God Damn It: Pumpkin Butter

-Sigh.-

So today - this day that I am writing this and not the day this post is going up - is one of those days. One of those days where a string of unfortunate events all seem to connect and painfully pull each other along like a anal beads out of a virgin butthole. Let us go over the last few hours:

1. Decide to make pumpkin butter.

2. Hack open pumpkin and begin processing it. Somehow completely forget that I am totally allergic to raw pumpkin flesh. Hands, understandably, begin to swell and burn. The skin on my palms begins to peel away as if I have been scourged with leprosy.

3. Wash hands thoroughly with plenty of soap and vinegar - which stings like a bitch when you don't have a lot of goddamn skin - to get the proteins and amino acids that are doing this to me off.

4. Now wearing latex gloves, I rub the pumpkin flesh with olive oil. Pumpkin roasts in the oven. Mini-migraine now sets in. Rest for a while.

5. Dog finds errants pumpkin seed. The dog, apparently, is not keen on pumpkins either and promptly throws it up along with the rest of his stomach contents onto the bathroom rug.

Moving: Maple Pumpkin Cake + Giveaway

-The only thing I could make amidst the chaos.-

New house. New house.

No, sadly, not my own house. Finances aren't that perfect. Yet. Fiancee and I are renting a house. Our first actually. It feels like we're moving up in the world a bit.

Since this crazy flood-slash-mold issue isn't getting resolved properly anytime soon and the (now ex) roommate is stuck in legal battles with the complex owners, Fiancee and I have decided to finally just cut bait from the whole thing and run.

And running, it seems, usually comes to be a good thing rental-wise. I seem to land in better and better places every time a disaster destroys the last one. When God closes the door in your old apartment (or burns it down, or floods it, or infects it with mold, or buries it under a roof collapse, or explodes it in the neighbor's meth lab explosion), a window in a much better property opens. Or so it seems to be for me.

Maybe I'm just jinxed when it comes to real estate?

-I know I'm not jinxed with maple syrup at least. (Image from The Federation of Quebec Maple Farmers.)-

Either way, the new place is bigger. Huge kitchen with more light than a glow stick factory, a gas range, and a new fridge. No dishwasher (ick) but washer and dryer (yay!). Yard big enough to have - dare I say? - a dog. Or better yet, a lemon tree?!

Unfortunately, the only problem with moving is the move. I frickin' hate it. And though with age comes the luxury of no longer relying on friends with trucks and finally being able to just hire movers everything still must be carefully sorted, boxed, labeled, hauled, unpacked, and reorganized and I just hate hate HATE it.

The back and forth from house to truck? Lord, I practically wilt at thought of it. I may have kitchen hands that proudly bear scars from peeling flats of plums with a pairing knife or boiling sugar, but damn if they aren't dainty things that simply detest carrying heavy loads.

The other thing I loathe besides all those boxes is that they have imprisoned within them the things I need. Particularly my kitchen; all of it properly wrapped in the daily paper and smartly stacked. A few exceptions exist: two plates, some forks, a large bowl, and a baking pan I found under the bathroom sink for whatever reason I can't figure out why.

Indifference (In Regards to Bread Pudding)

-Pumpkin bread pudding with shaved chocolate is definitely one of the better things in life.-

"... and later tonight I plan to make bread pudding."

"Oh," he said.

"What?" I replied, already depressed at the answer I knew was coming.

"Nothing. Just, you know, bread pudding," he said while shrugging his shoulders.

This was the general reaction I had received throughout the day. As I traded weekend plans with friends and co-workers I would eventually get to the part where I would say that part of my Saturday schedule was to bake up a thick n' custardy bread pudding. Mind you, not just any bread pudding, pumpkin bread pudding with shaved chocolate.

Normally, my cooking plans get a bit more reaction than a stone-faced, "Oh, bread pudding." People had more to say about the fact that I also planned to mop my floors, sympathizing with me over the labor of it or launching into a humorous anecdote which surprised me as mopping is the last thing I would suspect someone would have a humorous anecdote for.

This isn't to say the reaction was negative, but it wasn't exactly positive either. No one professing their adoration for custard soaked chunks of bread, studded with raisins and cinnamon. Not a peep about eating a plate of it cold for breakfast with a dollop of whipped cream. At the same time no one told me stories of how their grandmother piled mounds of bread mush so sickeningly sweet it was no wonder dad was diabetic.

*sigh* All I got was indifference.

And here's the thing about indifference. It is, in my opinion, worse than hate. If you hate something that means it at least preoccupies a place in your consciousness. You are willing to point out your dislike openly. It has enough presence to rate somewhere in your life. If you're indifferent to a person, place or thing then that means it's moot. It doesn't have the importance to even register.

Simply put, you don't give a crap one way or the other.

This seems like a cruel attitude to have towards something as rich and homey as bread pudding. Personally, I get a little bit excited over it. How many desserts require so little work? What else encourages you to use up extra stale bread, cream on the precipice of spoilage, or that lone egg that's just sitting around? How many desserts have such an aura of hospitality and whose simple components effuse such a charming comportment?

This bread pudding's use of pumpkin and spices make it reminiscent of your favorite pumpkin desserts (indeed, you may forgo your favorite pumpkin pie recipe in lieu of this). The shaved chocolate adds a bittersweet tinge to the dish that makes it all the more irresistible. Simple prep, a mere rendezvous in the kitchen, and this slightly stylish dessert is turned out. And, I promise, every response you get will be "Oh! Bread pudding!" said through the biggest of smiles.

-As tempted as you might be to lick chocolate off a rasp, don't.-

Pumpkin Bread Pudding
Adapted from Gourmet

1 cup heavy cream
3/4 cup canned solid-pack pumpkin
1/2 cup whole milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 large eggs plus 1 yolk
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
Pinch of ground cloves
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
2 tablespoons of shaved chocolate
5 cups cubed (1-inch) day-old baguette or crusty bread
3/4 stick unsalted butter, melted

1. Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle. Melt the butter.

2. Whisk together pumpkin, cream, milk, sugar, eggs, yolk, salt, spices, extract, and shaved chocolate in a bowl.

3. Toss bread cubes with butter in another bowl, then add pumpkin mixture and toss to coat. Transfer to an ungreased 8 or 9-inch square baking dish, shave with a little bit more chocolate if desired (who wouldn't?). Bake until custard is set, 25 to 30 minutes.

-If you're honestly indifferent to this then you must be a robot sent out to kill all humans. You monster.-