It is impressive, I think, when someone can choose a melon or a pumpkin by a sniff or a shake. This ability usually involves nerve, too: the confidence to pick something up and examine it from all sides, and a skin thick enough not to be concerned by stallholders, supermarket managers or signs saying “Do not touch”. I don’t have any of the above, so I’m often disappointed by melons and pumpkins. I told my friend Alice this recently and she revealed her technique while we were shopping at Monteverde market. She often asks stallholders to cut melons, pumpkins or squashes open, promising that she will buy even if it’s furry or flavourless, but in the knowledge it’s a dud. And, of course, the cutter is then in a corner. This, too, requires nerves and skin as thick as the knobbly, grey-green pumpkin I stood holding in a shop the other day. Shaking it didn’t tell me much and I didn’t ask, of course. Fortunately, it wasn’t a dud. Nor was it particularly brilliant; despite being a zucca marina di Chioggia, which are usually reliable things, with dense, orange flesh that is first and foremost savoury, with a sweetness that comes after. If only I’d had more nerve, or gone to another shop. Other pumpkin varieties to look out for are squat, dark-green kabocha, which has dry, starchy flesh with a butter and chestnut flavour and just a touch of sweetness; pale green-blue crown prince, which looks like someone has sat on it, and has dense flesh that reminds one of swede and sweet potato; red, green and white-striped turban squash, which indeed does look like a pumpkin wearing a turban, and has gentle flesh like butternut squash. Roasting makes good pumpkin great, average pumpkin better, and might save a dud if you give it enough olive oil or butter and salt. So that is what I did, to go with beans and greens cooked in much the same spirit as a cassoulet – that is, slowly and with seasoning, until they are soft and well-flavoured and surrounded by starchy bean broth. Like classic cassoulet, the beauty of this dish is the soft, almost fudge-like beans with a slight crust on top. If you are serving soon after making them and the dish is still very hot, then a few minutes under the grill should do it. If time has lapsed and it has cooled down, return the dish to the oven at 180C (160C fan)/350F/gas 4 for 15-20 minutes, or until it is heated through and the parmesan is bubbling. Contrast is good, so serve with green salad, more cheese and perfectly ripe pears, if you have the ability and nerve to pick them. Pumpkin, beans, greens and cheese Soak 8 hr + Prep 15 min Cook 75 min Serves 4 300g white beans, soaked in cold water for 8 hours, then drained 2 garlic cloves, peeled 1 sprig sage, plus a few extra leaves to serve Salt and black pepper Olive oil 300g kale or greens, cut into rough ribbons 1 small pumpkin or butternut squash (roughly 400g) 4 tbsp grated parmesan Put the soaked beans in a heavy-based pan and add enough cold water to cover by at least 5cm. Add the garlic, sage sprig, a good pinch of salt and two tablespoons of olive oil. Bring to the boil and reduce to a simmer for 75 minutes, or until the beans are tender. In the last 10 minutes of cooking, add the greens. Meanwhile, cut the pumpkin or squash into 2cm wedges, removing the seeds and also the skin, if you wish. Rub with olive and salt, then bake at 200C (180C fan)/390F/gas 6 for 20 minutes, or until soft and golden. Use a slotted spoon to lift the beans into a large dish, adding just enough liquid to give them a soft, stew consistency. Arrange the pumpkin slices and a few more sage leaves among the beans, top the whole thing with a swirl of olive oil and parmesan. If the dish is still very hot, a few minutes under the grill should be enough to give it a bit of a crust. If time has lapsed and it is cool, reheat in the oven at 180C (160C fan)/350F/gas 4 for 15-20 minutes, or until the cheese bubbles.