Fall is my favorite and, I think, a nearly perfect season. (Apart from all the allergens. And wasps - hate wasps). There are apples to be picked, Halloween trick-or-treating to look forward to, and the weather is usually pleasant. It is before the frigid snow dump that awaits us.
Our trip to Goebbert's Pumpkin Farm highlighted the joys to be had: pony rides, petting exotic animals, watching pig races (!) and browsing a big barn filled with autumnal delicacies. We indulged in some pumpkins and a gourd, although I could easily have filled a cart with apple cider, apple fritter donuts, kettle corn, and various jams and jellies.
While the pumpkins await carving on the kitchen counter, my daughter is insistent that I use them to make pumpkin pie. Never mind that she hasn't eaten much, if any, of it in her young life. She wants a pumpkin pie, darn it, and wants it today. NOW. She is aware I'm going to cooking school, and seems to think I can pull it off. (Is she not aware that cooking is an art, and baking a science?). Well, by God, I just might attempt to make one; if only to stop her incessant nagging. I might cheat a bit with a store-bought crust. But why not find a recipe and roll up my sleeves? 'Tis the season, after all.
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