About a month ago, in a fit of seasonal optimism, I made a pumpkin bread that tasted exactly like what it was: pumpkin bread. Perfectly nice, perfectly one-note — all cinnamon and sugar and nostalgia.

“This is a pumpkin service announcement.” That’s what my grandmother used to say before she began whipping up the batter for her famous coffee-can pumpkin bread. It was her polite and quirky way of ...