Amanda Helms

It’s a bad sign when I miss my exit because I’m thinking about this recipe. I love King Arthur Flour, both their products and their recipes. I can’t recall a single failure from following their recipes, and though I think I make a pretty good baker, I seem to consistently get the most praise with King Arthur. So when I have a hankering for pumpkin cinnamon rolls, and then the heavens smile upon me and lead me to a King Arthur recipe for pumpkin cinnamon rolls, you can bet I’ll pay attention. And now it’s been over three weeks since I first read the recipe, and these cinnamon rolls have yet to grace my kitchen.

I will remedy that this weekend. And I missed my exit because I was thinking of all the iterations I might try on the recipe: What if I did a sourdough version? Not the best idea since my sourdough baking still leaves something to be desired, and especially since the weather’s turning colder, so the rise would be even slower… hmm. What if I tried adding whey to the dough to give it a bit of oomph? But I don’t have any whey on hand and probably won’t strain yogurt before the weekend–

And I want a nice, gooey filling. Preferably maple. But how to make a gooey maple filling? It’d need butter or other fat, since the dough would absorb the liquid from the maple syrup. Could also add brown sugar, but would that mask the maple taste? Wonder if I could find a filling online that I could modify…

And so on, until

Oh crap, that was my exit!

I am trying not to think too deeply about what this means for me as a writer. I don’t believe I’ve ever missed an exit because I was ruminating about  characters or plot. And I’m also trying not to think too deeply about what this means for NaNoWriMo in particular.

Hey. I do have an idea. And characters. And things the characters will do. Even if those lists aren’t particularly long yet, they’re existent.

Besides, I kind of like to wing it.  More of a challenge for the ol’ imagination. Really stretch it to its limits. Flex my creative muscles.

Cough.

Anyway.

Since I’ve posted previously about my love of pumpkin, it likely doesn’t come as a surprise that I’ve taken to hoarding pie pumpkins. The last few times I’ve gone to the grocery store, I’ve had to resist the sudden leap of joy: They’re still here! I can get one! (ignoring that it’s unlikely they’ll disappear from supermarkets until at least Thanksgiving. And if that happens, it means there’s a pumpkin shortage.*)

Because they’re still sitting on my kitchen counter. Well, I’m down to one intact pumpkin, but still. I have a bit of puree left from my first pumpkin, all the puree from my second, and the third is patiently waiting its turn to be gutted, roasted, and bludgeoned to a pulp.

Some of my current puree will go toward making pumpkin chili for the chili cookoff/Halloween party at my work. Never made pumpkin chili before–and I’ve never participated in the cookoff–but I figure I’ll give it a go. Some of it I’ll add to my morning oatmeal. And the rest for those luscious cinnamon rolls. It’ll make for a lovely Halloween breakfast, a pre-NaNo fortifying treat.

Maybe I’ll miss some exit on Saturday as I panic about NaNo. Or reminisce over the taste of the cinnamon roll; whatever.

*A pause while I clutch my chest in fear and whimper. I must be strong.

I have a love/hate relationship with fall.

Actually, “hate” is too strong. Even “dislike” is a little too far on the negative end of the shades of meaning scale. It’s more accurate to say I have a love/mild regret relationship with fall.

Fall brings pumpkins. Pumpkins means pumpkin pancakes (try the ones here*), pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin chili**, pumpkin soup**, pumpkin beer**, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin bread, pumpkin butter, pumpkin pie, and the pumpkin spice latte from a certain ubiquitous coffee shop chain***.

I would love fall for the tastiness of pumpkin alone. But fall also brings the cool, crisp weather that’s perfect for snuggling up with a cup of chai tea†, a blanket††, and my current book of choice. Yes, yes, it’s sedentary, and I whined about being sedentary in my previous Miscellany Monday post, but still. There is that within me that likes to stay still. I embrace it on occasion.  And if I embrace it not with chai, then with cider.

Oh, brainstorm: Pumpkin cider! Pause with me a moment to consider that taste sensation.

pausepausepausepausepause

(happy sigh)

Lest you think that my love of fall stems solely from the squash and imbibeables, let me note also that I love the colors of the changing leaves†††. Maybe it’s because I’m what the fashion industry would call an autumn and the pastel blues and pinks of spring aren’t meant for my skin tone, but one of my favorite fall pastimes, when I’m not quaffing my chai or cider with my book in hand, is to walk outside and admire the trees. I’ve often thought that when/if I get married, I’d like to do it in fall when the leaves are changing. And that’s as far as I’ve gotten in planning my wedding‡.

The there’s Halloween. Halloween actually isn’t my favorite holiday, but (and here’s another sedentary activity) I derive much enjoyment from watching, and mocking, the cheesy B-movies that abound on basic cable and base satellite packages‡‡. Brings back fond memories of movies mocked and degraded with my dear college roommates.

And, of course, fall is the season of NaNoWriMo‡‡‡.

And so, dear readers,  you are likely now asking yourselves, assuming you didn’t abandon me after sighting the symbol for footnote 6, just what it is about fall that might cause my slight regret, as I have just discoursed on its virtues.

Well. And this likely isn’t wholly fall’s fault, since I’m sure Colorado’s dry clime plays a large roll. But come fall, I am often subject to dry skin, forcing me to slather lotion on my hands and feet in a (mostly futile) effort to prevent my skin from developing rough patches. But worse yet is the facial eczema I develop, since it can get fairly widespread and painful and unsightly and make me think that I might as well try out to be the hideous monster in one of those Halloween-season B-movies, because then at least my misery would result in some monetary compensation rather than just making me wish I really could just wear a bag over my head and be done with it.

I don’t like thinking about that bit. I’m not sure why I even included it.

Lucky for fall that it gives me pumpkins.

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*Considering that two of my three real posts now include links to that Ben Starr guy’s recipe, he should be pretty happy with me.

**Okay, rightly speaking I haven’t yet tried any of these. But I still suspect I’d like them. Well, maybe not the beer, but since I’m not much of a beer fan, that wouldn’t be the pumpkin’s fault.

***And rightly speaking redux, I don’t particularly like this chain’s pumpkin spice latte. But since I don’t much like espresso or any latte, I also know that’s not the pumpkin’s fault. If there is any real pumpkin involved, that is.

†If anyone knows where I could get pumpkin chai tea–or just pumpkin tea–let me know. Really. I’m serious.

††So help me, I actually own one of these thanks to my mother.

††† Comments about how the changing of the leaves lasts a month, tops, leaving behind piles of leaves to rake (which aren’t my responsibility anyway as I have no yard–but I would trade away the convenience for the chance to grow pie pumpkins) and barren branches are unwanted and unnecessary. This is my idyll.

‡ Okay, okay. I’ve also thought that a ballroom-style wedding dress is out and I’d prefer a trumpet or maybe mermaid. But that’s truly it.

‡‡ABC Family’s 13 Nights of Halloween is often a good starting point.

‡‡‡I’d say that Chris Baty must love me more than that Ben Starr guy as I’ve linked to or mentioned NaNoWriMo at least twice as much as the pumpkin gingerbread pancake recipe, but I rather doubt NaNo requires as much advertising.