Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving, I know it's not traditionally a kiwi festivity but I think it's is something we should see more off here. There’s something nice about people coming together for a meal without the lure of gifts. Although traditionally held on the last Thursday of November, friends of ours held thanksgiving last night. I was drafted to make the pumpkin pies.

Pumpkin pie is quite a marvelous thing. In a former incarnation I used to work in a test kitchen dealing with the American market – I became very familiar with Pumpkin pie. I find this odd but as far as I can see, Pumpkin does not feature in America outside of Halloween and pumpkin pie. Pumpkin is purchased in a can. Spooky.

Naturally I do not have the benefit/handicap of tinned pumpkin puree – I have to do it the old fashioned way. Now I’m not the tallest or strongest of people and Pumpkin seems to present issues for me – I seem to get about halfway through with the knife – knife won’t go in, knife won’t go out. I throw a tantrum. Knife does not respond to verbal threats and still won’t go in or out. Lift knife up use brute force (not very brut though) slamming pumpkin down onto board. Pumpkin releases grip in mid air and somersaults gently across the room. Queue swearing.

Fortunately I had the Husband on hand and naturally he dealt to it with the proverbial ease of a hot knife through butter and the smugness of the cat who got the cream. Men. Would rather live without them but would die of starvation from not being able to open jars.

The actual pumpkin pie recipe I used is from Baking Illustrated – a book by those nice people at cooks illustrated. If you haven’t heard of cooks illustrated it’s an interesting concept. They cook each recipe multiple times altering quantities of ingredients, cooking times, temperature, types of ingredients, methods and so on – hoping to arrive at the perfect whatever – in this case pumpkin pie.

This theory appeals to me , I am first and foremost a scientist and one qualified in food, but I have to take issue with the premise. When it comes to food I don’t think there is a “perfect” way to do anything, no one right way that everyone prefers. Take chips for example – people always go on about the perfect chip, golden on the outside, fluffy in the middle. While I’ll be damned if sometimes I don’t actually like my chips a little soggy. So there.

Anyway – back on topic again. The pumpkin pie turned out fine – I was a little quick off the mark taking it out of the oven the first time round and had to put it back in to set properly. A pumpkin pie doesn’t take like pumpkin in the way that carrot cake doesn’t taste like carrots. I suppose if you imagined pumpkin soup crossed with custard with a lot of mixed spice you’d probably be close.

The only flaw in my plan was the transportation. The party was to be held in Scene one, in town. Not usually a problem except that there was something on at Vector Arena. Parking was in somewhat short supply so we had to park a little further afield than usual. I’ll leave you with the final image of the night – me trekking down Fort St on a Saturday night with two Pumpkin pies in hand.

Zzzzzzzzzz

By god I’m tired. The sort of tired that comes from not sleeping properly over multiple nights. I have started to look at soft furnishings in a longing kind of way. Perhaps it’s these balmy Auckland nights we’ve been having, it starts to feel like you're sleeping in a sealed plastic bag some nights.

We had an interesting conversation the other day about what you do to help you fall asleep and I’d be interested to know if anyone else has an unusual example. I’ve heard a couple of good ones – one friend I know imagines that she’s going to open a B&B and itemizes all the fixtures and fittings she’s going to need. Another friend mentally rearranges the furniture in other people’s houses. A third imagines themselves falling off a cliff – I can’t entirely work out how that is peaceful and calming but apparently it works.

I count sheep. That is not entirely accurate. I don’t so much count the sheep as describe them to myself in great detail – colour, height, proportions, size, sometimes they get names… They jump over fences but it’s fair to say that they are not always successful – sometimes it takes them a few times to get over. Don’t worry, no sheep are harmed in the process of my dreaming.
Sometimes we don’t realize quite how odd we are until we say things like this out loud.

To take full advantage of the balmy weather we will no doubt be having a BBQ. Man’s territory apparently although I always seem to be called in to watch the onions or inspect the steak. There comes a certain meat and three veg monotony to the Barbie after a few days, perhaps I need to think it through a little more and branch out. Or just do a rain dance and pray for stirfry.

Not that I couldn’t just stirfry if I wanted to of course – I’m fairly sure it’s not illegal to cook inside on a sunny evening – it’s just that the house is like an oven. The temperature gauge is usually edging towards 30 by the time we get up.

It’s moments like that I’m glad I’m not doing the Edmonds anymore! I have vivid memories of making strawberry jam in the height of summer last year, almost passing out with the heat of it. That’s just what I need, face down in the pan of hot jam much better than a mini peel for the complexion I’m sure.

I keep writing odd, meandering sentences and then deleting them. Sleep deprivation I think. I’ve already saved you from a reflection on where the strawberry sellers magically appear from and a summary of my jam stocks which I have no idea of how to get rid of. I might just have a wee lie down and see if dinner cooks itself

Welcome to Dances with Kumara

Hi everyone (or should I say, both of you).

Appears I couldn’t stop the blogging. I went cold turkey for a whole three days but the detox was too much for me. Let’s all ignore the fact that I managed to skip whole weeks on the Edmonds project without any issues of conscience or constitution.

Before you ask what this blog is about, it’s not about anything. There is no “project”. I REPEAT – NO PROJECT. I always found that the stuff I enjoyed writing was not so much the technical ins and outs of the textural appeal of Nun’s Toast but more inflicting my random thoughts on others, or going off topic as I used to refer to it.

But, no longer. Off topic is now on topic. Let it begin.

Love
Debbie

P.s. There is no significance to the Dances with Kumara thing. It’s not code, it’s not a clever metaphor for life, and if you play it backwards it doesn’t have a secret hidden meaning. Hope that’s not too disappointing.