That's a Pumpkin (W)Rap: 99 Posts for All You Folks

Why... I hadn't even noticed.  But this post, is my 99th post. 

That's 99 (plus or minus) references to pumpkin.  Approximately 99 cups of pumpkin puree.  At least 99 hours that I've sat hunched over my computer, instead of the television (hey... we take the small victories... we can't all be gym goers).  And 99 times that I laughed... hoping at least 99 times, that I was able to make someone else laugh.  That's 99 times that I wondered what on earth I could possibly make, that might include a cup of pumpkin.  And 99 times that I wondered how long I could keep it up and still claim that I loved the orange stuff!

Well...

Surely, I can't go into my 100th post, with the same ol' schtick.  Besides, I think I'm dreaming a new... old... dream. 

And it's doubtful that it will include much pumpkin.

But I promise it will include much gnashing of teeth, hang wringing, and pearl clutching.  Does that help? Self inflicted poverty, huge risks, and a total vocational life change?  How about I promise that it will include LO-HA-HA-TS (I mean LOTS) of sugar?  Surely that helps!  (Again.  We can't all be gym goers.  I mean, think of the doctors... who would pay their salaries?)

So as I consider which way my life ought to turn... I'll pull up a few of my favorite pumpkin posts...

* I loved the Pumpkin Bread Pudding and it just really smacked of Fall.  You know, if you're in to that sort of thing...

* I could eat a Pumpkin Waffle everyday of my life, and be pretty happy about it. (If I've said it once, I'll say it 99 more times... having a gym membership, makes you cool?  Using it, does not.)

* The Pumpkin Toaster Strudels?  Why yes.  I will have another. And maybe just one for the road.

* And I really loved the Pumpkin Tiramisu.

* A fan favorite (Hi Dad!) was the Pumpkin Butter. GREAT on fresh biscuits, poured on ice cream, used with your waffles and pancakes... or you could do the conventional thing... and make toast.  Whatever.

* And if you're tired of the sugar crashes that come with knowing me...try the Pumpkin Focaccia Bread.  This was probably the most original recipe in the bunch and if I do say so myself, one of the best.

But quite possibly, my shining moment... that time when I really stood up and taught you all a little something about myself and the art of the pumpkin puree... was the Pumpkin Puree Rap.  I know.  It brings a tear to my eye as well.... I'll wait while you get a tissue.  Of course, I am still waiting for JayZ to give me some credit on that one... look for it on his album coming out this Fall... him and Beyonce do a duet, that is just to die for.

And really... I'm grateful for the Pumpkin Patch in Scottsdale, Arizona (back in 2003)... that started it all.  And a sweet, curious, puppy-Wyatt to warm any cold hearts out there. 

Here's to 99 more moments of curiosity, 99 opportunities filled with hope, and 99 new dreams...

Sunday Morning: Carrot Cake Jam

We don't have children. But we do have two dogs that act like children.

Scratch that.  We have two dogs that are treated like children.

Sunday morning was "Interceptor Day!"  It sounds fancy, doesn't it?  Like there should be fireworks and congressional lapel pins, but really, it's just the day that my dogs get their heartworm medicine.  And I suppose if you'd like to fashion a congressional lapel pin based on heartworms, well, be my guest.  But I prefer to celebrate, by typing the monthly task into my online computer calendar that way...with caps and an exclamation point.  Interceptor Day!  Makes me feel excited about something. (sad face)

We are a bonified pet pharmacy in our house. Boy Dog has quite a few issues... a few of which we medicate for, three times a day, with the helpful use of hotdogs.  You stick the pill in a chunk of cheap hotdog and Boy Dog will swallow it whole.  And even though there's not a single thing wrong with Girl Dog, she of course, must have a hot dog as well.  This is reminiscent of grandparents, who give the older child a gift, "so they don't feel left out," when the younger child has a birthday. (Ugh. I won't get on my soapbox.)

So, back to Sunday morning.  Interceptor Day!

The morning started out as it normally does, with me, groggily standing at the top of the stairs... it's a sight to be seen.  All this 'aint a pretty picture in the morning... but the dogs don't seem to mind, and normally, they eagerly greet me on the stairs for their morning gooby-boooby-boo session.  Uh, yea... that's puppy talk.  Anyway.

This morning, they were mysteriously absent.

Covering the living room and moving towards the coffee pot in record speed, due to the absence of my canine speed bumps, something caught my eye.

It was the wrapper, from a stick of butter, which had been left on the table from dinner the night before.  Just an empty wrapper... which means one of the dogs, had just eaten a stick of butter.

Coffee in hand and still missing the normal company of my dogs... I headed to the basement... to find Boy Dog eating a roll of paper towels.  I suppose you need something to wipe the butter grease off your mouth, right? 

Now, I have to say... up until this point... I've kept my cool. I find the emergency vet's phone number... I calmly explain that one of my dogs has eaten a roll of paper towels for breakfast... and one or the other, has topped it off with a stick of butter.  "Need I be concerned?" I ask.  Friendly Vet-Tech says, "oh no, don't worry about it... you just might have a few rough days ahead of you." Joy.

I hang up the phone.  I give the dogs a dirty look.  I give God thanks that a roll of paper towels and a stick of butter did not cost me a few hundred dollars with aforementioned Friendly Vet-Tech... and I remember that it is Interceptor Day! Yeah!

Grabbing hot dogs and pills, I pop the tiny Interceptor pills into their respective hotdogs, and present our eager, albeit stopped up dogs with their medicated treats.  Boy Dog, per his usual behavior, swallows his whole.  Girl Dog, sensing that there is something amis... something has been SNUCK into her normally "pure" hotdog... must investigate.  Taking it carefully in her mouth, she moves to the living room... well, this is NOT my first time on the ferriswheel, and being the gifted and talented dog-mother that I am, I anticipate this move... so I squarely position myself between Girl Dog, Hot Dog... and Boy Dog.  Sternly, I look the drooling mess of a Boy Dog in the eye and say, "Don't even think about it."

He looks at me... sizes up the opening between my legs... looks back at me... and begins to lunge forward... "NO!"  I have stopped him in his tracks.

Yeah.  That's right.  Who's top dog?

He looks at me again... sizes ME up... thinks it through... refers to his Dog Manual... calls his buddy in Arizona who concurs... and decides that the benefits of having another hotdog, FAR outweigh the repercussions.

Dropping my hand to the floor to retrieve the hotdog... I miss it by seconds... and before I can say "Bad Dog" it had slipped down the proverbial hatch.  Now Boy Dog has had two heartworm pills.

And I sort of lost it. 

WYYYYYAAAAATT!!!!!!!

Mother's grabbed their playing children out of the driveways and ushered them inside.  Birds retreated to the safety of the skies.  Dogs ceased their barking.  And the neighborhood cats... laughed.

For maybe the third time in nearly 8 years... Wyatt had made me mad.  And he knew it.  No sooner had I turned around, Boy Dog was making his way out to the garage with his tail tucked and head down.

And I dialed the emergency vet's number... again.

The conversation went something like this:

"Hi!  I called a few minutes ago about the dog that ate the stick of butter and the roll of paper towels.  Yeah... well, I'm pretty sure I just overdosed that same dog.  Please don't call animal control."

By the end of the conversation, Friendly Vet-Tech assured me he would not die, but would merely experience an upset tummy and (my absolute favorite), possibly some "loose stool."

Hanging up the phone, I realized I still needed to get Abby her Interceptor pill. Stuffing it in a hotdog and offering it to her, I was failing miserably... so, I resorted to the ol', crank-her-mouth-open-and-stuff-it-down-her-throat trick.

Two times.  Three times.  Four times... each one, followed by the dramatics of dry heaving and gagging noises.  Trying one more time, I found her jaw... completely locked.  Like Fort Knox.  She was NOT going to take that pill.

Finally, dejected, despondent, and nearly on the verge of tears...and not one to be above theatrics... I crumpled to the floor, barely squeaking out, "Abby.  I just can't do it anymore.  You win.  You all win."  And I sat there, with my arms crossed.  Holding in my hand, a hot dog with the "back up" pill stuffed inside...

Within a few minutes, I watch as Girl Dog belly-crawled over to me... head down, eyes averted... and stuck her sweet nose in to the crook of my elbow.  All but crawling into my lap, she waited... waited for me to forgive her, waited for words of reassurance, waited for a single touch, that showed her that it was all better. 

And after a few minutes... convinced that I wasn't going to throw her out of the pack... she lifted her head, and turned to my other hand, where the hotdog was still clenched.

Nuzzling open my hand, she gently took the hot dog... and with great intentionality, chewed... and swallowed.

Some things just aren't worth the fight.

So on this cool, almost Fall-like day, don't fight it... make this jam.  It'll make me happy... and as you can see... I need a little happiness in my life!

 

What you'll need:
1 1/2 Cups finely grated (and peeled) carrots
1 1/2 Cups finely diced peeled and cored tart apples, such as granny smith
1 3/4 Cups canned crushed pineapple, including juice
3 Tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
3/4 Teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 Teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 Cup raisins
One (1.75-ounce) package powdered fruit pectin

6 1/2 Cups granulated sugar

1/2 Teaspoon butter

1/2 Cup finely chopped walnuts

If you are going to preserve this jam, you'll want to prepare everything as you normally would... boil the jars, warm the lids and rings, etc.

Combine carrots, apples, pineapple, lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves in large, heavy saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to simmer, cover, and cook 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Meanwhile, pulse raisins in food processor until finely chopped. That way, all you raisin haters won't be able to tell they're in there! Whooo-ha-ha-ha.  That was my evil laugh.  Set aside.

After 20 minutes, remove the pot from heat and stir in pectin until dissolved. Stir in raisins, breaking up clumps with back of spoon. Return pot to heat and bring to boil. Add sugar all at once. Die a little bit inside, when you see 6 and 1/2 cups of sugar go into something you will be serving your friends and family, and return to a boil, stirring constantly. Add butter and boil hard for one minute. Remove pot from heat, skim off any foam if you want (though I usually skip this step), and stir in walnuts.

Ladle hot jam into hot sterilized jars, leaving 1/4-inch headspace. Wipe rims of the jars, cover with lids, and screw bands on until just barely tight. Place jars on rack in pot and cover completely with water. Cover pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Boil for 10 minutes. Turn off heat, uncover pot, and allow jars to rest in water for five minutes. Remove jars from pot and allow them to sit undisturbed on the countertop for six hours or overnight.

I wish I had been the one to create this recipe... because it is GENIUS!  But alas, I found it at seriouseats.com days ago... you know, when there was snow on the ground and I was foolishly searching for recipes that would convince me that Spring was on its way...  It's sweet. Sticky.  I sort of wish it had more carrots in it (literally, never thought I would say that).  And has six and half cups of sugar in it.  But it's totally worth a try... and the sugar crash that follows.

Please enjoy and... by the way, Boy Dog and I have made up.

Not A Low-fat Food: White Chocolate Pumpkin Cups

One Lent, maybe a year or two ago, I decided to "give up" sugar.

When Protestants give something up for Lent, it always sort of feels like Paris Hilton, putting out a hip-hop cd, where she raps about the hardship of livin' her gangsta life. Or Donald Trump telling me he "understands." Or Sarah Palin running for President.  Or, for that matter, Donald Trump running for President.  (Um, Canada? You got room for one more?)

In other words... a tiny bit disingenuous.

But I was living in an Anglican world at the time, and it felt like the thing to do.

So I gave up sugar. For six weeks. Minus Feast Days. And not a day more.

During my time in this sugar free world, like any good addict, I found myself needing a fix... and thus, I was drawn to Sugar Free Candy.

The interesting thing about sugar free products, is that they are almost always prominently labeled with a statement that reads, "Not a Low-Fat Food." I found this curious.  I'm generally not a package reader beyond a quick glance to see how many ingredients are listed. I know what's good for me... and if I know something is not, I prefer to live in ignorance.  But this bold statement had me stcratchin' my noggin, and I decided to investigate.

I mean, is the package bragging?  Confessing?  Trying to stir up controversy? Wanting it's own reality t.v. show?  Who knew?

Except... it was none of those things. 

This sugar free candy... a presumably healthy option, if only by virtue of being made with one less ingredient that 60% of all American's are addicted too... is holy-smokes-I-went-up-a-pant-size-full-of-fat!!!

We're not talking a gram or two of "fat differential" here... more like 10-20 GRAMS!

Apparently, when you take the sweet goodness of white sugar and corn syrup out of something... you must plump it up (What? No pun intended.) with fat so that it will satiate in a similar sugar-induced-coma sort of way.

So, needless to say, by Easter Sunday I was ready to celebrate our Risen Lord and Saviour with chocolate bunnies and handfuls of jelly beans.  If only so I could button my blouses again.

So here's a little something to get you through the long Lenten days... and I promise, it's totally packed with fat and sugar.

What you'll need:

White chocolate chips or bark (I use Ghirardelli)
Mini (2 inch) foil muffin liners
2 Oz. cream cheese, at room temperature
1/4 Cup pumpkin puree
1 Teaspoon cinnamon
1 Teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 Cup powdered sugar
1 Cup finely ground graham cracker crumbs (a food processor works best here)

Recipe adapted from What Megan's Making.

Line a small muffin tin with 12 mini muffin paper liners. Throw this in the freezer.

Melt the chocolate in increments in the microwave. Make sure not to overheat.  White chocolate can scorch pretty quickly, if not watched.

Pull out your cooled muffin tin, and using a small spoon, paint the melted chocolate all over the insides of your mini foil muffin liners.  Allow chocolate cups to harden completely by placing muffin tin back in the fridge or freezer while you do the next bit.

In a medium bowl, combine the cream cheese, puree, spices, and vanilla and mix until smooth. Mix in the powdered sugar until smooth, then stir in the graham cracker crumbs. Spoon the pumpkin mixture into your hardened chocolate cups and smooth the top to create an even surface.  There's a lot of smoothness going on here.

Re-melt the remaining chocolate if needed and top off your filled cups, smoothing the tops and making sure the chocolate reaches all the way to the edges in order to seal the goodness in. Chill in the fridge until set, about 1-2 hours.

(Not recommended for dogs.  Though they might try to convince you otherwise).

Totally genuine.  And not lookin' for it's own reality t.v. show.  Which means, it might be the only thing in the world, not looking for a reality show.

Fear and Loving on a Monday

My girl-dog's got some fear in her tonight. Last night a car backfired somewhere in Australia, and Abby stammered around for three hours, just sure that the world was ending. And then this morning, heaven help us all, it's stormy -- like thunder, lightening, potential for hail, kind of stormy -- and this really throws Abby for a loop. Looking for a place to hide, she climbed into the shower as I was opening the door to get in there myself...and she refused to get out! Awww man, was she ever mad when I turned that cold water on! I only wish I had had my camera in order to document the look of pure disdain on her little, puppy face!

So as I left for work, I drugged her up... Abby on drugs is brutal. She can't find her feet for the first two or three hours so all you can hear, is her falling up the steps or tripping over the dog bed as she paces around the house. My guess is, right now, she's riding out the storm in Brett's closet.













Fear is funny... it's controlling and manipulative and plays weird tricks on your brain. Fear keeps you stranded in a sea of "what-ifs" and "buts" and it weighs you down, so you trip over your own feet in an attempt to "just keep moving."

I can't help but wonder what "fear" is doing to the people of Haiti. Brett tells of children, who won't sleep inside, under their new roof, for fear of it collapsing... crying, despising, shivering, fear. He tells of hopeful parents, waiting for adoptions to come through... breathing, weeping, pacing, fear. He tells of patients waiting in clinic rooms... wondering, thinking, considering, fear.

I imagine the fear a mother feels, each time she sends her child to school and turns to comfort another, whose child did not come home that day... grateful, ashamed, survival, fear. I imagine fathers and brothers and husbands who fear letting their families starve, as they continue to struggle with abject poverty... shameful, tiresome, anxious, fear. I imagine church leaders trying to bring comfort to a torn flock, tearing at their own clothes from grief... grace-filled, sorrowful, sacrificial, fear.

I realize my fears are different. Privileged, white, middle-class, fear.

I guess we all have fears... safety of those we love, money, security, weather. Even the basics, like dark alleys and strangers with guns (apparently, I'm part of a 1940's film noir). Some even fear God. I'm not one of those.

At least not most days.

Sunday Confessional

I owe my dog, Wyatt, a public apology. The other night, when I was accusing him of political volleying at 1:45 in the morning, he was actually looking out for me. While someone was taking a baseball bat to the mailboxes in our neighborhood -- including ours (though just barely, as you can see in the photo), he and the neighbor dog were trying to tell the vandal to, "stay the who-who away from my house buddy, cause I'll lick the pores off your face." And he would too. He'd lick those pores, clean off. Unless the vandal happened to bring a miniature poodle with him... or was wearing a funny hat... or roller skates. All these things really work Wyatt into a lather. Anyway, I'm sorry Wyatt.

I should probably apologize to my Mother as well. No card. No dinner or present or box of chocolates. No visit. Just a phone call, in the parking lot of Sam's. See, I'm simply proving my theory, that children aren't all they're cracked up to be. Seriously sorry, Mom. (And in no way, am I insinuating that you are a hippo. Really. I just think they're cute.)

And while I'm on a roll... I might as well apologize to my husband too. He's embarrassed by the snippets of emails that I posted on Saturday. When he's writing these emails, he's under a bit of pressure... one computer for 30 residents...which usually makes for quite a bit of toe-tapping going on behind him. And apparently this pressure makes it impossible to use spell check. That's a joke, by the way. Seriously, I understand. And I'm sorry. (If you were wondering, this is my sincere "I'm sorry" face. I'm lookin' a little rough around the edges... eyebrows all askew, hair on frizz patrol... What can I say? Been a long day of confessin' sins and savin' souls.)

Day 23: Pumpkin Pup Treats

I'm a sucker for my dogs.

I'm not a dog-in-the-purse sort of dog girl (though if you were to meet me, I so closely resemble Paris Hilton, you'd be confused... I trust, much like Paris Hilton is, most of the time)... but I am a go-ahead-and-run-amuck-in-my-house-cause-I-love-you-so-much kind of dog girl. And so these dogs, do just that.

Meet Wyatt and Abby.














Wyatt -- that one on the right -- LOVES produce. Carrots, broccoli (oh how that boy loves broccoli... oddly enough though, not a huge fan of the Bush family?), bananas, apples, celery, and PUMPKIN. Many weeks ago, when I was cooking and gutting thousands of pumpkins... he was my trusty sidekick. Pacing by the oven as batch after batch after batch was cooked perfectly in it's water bath, sitting on my feet as I scraped away (*starry eyes*), licking up spills before they even hit the floor...

This is the life of a dog. Taxing.

So, given their lot in life, I decided to make some dog treats for the kid-o's... and they are eaaaaasy peeeeeasy!

What you'll need:

2 1/2 Cups whole wheat flour (some dogs have allergies to wheat products; consider this a disclaimer)
1/4 Cup Corn meal
2 Eggs
1 Cup pumpkin puree
2 Tablespoons peanut butter (doesn't need to be exact)
1/4 Teaspoon salt (leave this out if you're using a peanut butter that's high in salt, which most pre-packaged jars, are)
1/2 Teaspoon ground cinnamon

Pre heat your oven to 350* and lightly flour your counter (for easy rolling purposes later). Throw all the ingredients into your mixer and let it do all the work. When it has the consistency of pie crust dough, roll it out on your counter top to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut into desired shapes and bake for about 30-40 minutes depending on the size and thickness or until they've hardened on the edges.













Wyatt's eye-view.













Abby's eye-view!

It appears Abby and Wyatt would give these an A+! To be fair though, my girl dog also eats (what we call) poopcicles* with winter-regularity, and the boy dog has his morning hankering for (used) kleenex. Please keep this in mind, when trying to understand the result of my very scientific and complicated, grading system.

Regardless, hug a dogs neck today... it's proven to reduce blood pressure. You'll feel better for it!

* I don't know why some people think dogs are gross? Weird.