Mmm, fall. Delicious, delicious fall. Succulent, tasty, juicy fall.
Aaaaand we’re already creepy. I would say that’s a new record for this blog, but maybe not. I do creepy things all the time and then “forget” them later. It’s called “creepout amnesia.” Or, as the rest of you might call it, “a reasonable sense of shame.”
It’s officially fall, seeing as how I can no longer lay on the beach with those little wine juice boxes and a volleyball to give the impression that I’m sporty. Oh, it’s such a lark when someone walks up and asks if I’d like to play volleyball!
“AHAHA, ahaha, AHAHAHAHA, oh, PLAY volleyball, stop, STOP, really, you’re too much!…::sip::sip::”
So it’s no longer lay-on-the-beach-in-a-bikini-and-get-drunk-next-to-a-for-decoration-only-volleyball weather. Man, what a sad, sad sentence. But no one get too down about it. After all, it’s just about lay-in-the-back-of-an-SUV-in-jeans-and-The-Boy’s-jersey-next-to-a-for-decoration-only-football weather. Yes. To everything, there is a season. It’s the circle of life. A wheel of fortune, if you will. Turn, turn, turn.
So it’s getting chilly, and I’ve been gallivanting around doing all manner of fall-like things. Things like…
Using the last of the red tomatoes from the garden…
Preparing this delightful native dish that I’ve just learned about: soup…
Going apple picking…
Think we have enough apples for two people, The Boy?
You do? Oh, that’s nice. I think we need lots more.
Whaddya mean, you’re cutting me off?
Whaddya mean, you’re walking to the car?
Whaddya mean, you’re starting the car?
Whaddya mean, VROOM?
Oh. I think I’m starting to understand whatcha mean.
…and of course, as the lead photo would suggest, we’ve been gallivanting (yes, MORE gallivanting) through pumpkin fields. But only to look at them. In my world, field pumpkins, like volleyballs and footballs and modesty, are for decoration only. The flesh is scarce, stringy, watery, and not the least bit sweet. Now those cute lil’ two-pound pie pumpkins? THOSE are pumpkins. Adorable AND delicious.
So if you follow me on Twitter, you know that I spent yesterday roasting all kinds of squash and squash seeds, and I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t admit to a bit of a pumpkin obsession these days. Yesterday, I saved 79 pumpkin recipes on my desktop. True story. True story that I wish were even a little bit false. 78 would’ve sounded much better. Thank goodness it wasn’t 80. I mean, 79 is a lot, but 80 is just sick.
Ooh! Just found a recipe for pumpkin french toast! ::click::
And today, as you’d know if you followed me on Twitter (hint hint FUCKING hint), is The Boy’s birthday. That’s right, everybody’s favorite accidental sorta-celebrity was born ::mumble mumble:: years ago today. To celebrate, I decided to start his morning off right (the poor dude had to work!) with a pumpkin latte. YUM.
Now let me just be clear: The Boy does not NEED a pumpkin latte to feel good in the morning. How could he ever have a bad morning when he opens his eyes to the sight of me rolling over, my hair in the most conspicuous white girl afro you ever did see, my nightie twisted around me like a straightjacket, the pillows on the floor, and my eyes half open? How could he NOT have a great morning when my first words to him are usually something akin to “What the…f*&#…it’s not morning, right? THE BOY, tell me it’s not morning, tell me it’s not morning, IFYOUVALUEYOURLIFETELLMEIT’SNOTMORNING, oh God, it’s morning.” Also, a man needs to feel wanted and needed, right? And when I wrap my arms around his ankles as he’s trying to scale the stairs to the door and beg him not to leave me to work all by myself, I’m sure what he’s thinking is, “God, it’s so nice to feel needed.”
Just in case your mornings need perking up, UNLIKE THE BOY’S, you might want to try a pumpkin latte. It’s a heck of a lot nicer than the one from the coffee shops. And it’s made with a healthy dose of neurosis. I mean, love. Love.
1 shot of espresso (alternatively, probably about a 1/2 cup of really strong coffee)
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 Tablespoon raw sugar (I’m thinking maple syrup would be a delightful substitute)
1 cup milk (this works with soy milk, nut milk, whatever turns you on; I’m a lactard, almond milk it is)
3 hearty dashes cinnamon (can I recommend–again–the Saigon Cinnamon from The Spice House?)
1 pinch ginger
2 whole cloves
1 pinch nutmeg
2 Tablespoons pumpkin puree (you could use canned, but…you know)
whipped cream, if you’re feelin’ naughty
Start brewing your espresso or coffee. Meanwhile, toss all other ingredients except whipped cream into a saucepan and blend. Cook over low heat until the milk is just steaming (don’t boil it. Ew.). Now if you want your latte super smooth, remove the cloves with a spoon and put everything into the blender, set it to “milkshake” or its equivalent, and let that sucker blend ’til things are lookin’ frothy. If you’re not picky and your pumpkin puree was smooth, just take out the cloves. Now put your espresso into a mug, and pour the milk mixture over it. Top with whipped cream if you’re using it. Aw, what the hell, toss on another dash of cinnamon. Let’s go whole hog. Now doesn’t that sound like a nice way to start the day? I’m thinking decaf and a walk after dark on a chilly, crisp day would suit me just fine, how ’bout you?