Bye Bye, Pumpkin Pie

November 12, 2013


So we're in that suspended-time transitional phase of the holiday season. Done with the giddy, chocolate-covered optimism of Halloween but not yet smacked down by mile 19 of the peppermint-scented Chrismahanakwanzaka marathon.

And by the way, before I’m ready to move on, may I just vent for a moment? I need to say that Halloween was made way more strenuous than it should be by the Skinderella/Skankerbell conundrum. The wholesome Tinkerbell costumes were all in tiny toddler sizes. Anything that fit La Principessa transformed her into a cocktail waitress at the Bellagio. Not so good for a tween. So instead I was forced to tack bunches of emerald tulle onto a tutu and add wings so I could then trudge behind her with the loot bag. Vent over.

While the costume crisis was averted, I am still relieved to be gliding into the short-lived but gentler orbit of Thanksgiving. Or maybe I'm just looking forward to the end of pumpkin. Pumpkin. Spice. Everything.



I really do look forward to the pumpkin patch all year long but we need to get a grip. Pumpkin pie spice has invaded everything from the Yankee Candle Migraine Center to coffee creamer. Pumkin spice Hershey's?  Pumpkin margarine?  Stop the insanity. Please, everybody, just say no to the nutmeg.In a last ditch attempt to get us to pitch the pumpkin, here’s a recipe – that may get you to go off the gourd for awhile.

. country crock

Pumpkin Dread Pudding, courtesy of Gourd Housekeeping.

  1. Tear one baguette into large chunks – like huge ones. Dump the chunks in a baking dish. You may need to blow said chunks when you’re done.
  2. Combine 2 cups milk, 3 eggs and 2 tablespoon of pumpkin pie spice. (Or two teaspoons each of cinnamon, nutmeg, ground clove, cloven hooves, allspice, and Old Spice.) Pour over the chunks of bread. Let it soak in real good so the bread is completely and revoltingly soggy with pockets of unincorporated egg snot. Just wait.
  3. Open all 3 mother-loving cans of pumpkin. Recoil in horror. Then splort all of it over the really wet bread. You may need to blow your chunks at this point. You definitely will after you mix the whole thing up, with your hands, into a slurping, sodden, pile of sienna-colored slop.
  4. Bake at 250 degrees for about 5 minutes. This probably won’t even heat it through so it won’t remotely resemble bread pudding or custard. Or actually be safe to eat.
  5. Melt the white chocolate in a double boiler. Drizzle immediately over the top of the not yet steaming – one might say, teeming – bread pool.

Ready for some gingerbread??


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