As far as cuisine was concerned, Francis was likely one of the more adventurous on Frye Island. Food was just about the only thing that could draw his attention past the water that surrounded them and out into the rest of the world. He wouldn't be able to explain where his interest in cooking had come from (his parents were the king and queen of takeout), but it was something that had developed quite early in his life. Francis was like that, though: once he decided upon a hobby, he more or less stuck with it over the long haul.
"Yeah, I usually bake them," Francis answered, as he glanced toward where Dietre had decided to linger. The kid was already making him nervous, which was decidedly annoying.
The water in the pot was near to boiling and Francis had only one pumpkin left to cut, so he didn't delay doing just that while Dietre decided he didn't know what to choose for dinner.
"Let's just do the easier one," he said in response. Pumpkin soup it was.
Once Francis was finished scooping out the last of the pumpkin seeds into a bowl, he grabbed another one from the cabinet and handed it right to Dietre without asking if he'd like to help or not. If the kid was going to hang around the kitchen, he might as well help.
"Fill that bowl with water and set it next to the seeds. Take a handful of seeds, put them in the water to wash them off, and then put them on a paper towel." Francis also supplied the double-thick paper towel square, placing it on the counter behind the pumpkin seed bowl. "Think you can handle that?" A four-year-old could do the job; he wasn't worried.
In the meantime, Francis went about blanching the halved pumpkins.