Of all of God's vegetable creations, the pumpkin has to be one of His yummiest. This semi-annual blogger is a fan of all things pumpkin: pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin bread, pumpkin soup (especially at the German restaurant Fünfschilling in Fischingen), pumpkin cake, pumpkin spice lattes, and pumpkin Coffee Mate.
Hmm. Is that really how you spell pumpkin?
I have now discovered baked oatmeal here in ex-pat land, and today I turned it into pumpkin baked oatmeal. :) (This dish, by the way, is already very popular in the northeastern region of our beloved homeland, but it's a relative first for this southern girl.)
Enjoy!
Suzanne's Pumpkin Baked Oatmeal Recipe
serves 6 - 8
3/4 c. brown sugar
4 c. oats
1 t. salt
1 t. baking powder
1 1/2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ginger
1/2 t. ground clove
1/4 c. pumpkin puree
1/4 c. oil
2 eggs
1 1/2 c. milk
1 1/2 t. vanilla
Mix dry and wet ingredients separately. Combine and pour into a 9" x 13" pan. Bake at 350 F or 180 C for 20-25 minutes until set. Serve warm with milk on top. Yum..... :)
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Bite-Size Senses
"Your office smells good."
I get that a lot, and I am very proud of it. These smells bring distinction, yea even honor, to my humble place of work. So burn on, Gingerbread. Burn on, French Vanilla. I will not stop you.
This week has been bite-size. I've trimmed my nails and kept the living room picked up. I had an afternoon with a roommate and worked 10 minutes a day on a music festival program. There were 15 minutes with my Bible this morning, and I'll spend 50 minutes with a sick colleague's theory class today. It's not that this list really sets apart this week from any other - with the exception of the nail trimming. Maybe it's that I find myself this week recognizing a longing for more.
The long, the enduring, the deep, the satisfying. This week, I want lasagna, not another sandwich. I want Schubert sonatas rather than Chopin Mazurkas. I want Paul Simon, black coffee, and corduroy. I want transparent streets of gold and the absence of shadow.
I want to pour out again.
And I feel out of practice at blogging. Please forgive a first effort in six months.
I get that a lot, and I am very proud of it. These smells bring distinction, yea even honor, to my humble place of work. So burn on, Gingerbread. Burn on, French Vanilla. I will not stop you.
This week has been bite-size. I've trimmed my nails and kept the living room picked up. I had an afternoon with a roommate and worked 10 minutes a day on a music festival program. There were 15 minutes with my Bible this morning, and I'll spend 50 minutes with a sick colleague's theory class today. It's not that this list really sets apart this week from any other - with the exception of the nail trimming. Maybe it's that I find myself this week recognizing a longing for more.
The long, the enduring, the deep, the satisfying. This week, I want lasagna, not another sandwich. I want Schubert sonatas rather than Chopin Mazurkas. I want Paul Simon, black coffee, and corduroy. I want transparent streets of gold and the absence of shadow.
I want to pour out again.
And I feel out of practice at blogging. Please forgive a first effort in six months.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
