Danny really seems to be enjoying colouring his first pumpkin (that he can remember). You should have seen me lugging this thing (the pumpkin, not the kid-he can walk) into the store. They must have had a camera on me and announced "Cripple in the pumpkin patch, assistance at the front of the store" as there was someone waiting to carry it as we made our way inside. Why they can't stock them in the produce department (where there are carts) is beyond me-under the circumstances, I selected the smallest one I could find.
These aren't suitable for baking-for that you'll want small sugar pumpkins, but fear not-my little guy will have his pie yet. It's still pretty early for pumpkins in this part of the country. Worst case scenario, we use (shhh) tinned pumpkin.
My pumpkin pies are different every year. I've made them as sweets, as savouries and some in-between. As my husband dislikes custard-type pies, I tend to go for heavy, not-so-gelatinous type pies. I have no idea what we'll do this year, but I know for certain, it will not be coming from this particular pumpkin.
I suppose we ought to name it, eh? My sister used to name our Thanksgiving turkeys (the only once I recall clearly was "Orson" which was, for a pretty humourless girl, impressively funny).
I just know this thing is going to end up in his room tonight.
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