if it's raining, it must be october

It won't stop raining.

Every weekend and many evenings since autumn began, I've been trying to find an opportunity to drag some old props into the backyard and (in keeping with this year's theme of "everything old is new again"), freshen them up.  In most cases, "freshening them up" requires spray paint.  And spray paint requires dry weather. At least for a while.

But it just keeps raining.  And misting.  And drizzling.  Culminating yesterday in an intense evening of wind and pouring rain.  So instead of working on props, I ate candy corn cookies, made a cup of pumpkin tea, lit some Halloween candles, and listened to the rain lash the windows.

The coming weekend promises better weather.  Too bad I have to be out of town for Thanksgiving.

monster cookies

It was beginning again.  Blog after blog after blog.   Heralding the return of autumn and Halloween-themed foods to store shelves everywhere.  Everywhere except here.  Apparently, "out there", there exists a plethora of  Halloween and pumpkin goodness at this time of year.   Pop Tarts.  Ice Cream.   Flavoured Coffee.  Cereals.


And here . . . ?   Here I get to pass displays of Pillsbury slice-and-bake cookies in the grocery freezer section.

Until now.

Because this week, staring out at me from a store shelf was none other than . . . "Monsters" cookies.  Box upon box upon box of Monsters cookies.  With the all-important selling features of real cocoa and zero trans fat.  No longer did I have to lament the absence of Halloween-inspired food products in my life.  No longer did I have to eat vicariously through the posts and photographs of others, more fortunate than I.   Now I, too, could partake in the goodness of seasonal treats.

I grabbed a box and took it home.

Yes, the cookies were dry.  And bland.  And barely recognizable as the monsters they represented.  And I never would have suspected the inclusion of "real cocoa" had they not promised it on the box.  But all of that is beside the point.  What matters here is that my autumn dreams have finally been realized.  As I kept reminding myself while I choked down a second and third monster cookie.

These may require an extra-large cup of pumpkin tea.

signs

Yes, pumpkins are appearing everywhere. But the truly unmistakable sign that Halloween is getting very close is the tower of chips that now stands near the entrance of every grocery and department store.

I'm wondering how long I can resist buying a box. Or two.

something old, something new

It's that time of year again.  When I begin to scan the magazine shelves regularly, looking for that first smiling jack-o-lantern staring back at me.  So far, there have been only a couple of autumn offerings to tempt me.  And then, as anticipated, the first true sign of Halloween.

I greet the appearance of this magazine each year with mixed emotions.  I know it's filled with cutesy crafts and recipes recycled and modified only slightly from year to year.  I couldn't begin to count how many versions of the Rice Krispie jack-o-lantern I've encountered in my lifetime.  But as I stand there in the grocery aisle, it is unfailingly the first glimpse of a Halloween magazine that I receive every summer.  And I can't resist it.

So maybe it's just me.  Maybe this summer's incessant rain is making my brain soggy.  Or maybe it's simply a result of my diminished expectations.  But this year's offering seems to be a modest improvement over recent years.  Particularly in the beverage section. 

This cider is at the top of my list if the Valley's apple crop survives the summer.

And if September's weather turns out to be warmer than August's (as it sometimes does) I may opt for a cold smoothie instead of hot cider.

Yes, as I eagerly turned the pages, I was impressed with several of this year's recipes.  Maybe there has been a conscious effort on the part of the magazine's producers to add some variety and freshness to their standard repertoire. Or maybe I'm still giddy from that first glimpse of orange.

Happy Canada Day

So early this morning, I went down to a park near my house for some free pancakes. Because there's no better way to begin Canada Day than with pancakes. Especially free pancakes.

And as I sat there in the sunshine, devouring their maple syrup-soaked goodness, I spotted something off in the distance.

A new attraction this year. Bright and shiny and colourful. It warmed my heart.

Nothing says "Happy Canada Day" like shrunken heads and werewolves.

cake dreams

Each Halloween, I try to create a themed cake. Something both creepy and delicious. I've been quite proud of many of my creations, although some have undoubtedly been more successful than others. Most notable among the "less successful", my werewolf cake, which more closely resembled a bearded hobo than a terrifying creature of the night.

But even those cakes that have turned out well have never turned out quite this well:





Thanks to the Bleeding Heart Bakery, I realize I still have a long, long, long way to go.

Source

Happy Easter

Sadly, by the time I discovered this, I noticed that they had sold out. And then to add insult to injury, it appeared to be a belated April Fool's joke. There's nothing funny about zombie bunnies. Nothing at all.




If only. . . *sigh*. Happy Easter anyway.

too many cheesecakes

Sometime before Christmas, I developed a mild addiction to these miniature cheesecakes. Caramel. Cheesecake. Wonderful little glass containers. Four dollars for two. What's not to love?


But I didn't realize quite how much I was loving them until a glance inside my cupboard told me I would need additional storage space for all those wonderful little glass containers.




I'm thinking that they might easily be turned into nifty little Halloween candles. However, if my addiction continues unabated, by October, the light from all those candles will be blinding.

too little, too late

So I'm down at Sobeys, replenishing my supply of Santa's Milk and Cookies ice cream. When I notice something in the freezer beside said ice cream. Something orange. Upon closer inspection, I discover, there next to Santa's Milk and Cookies, heretofore unseen containers of Praline Pumpkin Pie ice cream. Many, many, many containers of Praline Pumpkin Pie ice cream.

Was this ice cream available in my grocery store in October? No it was not. Nor was it available in any previous October. In fact, the perpetual lack of pumpkin and/or Halloween themed delicacies has been a lament of mine for many years. But despite the poor timing of the product's arrival, I immediately purchased some. How could I not? Pralines. Pumpkin pie. What's not to love?

What's not to love? This ice cream, that's what. Pasty. Bland. Thoroughly unappetizing. It's continued presence in my freezer speaks volumes. And this, in a family that routinely devours 2 litre containers of ice cream in under 48 hours. It seems poor timing is not the only problem here. Pumpkin Pie Praline could learn some serious lessons from Santa's Milk and Cookies.

aftermath

A night that, according to a solid week of weather forecasts, was supposed to be dry but cold, turned out instead to be rainy but mild. There were still over 100 intrepid trick-or-treaters, but the night began to wind down earlier than usual as the rain intensified. No matter. I remained dry on my porch. And everyone seemed to enjoy the haunted garden. Even the unintentionally-cute grasshopper. Interestingly enough, some of the most enthusiastic and heartfelt comments came from 13 year-old boys.




And best of all, a smaller than usual crowd means more leftovers. They will factor prominently in my recovery from a weekend which saw Halloween collide with Hal-Con. I'm exhausted.

hot dogs and pizza

I must commend the Humpty-Dumpty potato chip company of the 1970's for its ingenuity. The plastic trick-or-treat bag I'm holding in this photograph is no ordinary plastic bag, purchased for the sole purpose of trick-or-treating. No, its purpose was two-fold.

When purchased, it was filled with miniature bags of potato chips to be distributed on Halloween night. Then, once empty, the bag itself could be used for trick-or-treating. Ingenious. But with one obvious flaw. It couldn't be used by the resident trick-or-treater until its contents were given out to visiting trick-or-treaters. By which time, Halloween night would be over. Hence the need to transfer the little bags of chips into another container. To free up the original bag.

I was always willing to assume responsibility for this task. And if a few of those tiny bags of chips went missing during the transfer process . . . well, it couldn't be avoided. An occupational hazard. Especially where hot dog and pizza flavoured chips were concerned. My favourites. A preference clearly not shared by many since they were discontinued after a few short years. But what wonderful years they were. Luckily, we lived in a rural neighbourhood. With a long uphill driveway. And few trick-or-treaters. We really didn't need all those bags of chips.

400

The Blogger dashboard tells me that I am about to make my 400th post. That seems a large and significant number, so I searched for something appropriate. Something memorable. Something truly worthy of Post #400.

Hmmm . . . 400 . . . 400 . . . I could think of nothing. So, instead, I've decided to go with something neither memorable nor worthy.

In honour of my 400th post, the acknowledgement that I've probably eaten well over 400 miniature bags of Halloween chips in my lifetime. A number that continues to grow annually.

pumpkin pie

This weekend I made my annual apple-picking journey to the Annapolis Valley. Which included my annual stop at a farmer's market for pumpkin pie fudge. The only place I've ever seen it.




Pumpkin pie fudge and a hot cup of tea. No indeed. Life doesn't get any better than this.

further caramel apple betrayal

Anyone who was reading my blog at this time last year may recall my misadventures with candy and caramel apples. We have a long and checkered history together, candy apples and I. And it's clearly not over yet. Because when I entered a local Second Cup recently and approached the counter, intent on ordering a pumpkin spice latte, my eye caught something. Something new. It seems my beloved pumpkin spice latte is now sharing it's promotional space with the new latte in town. The Caramel Apple Latte. Caramel apples. I hate you, and yet I can't turn away.

So I ordered one. And I carried it to a table facing Spring Garden Road to people-watch and rediscover the joy of the caramel apple. Alas, it was not to be. This caramel apple latte contained no hint of caramel, other than the somewhat artistic swirl that graced the top of the foam. Nor did it contain the flavour of apples. I was profoundly disappointed. Once again, the caramel apple has let me down. Betrayed my trust. Never again, caramel apples. Never again.

jalapeno and pizza

Potato chips are not among my favourite snacks. I can live quite happily for months at a time without ever having a potato chip pass through my hands. Occasionally, however, there comes a time when a new potato chip appears on my radar. And I try it. And I become addicted.

This is the situation in which I currently find myself with regard to Jalapeno Kettle Chips. I'm sure that, in time, this addiction will pass. But that time is not now. And recently, while devouring the latest bag of crispy, spicy, greasy goodness, I paused for reflection. I reflected upon the times throughout my life in which I have become seriously enamoured with a specific flavour of potato chip.

It hasn't been as often as one might think. Frankly, the ordinary and ubiquitous flavours of Barbecue and Salt & Vinegar and their ilk hold no attraction for me. No. To truly captivate me, a potato chip flavour must be somewhat more unusual. Like jalapeno. Or pizza. Pizza . . .

My mind drifted back. Back to the days of my childhood. Back to the last time I was addicted to a potato chip (apart from a brief love affair with Miss Vickie's Original when they first appeared). Back to the 70's.



In the photo, I, along with my two younger cousins, appear ready to dash out the door and embark on an evening of trick-or-treating. The bags we are holding represent a clever marketing strategy by the Humpty-Dumpty chip people. These bags were intended to serve a dual purpose. When purchased, they were full of small bags of chips to be distributed to trick-or-treaters. Then, the bag itself was meant to be used as a trick-or-treating sack.

There was one flaw in the plan. The bag had to be emptied of its original contents before it could be used for trick-or-treating. And if one or two or ten of the little bags of chips went missing while being transferred from one container to another, who would know?

The Humpty-Dumpty organization had clearly reached a pinnacle of creativity in the 1970's. Because in addition to the standard flavours of Barbecue, Plain, and Salt & Vinegar, they introduced new, bold, never-before-seen flavours of chips. Like pizza. Ahhh . . . pizza chips. How I loved them. They were unlike any potato chips I had tasted before. And with so few chips in each bag, it became necessary to eat several of those little Halloween bags to feel satiated. Several little bags that were quietly gathered and eaten while my parents were downstairs, distracted by The Price Is Right. Looking back, it amazes me that any bags remained for the trick-or-treaters. My mother must have suspected something and hidden some away.

Sadly, it seems that I was the only child who adored pizza-flavoured potato chips. It seems that no one else shared my addiction. Because as suddenly as they had appeared that one Halloween, pizza chips were gone. Never to be seen again. Not at Halloween, nor at any other time of year. It would be a long time before I would find a potato chip to which I could feel such devotion. It would not be until many years later. Until the discovery of my beloved Jalapeno Kettle Chips.

candy pie

Leftover Halloween candy still hanging around? Miniature chocolate bars got you down? Not sure what to do with all that candy corn?

Worry no more. CakeSpy has the solution. And its name is Leftover Halloween Candy Pie.


It's exactly what it looks like. A bunch of leftover Halloween candy dumped into a pie shell and baked. Simple and unpretentious. I was intrigued. It's candy and pastry after all. What's not to love? I envisioned miniature Aeros and Kit-Kats, Reese's Pieces and M&M's, candy corn and mellocreme; all melting and mingling in a warm flaky shell.

Then I began to look for the leftover Halloween candy. Only to discover sadly that there wasn't any left. Apparently, "leftover Halloween candy" is an oxymoron in my house.

I'll have to file this one away under "next year". It just doesn't seem right to go out and purchase candy for "leftover" candy pie.

what could it mean?

Is it a pumpkin cheesecake . . . or a pumpkin pi ?

I sense the mathematical gods are attempting to communicate with me.

and the winner is . . . chocolate

It sounded too good to be true. Truffles that combined cream cheese, chocolate and pumpkin. All three flavours blending perfectly. The truffle dream team. But no. One of them had to dominate. Take control. Push the others into the background. The culprit: chocolate. Next time, there will be severe restrictions placed on chocolate's participation.

Here's what happened:

11 oz. semi-sweet chocolate, melted

4 oz. cream cheese

1/3 cup pumpkin puree

1 cup icing sugar

3 Tbsp. cocoa powder

cinnamon & nutmeg, to taste

Combined all ingredients. Refrigerated until firm. Rolled into truffles.

There was also something about kneading marzipan, tinting it orange, rolling pieces of it around each truffle, and indenting the sides to resemble pumpkins. Sounds impressive. But with only three days until Halloween, I refused to even consider it. Instead, I took the easy way out and rolled them in these snazzy orange candy sprinkles. Fancy.

They tasted great. If you like chocolate with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. And I do. But next time, the cream cheese and spice content will go up. Way up.

fearless

Overcoming my fear of vampires (or perhaps large blood-sucking insects) one cupcake at a time.

The Wolfman: immortalized in cookie dough

Undeterred by my difficulties with the skeleton cookies (I blame the icing) , I attempted another cookie project using the same recipe.

This one looked significantly easier. And it was something of an homage to my favourite classic monster. How could I refuse?

No complex shapes. No struggles with uncooperative icing. Apart from a few cracked, seedy-looking eyes, they turned out well. Maybe it was a rough night for poor Larry.

Yet another reason to love the Wolfman.