Bearing gifts

It's quiet here. Ben is fast asleep. DH is in Anchorage. Whenever he goes out of town, I have a little problem with insomnia. At any rate, there is no one around to raise an eyebrow when I start pulling out pots and pans at 10pm. Tomorrow we're headed to Bainbridge to visit a friend with two boys under two who just moved into a new house. She's a lawyer, and goes into the office in Seattle one day a week. She and I met on the ferry, which I think about sums up our relationship. She was my first real friend here, and our weekly meet-ups brought an instant sense of steady cruising amid a very turbulent transition period, adjusting to a new life in a new place with our newish 3-month-old. I sometimes have a hard time getting excited about change. I just felt DH's eyebrow go up, all the way from Alaska. Ok, so maybe it's more often than sometimes. I'm a July baby; home and environment have a large impact on my daily outlook.

Anyway, what started out as a plan to take lunch over to the new place and help her unpack/watch her boys has somehow morphed into a session of applesauce prep and canning. Apparently, she practically has an orchard growing in the front yard. I'm giddy at the thought of getting involved with all that chunky goodness, not to mention the catching up we'll be able to do over those wafts of cinnamon and earthy fruit. Afterwards, Ben and I will head over to check in with my employers at their home office. They're such a lovely couple, with an even lovelier dwelling. They have chickens! And a pond! In their yard! Big enough for a wee rowboat (which their kids still use once in a while)! As I haven't exactly hit my numbers this month, I'll show up bearing gifts. Courtesy of The Happiest Belly on the Block's blogroll, I found a recipe for pumpkin fudge that sounded autumnally (ok, not a word, but hey) spicy and perfect for adding a little sweetness to both of our visits. I will say that it would probably work better to use a dutch oven (or something around 5-qt size) than the medium saucepan that the recipe calls for. I kind of ran out of room towards the end. I don't have pumpkin pie spice, so I just cobbled together some spices from the pantry—cloves, ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg. Also, if you have sensitive hands, you might consider wearing an oven mitt while stirring the boiling concoction. It jumped and splattered like excited bacon grease onto my hands quite a few times. Oh, and I toasted the pecans, but I'm sure that skipping this step wouldn't make or break anything, nor would forgetting the nuts altogether. It's the sort of treat that—as my grandma would have said—will give you a toothache just thinking about it, but I can't wait to slice into it tomorrow.

 

There's a pan of creamy, golden parmesan-roasted squash cooling on the counter alongside that pumpkin fudge. My lawyer friend and her family are vegetarians, and I know I should have made something healthier, but this sounded warm and comforting; easy to transport on the ferry and throw in the oven while we go about our saucing. And, oh, it's meant to be a side dish, but I'm making it into a main. The smell of it roasting tonight affirmed my decision. I'm bringing some arugula and a pear to have alongside, so that offsets the richness a bit, doesn't it?

It's late and it's dark, so I'm sorry to say that pix are a lost cause. If I can, I'll add a few onto the post tomorrow morning before we head to the island.