Tonight I learned some valuable lessons regarding kitchen magic and pumpkins. I'm back to tell the tale despite my horrific injuries and painful wounds because this is important information that just cannot wait.
As many of you know, I'm a ninja in the kitchen. I get crazy stupid in the kitchen. When people come to my apartment, and I'm giving them the tour, I point to the kitchen and say, "this is where the magic happens."
One of the many things I like to do is make something wonderful and then share it with my friends so they, too, can experience my awesomeness. This time of year my favorite ingredient to use is pumpkin.
Rant: There is some asshole with a couple of cooking shows on Cooking TV who refers to whatever food component he's doing that episode around as his "obedient ingredient." I fucking hate that phrase. I hate it! Every time he says it I want to bash him in the face with the blunt side of my meat cleaver while shouting, "Obey this! Obey this! You trendy hipster wannabe, I hope you get eye-gonorrhea from tainted clams squirting at you in disgust! Obey the back of my van!"
I've made pumpkin cookies, pumpkin pies, pumpkin cakes, pumpkin dump cakes, pumpkin pancakes and waffles. I'm like Bubba with pumpkins. One time I made some pumpkin-oat meal-chocolate chip cookies and brought them into work. People called them Crack Cookies because they couldn't stop eating them. I once made a pumpkin dump cake with an applesauce and cream cheese frosting that was so epic, people were begging me to make it again and again. A woman proposed to me and a dude asked me to join him in the men's room. It was scary.
A few weeks ago, I was given a pumpkin, and I knew instantly I was going to cook it and get the wonderful orange flesh out to make more pumpkin goodness. I had seen my mother do it when I was very young and it seemed like a simple enough plan. Cut it up, get the seeds out of the goop and guts in the middle, cut the pumpkin into chunks and bake it in a pan covered with foil.
Simple. Even I could do it.
The rest of the plan is where the Epic Pumpkin Attack took place. This thing wasn't going to give up the flesh all that easily.
First, I learned the hard way to never put hot pumpkin fresh out of the oven into a potato ricer. Because the pumpkin is so watery, what you end up getting is a squirt gun that shoots hot, sticky juice into your eyes, walls, floor, ceiling, and hair. Right from the beginning I was covered in it.
This did not deter me or cause me to re-examine what I was doing, or to see if there was a better way.
Nope!
I pressed on because my manliness was at stake. This pumpkin was mocking me and I wasn't about to let it win.
By the second chunk, I was sticking to everything, and my hair was running with the hot, sappy blood of a laughing pumpkin. This is when I realized why you always find pumpkin spice stuff but very little pumpkin stuff--like hair care products. Pumpkin sucks for hair care! If anybody advertises any sort of hair product that includes pumpkin, they are lying. I might as well have poured hot maple syrup in my hair.
This is when my Tourette's started to kick in and I found myself cursing in a high-pitched squeal as hot pumpkin juice ran down my face and into my eyes. I saw the world though pumpkin-colored glasses.
What did that look like? The walls melted, black rats crawled on the ceiling, my furniture began to dance to some funky 70's music like they were on Soul Train, people ran past my window with their heads on fire. The fire wasn't really fire, it was a living creature, like a raccoon, and it was pulling at their flesh as it burned off their faces. One of the fire coons looked over at me and saw I was looking at him. I quickly turned around and got back to work before he got any ideas.
I now have a bowl of the juiciest pumpkin you'll ever taste. This isn't good because now I have to cook more of the moisture out, which means more dealing with this pumpkin puree, and that scares me.
Eventually, I will return to making pumpkin dishes and sharing it with people, but if you are one of those people you should consider having sex with me. Seriously. I got burned and tormented so badly I'll be having nightmares tonight for sure. I am permanently scarred over here. And I think throwing me a piece is a perfectly acceptable trade for a slice of what most certainly will be the best thing you've put in your mouth in a long time.
As many of you know, I'm a ninja in the kitchen. I get crazy stupid in the kitchen. When people come to my apartment, and I'm giving them the tour, I point to the kitchen and say, "this is where the magic happens."
One of the many things I like to do is make something wonderful and then share it with my friends so they, too, can experience my awesomeness. This time of year my favorite ingredient to use is pumpkin.
Rant: There is some asshole with a couple of cooking shows on Cooking TV who refers to whatever food component he's doing that episode around as his "obedient ingredient." I fucking hate that phrase. I hate it! Every time he says it I want to bash him in the face with the blunt side of my meat cleaver while shouting, "Obey this! Obey this! You trendy hipster wannabe, I hope you get eye-gonorrhea from tainted clams squirting at you in disgust! Obey the back of my van!"
I've made pumpkin cookies, pumpkin pies, pumpkin cakes, pumpkin dump cakes, pumpkin pancakes and waffles. I'm like Bubba with pumpkins. One time I made some pumpkin-oat meal-chocolate chip cookies and brought them into work. People called them Crack Cookies because they couldn't stop eating them. I once made a pumpkin dump cake with an applesauce and cream cheese frosting that was so epic, people were begging me to make it again and again. A woman proposed to me and a dude asked me to join him in the men's room. It was scary.
A few weeks ago, I was given a pumpkin, and I knew instantly I was going to cook it and get the wonderful orange flesh out to make more pumpkin goodness. I had seen my mother do it when I was very young and it seemed like a simple enough plan. Cut it up, get the seeds out of the goop and guts in the middle, cut the pumpkin into chunks and bake it in a pan covered with foil.
Simple. Even I could do it.
The rest of the plan is where the Epic Pumpkin Attack took place. This thing wasn't going to give up the flesh all that easily.
First, I learned the hard way to never put hot pumpkin fresh out of the oven into a potato ricer. Because the pumpkin is so watery, what you end up getting is a squirt gun that shoots hot, sticky juice into your eyes, walls, floor, ceiling, and hair. Right from the beginning I was covered in it.
This did not deter me or cause me to re-examine what I was doing, or to see if there was a better way.
Nope!
I pressed on because my manliness was at stake. This pumpkin was mocking me and I wasn't about to let it win.
By the second chunk, I was sticking to everything, and my hair was running with the hot, sappy blood of a laughing pumpkin. This is when I realized why you always find pumpkin spice stuff but very little pumpkin stuff--like hair care products. Pumpkin sucks for hair care! If anybody advertises any sort of hair product that includes pumpkin, they are lying. I might as well have poured hot maple syrup in my hair.
This is when my Tourette's started to kick in and I found myself cursing in a high-pitched squeal as hot pumpkin juice ran down my face and into my eyes. I saw the world though pumpkin-colored glasses.
What did that look like? The walls melted, black rats crawled on the ceiling, my furniture began to dance to some funky 70's music like they were on Soul Train, people ran past my window with their heads on fire. The fire wasn't really fire, it was a living creature, like a raccoon, and it was pulling at their flesh as it burned off their faces. One of the fire coons looked over at me and saw I was looking at him. I quickly turned around and got back to work before he got any ideas.
I now have a bowl of the juiciest pumpkin you'll ever taste. This isn't good because now I have to cook more of the moisture out, which means more dealing with this pumpkin puree, and that scares me.
Eventually, I will return to making pumpkin dishes and sharing it with people, but if you are one of those people you should consider having sex with me. Seriously. I got burned and tormented so badly I'll be having nightmares tonight for sure. I am permanently scarred over here. And I think throwing me a piece is a perfectly acceptable trade for a slice of what most certainly will be the best thing you've put in your mouth in a long time.
Hey, Ted. You guys have some seriously vicious pumpkins over there. May I recommend you wear something from the Kevlar range when next you do battle with them? Culinary begins with cull, and I'd rather it was the pumpkins and not you.
ReplyDeleteAwesome blogs, btw. :)
Thank you, my dear.
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