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Pumpkin Bagels — The Test Batch You Make to Prove You Are Ready

Early November. The Thanksgiving planning begins and this year I am doing something different: I am teaching the Thanksgiving cooking class. Not at the apartment — at a community kitchen space in Southeast Portland, rented for the evening, open to the public, fifteen spots, forty-five dollars per person, the topic: "A Japanese-American Thanksgiving." The class will teach my miso-butter turkey, kabocha nimono, and the delicata squash with pecans. The class is the first time I have taught cooking to strangers (as opposed to friends at the dinner table), and the first time I have charged money for the teaching, and the charging-money-for-the-teaching is the professional transition I have been approaching for a year, the way a ship approaches harbor: slowly, from a long way out.

The class filled in two days. Two days. Fifteen spots, gone. The demand was both flattering and terrifying — flattering because people want to learn what I know, terrifying because what I know is what Fumiko knew, and teaching Fumiko's knowledge for money feels like charging for an inheritance, like monetizing a dead woman's love. My therapist said: "Fumiko would want her food to be taught. Teaching is not selling. Teaching is extending." The distinction matters. Teaching is extending the chain. Teaching is adding links. The links are the students. The students will go home and make miso-butter turkey and the turkey will be Fumiko's principle (miso transforms) applied to an American bird by a stranger who learned it from a woman who learned it from a dead woman who learned it in a country none of them have visited. The chain extends. The chain does not charge. The teaching does.

I made a test batch of the miso-butter turkey for the class — the full recipe, from brining to roasting, with notes for the students. The turkey was excellent. The notes were clear. The teaching will be good. The nervousness will also be good, because the nervousness means it matters, and the mattering is the practice, and — there is the word again. The word that holds everything. The word that is the practice.

While the miso-butter turkey was the centerpiece of the class, the days leading up to it were full of smaller test batches — things I made to keep my hands busy and my confidence steady. These pumpkin bagels were one of them: a fall project that asked for patience and precision, two things I needed to practice before standing in front of fifteen strangers. There is something grounding about shaping dough, about the boil-before-bake method that commits you to the process, and in that way they felt like the right thing to make when I was nervous and the nervousness meant it mattered.

Pumpkin Bagels

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 30 minutes (includes rise time) | Servings: 8 bagels

Ingredients

  • 1 packet (2 1/4 tsp) active dry yeast
  • 3/4 cup warm water (about 110°F)
  • 1 tbsp honey or maple syrup
  • 3/4 cup pure pumpkin puree (not pie filling)
  • 1 tsp fine sea salt
  • 1 tsp ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
  • 1/4 tsp ground ginger
  • 1/4 tsp ground cloves
  • 3 1/2 to 4 cups bread flour, plus more for dusting
  • 1 tbsp vegetable oil (for the bowl)
  • For the water bath: 2 quarts water + 1 tbsp honey or baking soda
  • Optional topping: flaky salt, sesame seeds, or a cinnamon-sugar blend

Instructions

  1. Activate the yeast. Combine warm water, honey, and yeast in a large bowl. Stir gently and let sit 5 to 10 minutes until foamy and fragrant.
  2. Mix the dough. Add the pumpkin puree, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cloves to the yeast mixture and stir to combine. Add flour one cup at a time, mixing until a shaggy dough forms. Turn onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8 to 10 minutes until the dough is smooth, firm, and only slightly tacky. It should hold its shape without spreading.
  3. First rise. Lightly oil the bowl, return the dough, and cover with a damp towel or plastic wrap. Let rise in a warm spot for 45 to 60 minutes, until roughly doubled in size.
  4. Shape the bagels. Punch down the dough and divide into 8 equal portions (about 3 1/2 oz each). Roll each portion into a smooth ball, then press your thumb through the center and gently stretch the hole to about 2 inches wide — it will shrink back slightly during proofing. Place shaped bagels on two parchment-lined baking sheets.
  5. Rest. Cover loosely and let rest 15 minutes while you preheat the oven to 425°F and bring the water bath to a boil.
  6. Boil. Add honey (or baking soda) to the boiling water. Working in batches of 2 to 3, gently lower bagels into the water and boil 45 seconds per side. Remove with a slotted spoon and return to the parchment-lined sheets. Add toppings now if using.
  7. Bake. Bake at 425°F for 20 to 25 minutes, rotating pans halfway through, until the bagels are deep golden brown and sound hollow when tapped on the bottom. Cool on a wire rack at least 10 minutes before slicing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 245 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 49g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 295mg

Jen Nakamura
About the cook who shared this
Jen Nakamura
Week 387 of Jen’s 30-year story · Portland, Oregon
Jen is a forty-year-old yoga instructor and divorced mom in Portland who traded panic attacks for plants and never looked back. She's Japanese-American on her father's side — third-generation, with a family history that includes wartime internment and generational silence — and white on her mother's. Her cooking is plant-forward, intuitive, and deeply influenced by both her Japanese grandmother's techniques and the Pacific Northwest farmers market she visits every Saturday rain or shine. Which in Portland means mostly rain.

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