Ade was rooting around in the loft the other day when he noticed one of the pumpkins we’d stored up there was starting to go a little soft. He brought it down for me thinking we’d better use it up quickly.
It was one of the ‘Hundredweight’ variety, so there was an awful lot of pumpkin to cook up.
In the last week alone, I have made pumpkin pie, pumpkin risotto, pumpkin soup, pumpkin bread and a savoury pumpkin tart. Yesterday was the first time in eight days that I hadn’t eaten pumpkin in one form or another.
As much as I love them, I think I may have reached peak pumpkin; I’m not sure I can eat anymore (and we have so many left!) Consequently, I’m also convinced I’m radiating a rather nuclear glow about me just now.
Meanwhile, up at the plot, our Christmas dinner goodies are coming on a treat. We’re on target for cabbage, broccoli, swede, carrots, parsnips, onions and sprouts.
Last year we managed an entirely homegrown vegetable platter for our Christmas dinner, but this year’s potato crop was ruined by blight earlier in the autumn, so sadly, there’ll be no allotment spuds this year.
According to Icelandic tradition, at Christmas time, children receive gifts in their shoes if they’ve been good throughout the year and potatoes in their shoes if they’ve been naughty. What I wouldn’t give to wake up to a potato in my shoe on Christmas morning. Because if there are no potatoes to roast, well… I’ll let you guess what the substitute is likely to be…