I like baking. But it is low on the priority list, so I don't do it as often as I'd like. Maybe I need to move it up. (It gives me a chance to wear an apron.)
The cub scouts needed some volunteers to bring in fall-ish refreshments for the pack meeting this week. Yessss, a perfect excuse to make the quintessential embodiment of fall deliciousness: pumpkin muffins. The kind whose smell is sensory-hardwired to crisp air, cardigans, blindingly bright colored leaves, and the anticipation of the fourth quarter holidays. The kind I don't believe I've gone a single one of my 31 autumns without. The kind I always thought were totally healthy when I was growing up because you know--"pumpkin." I remember still the first time I made them in married life and realized why they are oh-so-delicious. It's because they're not healthy. At all. The first ingredient? 4 1/2 cups of sugar. (Worth it.)
Later that night, after Ben advanced to Bear (hooray!), I
helped mostly watched Scott make his famous salsa. Mmmm. Have you ever had it? My favorite thing about making this salsa (or just being in the same room while it's being made) is the way each ingredient smells like heaven while it's being diced. Cilantro, tomatoes, pineapple...wave after wave of olfactory bliss.
One of the perks of Scott's job is that he brings home the Food Network magazine all the time. Typically I don't get too excited about dinner. The part I hate is just deciding what to have. Same-old-thing-itis. But when I'm making something new/fancy it bring more joy into dinner prep. Three of this weeks meals were from the good pages of FNM, and each one was a hit. I photographed this grilled chicken (which went on a pizza) because it overpowered me with deliciousness.
Then. This morning I was cutting up a butternut squash to go in a slow-cooker soup. Starting dinner at 8:30am was atypical. And wonderful. The open window brought a perfect cold breeze and fresh feeling. It also brought in a bright beam of sunlight from the still-rising sun. While in the middle of my task, I was distracted by the brilliance of that sunbeam hitting the saturated yellow-orange of the squash's flesh. Laugh, if you must, at me for taking a hundred photos of a squash. I couldn't help it. I can't wait till dinner.