ask where did the pumpkin originate, we are really asking about the journey of the Cucurbita family.
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Indigenous tribes like the Wampanoag, Cherokee, and Iroquois didn't just grow pumpkins; they mastered them. They used the "Three Sisters" planting method. It’s a genius bit of agricultural engineering where corn, beans, and squash are grown together. The corn provides a ladder for the beans to climb. The beans fix nitrogen in the soil to feed the corn. And the squash? The squash grows big, broad leaves that shade the ground, keeping the soil moist and acting as a living mulch to prevent weeds.
It worked. It still works.
When Europeans arrived, they were confused. They’d never seen anything like it. Jacques Cartier, the French explorer, reported finding "gros melons" (large melons) in the St. Lawrence region in 1534. He didn't have a word for pumpkin yet. Nobody did. The word "pumpkin" actually comes from the Greek word pepon, which means "large melon." The French changed it to pompon, the English turned that into pumpion, and eventually, American colonists settled on pumpkin.
Survival Food of the Colonies
Life in the early American colonies was brutal. People died of hunger constantly. Pumpkins saved them. In the 1600s, pumpkins were the ultimate "prepper" food. They lasted all winter if you kept them dry. You could roast them, mash them, or grind the dried flesh into meal for bread.
There’s an old 17th-century poem from the Massachusetts Bay Colony that basically says if it weren't for pumpkins, they’d all be dead:
"For pottage and puddings and custards and pies, our pumpkins and parsnips are common supplies. We have pumpkins at morning and pumpkins at noon, if it were not for pumpkins we should be undone soon."
They even made beer out of them. Since barley and hops were hard to come by, colonists fermented a mash of pumpkin and maple syrup. It probably tasted terrible, but it was better than drinking contaminated well water.
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The Pie Evolution
The "pumpkin pie" we eat today is a relatively new invention. Early settlers didn't have ovens or pastry crusts. Instead, they’d slice off the top of a pumpkin, scoop out the seeds, fill the cavity with milk, honey, and spices, and then roast the whole thing in the ashes of a fire. It was more of a crustless custard than a pie.
It wasn't until 1796 that the first truly "American" cookbook, American Cookery by Amelia Simmons, published a recipe for "Pompkin Pudding" baked in a crust. That’s the moment the pumpkin shifted from a survival food of the poor to a nostalgic symbol of the American harvest.
Jack-o'-Lanterns: A Weird Irish Twist
Here is where the history gets a bit messy. While the pumpkin itself originated in the Americas, the tradition of carving them actually didn't. That started in Ireland and Scotland.
But they didn't use pumpkins. They used turnips.
The legend of "Stingy Jack" tells of a man who tricked the Devil and was cursed to wander the earth with only a hollowed-out turnip and a burning coal to light his way. When Irish immigrants moved to America in the 19th century, they found that pumpkins were much bigger and way easier to carve than turnips. Imagine trying to carve a face into a rock-hard root vegetable the size of a tennis ball. It’s a nightmare. The pumpkin was a massive upgrade.
The Modern Giant: Breeding for Size
Today, the quest for the origin of the pumpkin has been eclipsed by the quest for the largest pumpkin. This is a subculture of its own. In 2023, a grower named Travis Gienger set a world record with a pumpkin weighing 2,749 pounds.
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That’s heavier than a small car.
These giants are descendants of the Cucurbita maxima, a species that originated in South America (specifically Argentina and Uruguay), rather than the Cucurbita pepo varieties from Mexico. It shows how much humans have toyed with the genetics of this plant. We’ve turned a bitter, wild gourd into a massive, orange behemoth that exists solely for competition and photo ops.
Common Misconceptions About Pumpkin Origins
People often get confused about what counts as a pumpkin. Is a butternut squash a pumpkin? Is a zucchini a pumpkin?
- Taxonomy is a mess. Most pumpkins belong to Cucurbita pepo, but so do zucchini and yellow summer squash.
- The "Canned" Secret. Most of the "pumpkin" puree you buy in a can at the store isn't actually pumpkin. It’s usually Dickinson squash. It’s tan, oblong, and looks more like a watermelon than a pumpkin. But it tastes better and has a smoother texture, so the FDA allows it to be labeled as pumpkin.
- Not just for autumn. While we associate them with October, in many parts of the world, pumpkins are a year-round savory staple. In India, Australia, and Africa, they are used in curries and stews, not just sugary pies.
Why the Origins Matter Today
Knowing where did the pumpkin originate isn't just a trivia fact. It’s about biodiversity. As we rely more on just a few commercial varieties—like the Connecticut Field pumpkin for carving or the Libby’s Select for canning—we lose the genetic diversity of the thousands of heirloom varieties developed by Indigenous farmers.
Climate change is making farming harder. Pests are evolving. Having access to the original, hardy genetics of wild and heirloom squashes is what will allow us to breed plants that can survive heat waves and new diseases.
Actionable Steps for Pumpkin Enthusiasts
If you want to respect the history of this ancient fruit, don't just throw your jack-o'-lantern in the trash on November 1st.
- Compost it. Pumpkins are 90% water and full of nutrients. If they end up in a landfill, they create methane gas. If they end up in your garden, they create amazing soil.
- Save the seeds. If you buy an heirloom pumpkin (like a Jarrahdale or a Long Island Cheese), wash the seeds and dry them. You can plant them next year. You’re literally continuing a 9,000-year-old tradition of seed saving.
- Eat the "Real" Stuff. Try roasting a sugar pie pumpkin instead of buying the can. The flavor is deeper, more earthy, and less metallic.
- Support Indigenous Seed Sovereignty. Look into organizations like the Native American Food Sovereignty Alliance (NAFSA). They work to preserve the original seeds that were domesticated thousands of years ago in the Americas.
The pumpkin isn't just a decoration. It’s a survivor. It traveled from the stomachs of mastodons to the gardens of Oaxaca, through the starving winters of New England, and eventually to your front porch. It’s a piece of living history that we happen to carve faces into once a year. Understanding its journey makes that slice of pie taste a whole lot more significant.