Let Me Tell You About Pumpkin Burrata Baked Ziti

Alright, so—pumpkin in baked ziti might sound bonkers (or maybe just like my friend Jill at book club, who likes to add pumpkin to, I swear, everything)—but trust me on this one. First time I made it, my brother honestly thought I’d lost the plot; then he went back for thirds. It’s that kind of recipe: part comfort, part surprise, all sorts of creamy. Fun fact: I once dropped my phone in the sauce making this, but I promise, it’s not as messy as it sounds. Unless of course you really get into it—then all bets are off.

Why You’ll Love This (Or Why My Family Does, Anyway)

I make this when I’m craving cozy food but can’t face another red sauce pasta. My family pretty much loses their minds over it because (a) the sauce is like autumn in a pan and (b) melted burrata is, well, pure magic. Plus, it’s the rare dish my teenager doesn’t groan about. There’s this one bit where the cheese stretches for days and that just never gets old. Sometimes I use canned pumpkin, sometimes roasted fresh; neither has caused a mutiny so far. Once I tried using low-fat cheese to make it healthier—no one was fooled (or impressed). Lesson learned.

What You’ll Need (And What Might Work in a Pinch)

350g (about 12oz) ziti or penne—honestly, any short pasta does the trick. I once used rigatoni by accident (okay, twice), still delicious.
1 can (about 400g) pumpkin purée—not pumpkin pie filling! If you’re ambitious, roast your own pumpkin, but life’s short.
2 cloves garlic, minced (or a big squeeze from that jarred stuff, if you must—no judging)
1 small onion, diced pretty fine
1 cup heavy cream—but I’ve swapped in whole milk in a pinch. Don’t use skim, it’s like eating sadness.
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (optional but omg, I swear it brings the whole thing together)
1/2 teaspoon dried sage (fresh is great, but who remembers to buy it?)
Salt and black pepper, a good pinch of each (I just eyeball it most days)
2 cups grated mozzarella or a blend—my grandma only trusts Brand X but honestly, bargain cheese has gotten me through some tough weeks.
250g burrata (about 8oz)—torn into pieces. In a real pinch, just use some good fresh mozzarella, but you didn’t hear that from me.
1/2 cup grated parmesan (never pre-grated, she says with a shifty side-eye)
Olive oil, just a glug

How I Make Pumpkin Burrata Baked Ziti

Bake or boil your pasta just shy of al dente—like, a couple minutes less than the package says. It’ll finish cooking in the oven. (This is usually where I sneak a taste. For, uh, science.)
Meanwhile, splash a bit of olive oil in your biggest oven-safe skillet, Dutch oven, or even a deep roasting pan if your skillet’s full (speaking from repeated overflowing disasters here). Toss in onion, cook over medium heat for about 3-5 minutes till it looks see-through and you start doubting if it’ll ever brown.
Add garlic and sage to the onion, stir for a minute; if things go a little brown, that’s flavor, right?
Stir in the pumpkin purée, cream, nutmeg, and a solid pinch each of salt and pepper. Bring it up to a simmer—should be pretty creamy. If it looks weirdly thick, add a splash of pasta water. Or milk. Frankly anything but maple syrup.
Dump in drained pasta, give it all a really good mix so every wiggly tube is coated. Layer in half the mozzarella, all the parmesan, and gently fold in the torn burrata. If your dish is small and cheese is threatening to overflow, move things to a bigger tray. I always forget this until the very last minute.
Top with the rest of the mozzarella (and a pinch more parmesan if you like things cheesy—who doesn’t?).
Bake at 200°C (about 400°F) for 20-25 minutes, till top is gold and bubbly and there are some little crisp bits around the edges. Let it rest for maybe 8 minutes before scooping out—seriously, burns are no joke.

Some Notes That Saved Me At Least Once

If you forget to grease the pan, don’t panic; soaking is your friend. (Me, last Tuesday.)
Don’t try to add extra pumpkin thinking it’ll be more “pumpkiny” – it just gets gloopy.
I think this tastes even better the next day, but my family usually proves me wrong by inhaling it all the first night.

Variations I’ve Actually Tried (With Mixed Results)

Swapped half the pumpkin for mashed sweet potato once—nice, but a bit too sweet for my taste. Maybe if you’re a sweet-tooth.
Added crispy pancetta (delightful) or sautéed mushrooms (very autumnal, would recommend).
Tried goat cheese instead of burrata; weirdly tangy, not for me, but you do you.
Once, I tried wholewheat pasta for “health”… let’s just say it went over like a lead balloon.

Stuff You Might Need (But There’s Always a Workaround)

Big oven-safe frying pan or a Dutch oven (Otherwise, any deep casserole dish works — just mix the sauce and pasta in a regular pot and dump it in.)
A cheese grater (Or just crumble by hand if you can’t find yours, it’s fine—rustic is chic, right?)
Wooden spoon, because metal ones get too hot. I’ve melted more spatulas than I like to admit.

Keeping Leftovers—If You Get That Far

Store leftovers in an airtight box in the fridge—should keep fine for about 3 days, though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! I reheat in the oven (covered at first, then uncovered for the last few minutes), but microwaving in a pinch works too; just expect a little less bubbly joy.

What to Serve It With (The Dinner Table Rituals)

I usually plop some ziti on a plate with a simple salad—bitter leaves, balsamic, lots of black pepper. My cousin swears by garlic bread on the side (sometimes even in the pasta itself, but that’s a different story). A glass of red, feet up, TV on in the background: proper comfort food theater. Oh—someone always comes by to “just try a bite” and ends up eating more than their fair share.

Things I Wish I’d Known (My Pro-ish Tips)

Don’t rush the bake just to eat sooner—the cheese needs time to get those golden spots. I once tried using the broiler to speed things up, cheese burned, and dinner went from dream to disaster in 60 seconds.
If you don’t let it cool a bit before serving, every single portion will collapse into a molten mess. Which, to be fair, still tastes good, but it’s not winning any beauty contests.
And actually, I find it works better if I let the sauce cool for a few minutes before folding in the cheese. Otherwise, burrata can go a bit stringy. Learned that the hard way.

Questions I Get About This (And Real Answers!)

Can I make this ahead of time? Yep, and I actually do all the time. Assemble, cover, and pop it in the fridge. When you’re ready, bake it; just tack on about 5-10 more minutes if it’s coming form cold.

Is this super heavy? Kind of? But that’s sort of the point. Eat salad tomorrow, tonight’s for carbs and cheese. You could lighten it with milk instead of cream but, eh, it’s just not the same.

Can I freeze it? I’ve done it, works okay—though the cheese tops can go a little weirdly rubbery. Not a deal breaker, but fair warning.

No burrata, what now? Mozzarella totally works. Even a creamy ricotta can do the trick, in a pinch, but burrata wins for ultimate creaminess.

Could I add meat? Absolutely! Sausage, ground turkey, or leftover rotisserie chicken—I’ve done it all. Brown it up in the pan with the onions first, then carry on.

So that’s my slightly rambling, occasionally wayward, and always cozy pumpkin burrata baked ziti. If you find yourself humming along to the oven timer, I’ll take that as a win.

Pumpkin Burrata Baked Ziti