Yellow Pumpkin Frame (Pumpkin Cake)

I was first introduced to pumpkin pie when I was 19 years old. I was an international student at the University of Washington in Seattle, celebrating my very first Thanksgiving. Although I was no stranger to eating pumpkin—I’d eaten Chinese savory pumpkin cake and kue talam, a traditional Indonesian sweet snack made with rice flour and coconut milk—I’d never had it in a pie. Did I like it? Sorry pumpkin pie–lovers; I must admit, I didn’t.

Honestly, the filling was soft and mushy in a way I wasn’t used to, and the combination of pumpkin and spices didn’t sit quite right on my tongue. It may have been a bad pumpkin pie, but years after I graduated, the aversion still hadn’t waned.

My disdain for pumpkin pie was inconsequential—hello, apple pie!—until I met and married my husband. My dear husband believes that Thanksgiving is not Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie. To try and appease him, I went on a hunt for a comparable substitute. I tried making pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin strudel and even pumpkin mousse. But none of them got a unanimous thumbs-up.

Then, I discovered a new-to-me Indonesian cake called bingka labu kuning, or pumpkin cake. Wondering why I’d never had it before and hoping my mum would have a recipe, I asked her about it. She said simply, “No recipe. I don’t like pumpkin.” Fair enough.

That didn’t stop me of course. Buoyed by my delight at the opportunity to infuse a little of my own Indonesian culture into a quintessential American holiday, I turned to the internet. A versatile cake, bingka’s core ingredient can comprise assorted root vegetables, from cassava to sweet potato and, yes, pumpkin. Once baked, it has a firm outer skin and a rich, custardy filling—almost like a pie-in-one. It was the perfect pumpkin pie stand-in!

Celebrating Thanksgiving with bingka also has cultural significance. In Banjarmasin, a city in the South Kalimantan province on the island of Borneo, bingka is one of many traditional cakes served at religious and cultural celebrations. The cake is also a must-have during selamatan, which are occasions for gathering with family and friends to give thanks, much like how we celebrate Thanksgiving in the U.S. These special events include weddings, births and also gatherings during the holy fasting month of Ramadan.

During Ramadan, traditional Banjar cakes like bingka are big business. The cakes come in all shapes, flavors and colors. Bingka batter is poured into flower-shaped molds locals call kembang goyang, and some shops can sell more than 1,000 single-serve cakes per day. As I scoured recipes online, I discovered that bingka molds may be regional to Kalimantan. I found many, many recipes, most baked in a square or round tin. The recipes were similar, made with pumpkin, coconut milk and just enough sugar to sweeten the dessert, but not so sweet, just the way I like it.

I was eager to make a bingka labu kuning that was all my own. The first thing I did was adopt a foolproof method using a blender. Instead of grating or mashing the pumpkin into a puree, I can just add it to the blender jug and give it a whirl. Plus, it skips the creaming step and finicky egg additions, and the sugar is evenly distributed while introducing a little air to create a stable emulsion quickly. I don’t add flour to the blender, though, because you don’t want to overmix it and have too much gluten form.

My pumpkin of choice for this cake has always been kabocha. These Japanese pumpkins (and other varieties like kuri) have a perfect-for-me taste and texture—a little sweet and smooth with not too stringy flesh. While I found hardly any bingka recipes perfumed with spices, I decided to give the pumpkin-and-spice combination another try. I landed on spices often used in a spekkoek, a cake that was developed during the Dutch East Indies. Spekkoek, which translates to bacon cake because of all the layers, is the Dutch name for kue lapis legit, Indonesia’s famous thousand-layer cake. In addition to the layers, another defining characteristic is the blend of spices used: nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves, sometimes cardamom. I decided to add these spices to my version of bingka.

The final product was a resounding success: it was easy to make, chock-full of pumpkin flavor and warm with spices familiar to everyone. Some years, my husband, ever the traditionalist, still insists on making pumpkin pie, but I’m not offended. I’m just thrilled to share a part of my culture during this very important holiday.