Taunting My Mother
The pumpkin that will become the gargantuan pie is currently in the oven roasting it's little heart out.
De-gutting pumpkins for Halloween is fun, part of the experience. The guts are ooky, icky, Halloweeny type things. De-gutting pumpkins for Thanksgiving pie has to be one of the ickier kitchen actvities out there. At least there's a gargantuan pie and roasted seeds to be won out of the deal.
The taunting my mother bit is the fact that I'm roasting the pumpkin to make the pie. Mom's pies always came straight out of the can. And her whipped cream was of the aerosol variety. Mom tried to make whipped cream once, but it turned into butter. She shares this story every year when I'm whipping the cream for the pie on Thanksgiving.
But as much as I tease and taunt my Mom about her cooking, I think it was, in part, my family that gave me my love of cooking. My teen years were tumultuous ones, and the family was more spread apart than brought together. But we pretty much always had dinner together, with no TV. It may not have been a fancy dinner, but it was nutritious and, with the exception of the one time she made liver and served it under dim lights to fool us that it might be tasty, was tasty, too. Sometimes it was very quiet, brooding, and tense, but at least we had that time together.
And Thursday so it shall be again. The brother has been going through a tough time lately, so it might be of the tense variety, but we'll be sitting there eating, and for at least a short while everything will be good in my world as I'm shoveling Mom's stuffing into my face as fast as I can.
De-gutting pumpkins for Halloween is fun, part of the experience. The guts are ooky, icky, Halloweeny type things. De-gutting pumpkins for Thanksgiving pie has to be one of the ickier kitchen actvities out there. At least there's a gargantuan pie and roasted seeds to be won out of the deal.
The taunting my mother bit is the fact that I'm roasting the pumpkin to make the pie. Mom's pies always came straight out of the can. And her whipped cream was of the aerosol variety. Mom tried to make whipped cream once, but it turned into butter. She shares this story every year when I'm whipping the cream for the pie on Thanksgiving.
But as much as I tease and taunt my Mom about her cooking, I think it was, in part, my family that gave me my love of cooking. My teen years were tumultuous ones, and the family was more spread apart than brought together. But we pretty much always had dinner together, with no TV. It may not have been a fancy dinner, but it was nutritious and, with the exception of the one time she made liver and served it under dim lights to fool us that it might be tasty, was tasty, too. Sometimes it was very quiet, brooding, and tense, but at least we had that time together.
And Thursday so it shall be again. The brother has been going through a tough time lately, so it might be of the tense variety, but we'll be sitting there eating, and for at least a short while everything will be good in my world as I'm shoveling Mom's stuffing into my face as fast as I can.
posted by Swankette at 8:29 PM
1 Comments:
I don't know your whipped cream recipe, but I recommend powdered sugar instead of granulated. It really makes a softer finished product. (A little cinnimon and nutmeg are good, too.)
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