Cooking the Halloween decor

Bought as decoration, used as dinner. 

One of the first rules of entertaining is don’t serve a meal you’ve never made before. All sorts of things can go wrong in a new recipe because, like so much in life, what you see on the page isn’t always what you get. Recipes aren’t always carefully proofread and that 1 tablespoon of salt is meant to be a single teaspoon. Or the recipe creator mistakenly leaves out a very important ingredient. We’ll assume it’s a mistake although there was that one aunt who happily shared recipes, but not the whole recipe. She’d leave out an important ingredient or two to be sure that her version of the dish always tasted better than the copy. It took me years to figure that out. Years of feeling like a kitchen failure. Instead I’d lost to a cheater. A hyper-competative kitchen cheater.Don't be that person.

I’ve served more than a few meals that didn’t work, but many more that have. And yes, they’ve been served to guests. That first rule, the one about never serving an experiment is one I refuse to follow. Because of that, some friends recently had the opportunity to share a newly conceived Pumpkin Lasagna that came into existence only because there was a pie pumpkin taking up too much space on the counter. I thought it looked festive when I bought it. Then it just looked like dinner. If I'd bought a butternut squash I would have used that. 

Pumpkin Lasagna

Filling

1 pie pumpkin (or 2 14-ounce cans of pumpkin - NOT Pumpkin Pie Filling) Make sure it is a pie pumpkin. About 3 pounds. Those big carving pumpkins will not work. 

1 cup ricotta

1 cup mascarpone (or leave this out and double the ricotta. There was some in the fridge, so I used it.)

2 eggs

Salt and pepper to taste.

Sage, 1 teaspoon or more

Peel a small pie pumpkin and cut into 1-inch pieces. Toss with olive oil and bake in a 350-degree oven for about 45 minutes or until it’s fork stabbable. Puree. Should make about 3 cups. Leave it in the food processor and add the ricotta, mascarpone and egg.

Sauce

1 medium onion, diced

2 or more cloves garlic

1/4 cup butter

1/4 cup flour

1 1/2 to 2 cups cream or half and half

Pork sausage or 4 to 6 pieces diced Canadian bacon (optional) 

Sauté the diced onion in olive oil until translucent. Add the garlic and sauté. Set aside. Brown the sausage or bacon. Set aside. Make a white sauce with the butter, flour and cream. (Add some of the parmesan to the sauce if you’d like.) I use a large cast iron frying pan for all three of these steps. Combine the pork product and the onion/garlic mix in the sauce. Set aside.

Assemble

12 ounces of mozzarella

1 cup shredded parmesan

1 box of pre-cooked lasagna

Spread 9- by 12-inch baking dish with a layer of sauce. 

Layer 1: Noodles

Layer 2: Pumpkin filling.

Layer 3: Mozzarella and Parm

Layer 4 Sauce

Repeat, ending with a layer of sauce-covered noodles sprinkled with Parmesan.

Cover pan with sheet of oiled foil. Bake in 375-degree oven for 40 minutes. Uncover and bake 20 more. Let sit 10 minutes before serving.

Grow Up and Get Over It

The website Better After 50 -  www.ba50.com - has been kind to me. The published my essay "Grow Up And Get Over It" recently:

I’m not whining here, but up to a certain point, my life kind of sucked. Not the Dickensian kind of horrible, with orphanages and gruel, but more of the pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of suckiness, where some instincts you didn’t know you had tell you to get off your rapidly expanding behind and move forward. Granted, those instincts really didn’t kick in until I was in my 40s, but the point is they did and things got better.

 Still, one doesn’t forget where one comes from, even when one is forgetting nearly everything else. Edging past 50 there are days (weeks) of struggle to keep the past in the past. It creeps in and I wash it back with wine and regret. My iPod repeats songs I found corny in my youth, with refrains of missed opportunity and lost chances. In the morning, when my head clears, I make lists – lots of lists – and get on with it. Here’s my current 10 step method for moving forward when I’d rather not move at all, give or take a few steps:

1.                    Stop wining. Yeah, that bottle of cool crisp comfort. That lovely chard or sublime s.b.? Put it away. Fresh starts, even Fresh Start #78, need clear heads. Tell yourself its temporary if you must, but cork it.

2.                    Collect recipes for the end of the world. Things like “101 Meals from Foraged Food” or “Bonfire Bakery.” You may never need them, but you’ll have the comfort of knowing that you can continue to thrive, even in conditions far worse that those you’re currently experiencing.

3.                    Get off Facebook. All those crazy family members you’ve avoided over the years? Facebook is where the hunt you down and corner you. Run away.

4.                    Stop feeling bad about feeling bad. Life’s like a hangover. You feel horrible one morning. You promise yourself you’ll never drink again EVER. You feel better. Until you remember that EVER is a very long time.

5.                    Keep moving. It doesn’t have to be fast and it doesn’t have to be far. It just has to be off the couch.

6.                    Use some of that useful information you’ve gathered on Pinterest. Make the baby food jar terrarium. Repurpose your old t-shirts into a wall hanging. Bake cupcakes in a coffee mug. Clear your life of the things you’re going to do Some Day by getting them out of the way. You’ll find that some things aren’t worth the effort of holding on to, like crockpot recipes for 40. Or faded flowers from your first wedding. Or anything that reminds you that life can’t be grand.