Last Pumpkin Standing

Tomorrow is December 1st, which means several things: 1) My rent is due. 2) It's the first night of Hanukkah and 3) It's the day when our favorite autumnal fruit (or is it a vegetable?) officially gets the heave-ho. Suddenly, we're too cool for pumpkin bisque, pumpkin pie, pumpkin muffins and pumpkin pancakes. Citrus steps into the spotlight. You start tossing clementines in your kids' lunch bags and shoving halved grapefruits under the broiler. Before you know it you're serving pomegranate margaritas on New Year's.

I spotted these good-lookin' gourds at a farmstand in late October.

And invited this pretty pumpkin to come home with me to adorn my table throughout November.

And yet, as I pulled out the ornaments and twinkly lights yesterday, I knew it was time to retire my festive fall centerpiece. I admit, I had misgivings about slicing into this guy. I imagine it's the way farmers feel about raising a turkey or chicken before it becomes their family's dinner. Or maybe I'm just sappy and melodramatic.

But ultimately, it was the right thing to do. I made a popular Afghani dish called Pumpkin Kadu Bouranee, which is a really delicious vegetarian meal. It's basically stir-fried pumpkin mixed with a sweet tomato and ginger sauce and a dollop of yogurt or sour cream on top. I served it over basmati rice with cinnamon and toasted almonds and some whole wheat naan on the side. 

Pip, pip dear pumpkin. You had one helluva season.

Butternut Squash Lasagna

I still can't get over the fact that Thanksgiving is next week. How'd that happen, anyway? Seems like one day you're trying to keep a Fudgesicle from dripping down your chin and the next week you're elbow-deep in pumpkin guts. For the last few years, I've celebrated Thanksgiving with my boyfriend's family here in Queens, where a few things can be counted on as yearly traditions. 1) There will be at least 20 people there, (2) at least two out of the seven children will lose a tooth or stain an article of clothing, and (3) lasagna will be served as the first course. I'd bet the farm on it, if I had one.

You might be wondering if I plan on fixing Butternut Squash Lasagna for this year's gathering. What are you, crazy?  Serving traditional meat and ricotta lasagna is their family tradition, and you don't mess with another family's tradition. Plus, I'm not in the business of fixing what ain't broken. Vin's mom makes kick-ass lasagna. 

But so does my girl Giada, and consequently, me. If you're absolutely certain you won't be stepping on anyone's traditional toes, I'd recommend sitting this square in the center of your Thanksgiving table.

1. Roast peeled, cubed butternut squash with olive oil, salt and pepper.

2. Whip up a deliciously delectable bechamel sauce. 

3. Pulse basil in a food processor and stir it into the bechamel. The squash also gets a whirl in the processor with a few amaretti cookies for a touch of sweetness.

4. Begin constructing the lasagna in layers. Toss shredded mozzarella and grated parmesan between the layers of the basil bechamel and the pureed squash.

There's a real nice mix of textures and flavors in this baby.

I may be the only blogger in history to photograph two-day old leftovers, but I assure you this tasted better than it looked. Plus, everybody knows that Thanksgiving is really all about the leftovers anyway.

Autumn in the Northeast: Fun with Food

Know when I realized I was getting old? When I discovered that I get more excited about shopping for housewares than shoes or handbags. It was right around the time I started throwing dinner parties for couples and stopped chatting up strangers in bars. I began swapping recipes with friends instead of party clothes. These days, I spend leisure time reading cookbooks and actually enjoy trips to the grocery store. And now, I find myself pulling off the side of the road to take pictures of fruits and vegetables. Good Lord, what's become of my youth?

Nice stems, huh?

I am drawn like a moth to a flame.

Good gourd--these are awesome!

Caption Contest! (I can't think of anything pithy to write here. You give it a whirl! There is no prize involved. Only glory. And by glory, I mean I'll give you a shout-out in the comments section.)

I can hardly shelve my excitement.

An apple a day keeps the bigger pant size away.

Buckets of fun.

Everything my brother said was true. I really am corny.

Chicken Schnitzel with Endive & Bosc Pear

Every culture has a fancy name for the ultra-simple breaded chicken cutlet. In Japan, it's chicken katsu. Texans get down with the chicken fried steak  (my thigh's arch nemesis). But Germany, hands down, came up with the name that's the most fun to say...Schnitzel! 

On its own, schnitzel can be pretty heavy, but this recipe includes a lovely salad of fall fruit, endive and radish mixed with a lemon-shallot vinaigrette. I took liberties with this recipe and swapped out the apple for pear and eliminated the frisee lettuce because my store was out. I am such a rule-breaker. But only when it comes to food. Other than that, I'm pretty much a goody-goody.

I lurve bosc pears. They are so crisp and light.

Remind me to tell you the story someday about another type of chicken cutlet, a bridesmaid dress, and a dance floor. I'm still recovering from "the incident".

I served it alongside some winter squash that I roasted with maple syrup sprinkled with chipolte powder. It sucked; don't make it. But do make the schnitzel. Then say it three times fast and giggle a lot. 

Autumn in the Northeast: Into the Woods

I wore a plaid blouse yesterday. I matched it with a pleated skirt and thick tights and soft suede boots. It was the kind of outfit October was designed for, the kind I always wanted to wear on the first day of school but didn't because it was still sundress weather. I grew up in coastal Texas, where seasonal changes are marked more by holiday wreaths than dramatic shifts in temperature and fall foliage equates to a spinach salad. Autumn was a mythical period I'd seen in a few movies, a brief but magical time when bulbous orange fruits and piles of brittle, multi-hued leaves blanket the ground and the chilly air smells faintly of apple pie cooling on a windowsill.

I had to see this for myself. So I ran away from home, into the woods of the northeast. 

Everything I'd heard was true. 

The leaves came in every color of the sunset, and clung tight to the long bent arms of the strong, narrow trees.

Some of them couldn't hold on anymore, so they loosened their grips and drifted slowly to the ground.

I kicked the toe of my boot through the piles of fallen leaves and watched them rise and fall like confetti.

 I had finally experienced this mysterious season called autumn. And it was golden.

Butternut Squash Ravioli

The first time I tried butternut squash, it was a defrosted puree version from a freezer-burned paper box.
Needless to say, I wasn't blown away by the muted orange mush that came out of it. I knew there had to be more to this popular winter vegetable than its amusing phallic shape.

Fresh butternut squash has since become one of my all-time favorite veggies. Most of the time I serve it with sage or rosemary as a side dish, blend it for soups or swirl it into a creamy risotto. Then I discovered Giada's recipe for homemade butternut squash tortellini. God bless you, you unbearably skinny Italian beauty.

Savvy readers will notice that my version looks nothing like tortellini, but more like ravioli. Cut me some slack. I'm not Italian.

Dice a butternut squash into 1-inch pieces, then coat with olive oil, salt and pepper and herbs and roast for 30 minutes. In a skillet, saute shallots and garlic in a little olive oil.

Once the squash is roasted, blend it in a food processor with 1 cup of ricotta cheese and the sauteed onions.

Don't hate on my 1962 food processor. Vintage is in.

Throw in four crushed amaretti cookies. Don't question this seemingly odd ingredient; more dinners should include cookies. Blend squash, ricotta, and cookies till smooth.

Now for the labor-intensive part. Using wonton wrappers, roll up the filling into cute little 

packages. The recipe calls for a different shape altogether, but I found that folding them in half and crimping the edges to be easiest. Use a pastry brush dipped in water to seal the edges.

Right before boiling the ravioli, whip up a brown butter sauce. A little nutmeg, a little sage, salt and pepper. To finish, I threw in walnuts for crunch and currants for a touch of sweetness. 

Boil for four minutes. They're ready when they float to the top.

Victory is mine! I was expecting them to burst in the water and 

send squash flying all over my stockpot. 

Grate some parmesan over the top to serve. Mangia bellas!

Pumpkin Spice Latte

They say if you really love something, you've got to let it go, and if it comes back it's yours forever.  I don't know who 'they' are, and I don't care. All I know is that fall is here, the pumpkin spice latte is back, and the birds sing my name every time my hot little hand curls itself around one of those venti vessels of joy.

 I've got competition though, because I know you love it too.

And why wouldn't you? This thing is crazy delicious and makes one daydream about traipsing around a pumpkin patch on a cool autumn day wearing tweeds and cordouroy in rich, earthy colors with fancy autumnal names like rust, maize and aubergine. 

Another thing I've heard about love is that it don't cost a thing, but I guess J. Lo wasn't singing about frothy, season-inspired coffee drinks cause I'm out five bucks every time I duck out of work to pick up my delicious hot date. I found a recipe online that comes pretty close to the popular coffee shop version, and will be enjoying my favorite fall beverage long after the last leaf has been shaken from the tree.

Pumpkin Spice Latte (originally featured on www.thekitchn.com)

2 cups milk (I used soy milk)
2 tablespoons canned pumpkin OR 1 teaspoon of Torani Pumpkin Spice Syrup (your choice)
2 tablespoons sugar or sugar substitute - you can halve this amount
2 tablespoons vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
1-2 shots espresso (about 1/4 cup of espresso or 1/2 cup of strong brewed coffee if you don't have an espresso machine.)

In a saucepan combine milk, pumpkin and sugar and cook on medium heat, stirring, until steaming. Remove from heat, stir in vanilla and spice, transfer to a blender and process for 15 seconds until foamy. If you don't have a blender, don't worry about it - just whisk the mixture really well with a wire whisk. Pour into a large mug or two mugs. Add the espresso on top. Makes 1 or 2 servings.

Just had to pass the recipe along. Love must be shared.