Pumpkin Desserts . . . yum, yum

This is the heavy time of the year for "Slight Detour" blog traffic.  When I check my sitemeter these days  for traffic on the slight detour and to see who my anonymous friends happen to be, I observe that folks from all over the world are paying a visit.  

They're after that pumpkin dessert recipe which Sue Brooks sent me and I dubbed as "Best Damn Pumpkin Dessert, Period."  The traffic will continue at a heavy pace through this weekend and then pick up again as we move toward Thanksgiving.  It might even maintain through Christmas too, cuz a lot of people like their pumpkin goodies. 

This morning someone checked in from the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. Yesterday, Santa Monica, Santa Barbara and Winnipeg readers, among others, came for a visit to check out the recipe.  

I haven't made that dessert myself since that year Sue sent it around to her friends.  That was the same year we moved to the Lovestead and hosted a neighborhood Halloween party.  I made more than enough, and we enjoyed the dessert for weeks.  Yes, it freezes and still tastes good.

After all the interest in that recipe this year, I think I'm going to have to go to town and get me some yellow cake mixes, which are a main ingredient besides the pumpkin sauce and, of course, the whipped topping.  

It is a phenomenal recipe, and I'll just say to any interested readers to Google it, rather than my posting it again.  

Pumpkins are on my mind this year because I have 13 of them out there in the yard, all from one plant.  I have plans for at least some of those pumpkins after Halloween, and yesterday received some advice from Nan who runs the wonderful new deli and bakery on Division and Baldy Road.

She told me to cut them in half, put them in a baking dish with water, bake to a desired softness, scoop out and either can or freeze.  She prefers freezing.  

Nan lives in our neighborhood, so we've struck up a friendship during my first two visits to her store.  The first time I bought a loaf of her fresh sourdough bread.  Yesterday I was after more sourdough when she told me about the small loaf of sourdough/rye that had just come out of the oven in the back.  

Of course, I wanted to sample that cuz I love rye and sourdough.  While she went to retrieve it, I discovered the jars of pumpkin butter on her shelves filled with preserves.  I could just imagine that pumpkin butter along with some melted margarine on a slice of warm rye sourdough bread.  

And, my imagining turned into reality during the dessert phase of Bill and my in-home Boise State-Louisiana Tech party last night.  While he enjoyed a Schwan's ice cream bar, I sliced off some bread and smothered it with margarine, stuck it in the microwave and then loaded on some pumpkin butter.

A wonderful combination, for sure, and just as good as ice cream.

My other pumpkin fixation comes from the Mennonite Bakery north of Bonners Ferry.  Their pumpkin bread could be marketed just like those Lays potato chips of yesteryear. 

"Betcha can't eat just one."  And, in some cases that might mean "loaf" rather than "slice."

It's very diffiicult to limit the intake to just one slice of that moist and tasty bread; in fact, I had one visitor a while back who sliced off and consumed five pieces within minutes.  She just couldn't stop, just like I couldn't the day I ate those 13 fresh-baked orange cinnamon rolls of Eleanor Delamarter's.  

Anyone who ever delighted in Eleanor's touch in the kitchen can identify with my assessment of all of the aforementioned pumpkin delights. 

Yesterday, Mother Nature gave us a break from the rain, which allowed me to harvest half my carrot patch.  That half filled a complete standard-sized garbage can.  I haven't decided yet whether to leave the rest in the ground over the winter or to cut up some and load them in buckets for horse treats.

One thing's for sure, I'll be looking for carrot recipes.  So, maybe I'd better Google and see if someone's posted one for the "Best Damn Carrot Cake, Period."

A postscript:  A sentence from my Pocket Girdles book "About the Author" reads, "If Marianne Love didn't have a sense of humor, she wouldn't have lasted so long in North Idaho."  

For all who think I need therapy when I gripe and grumble about the weather, please know that there's a whole lot of chuckling and maybe even a little hyperbole going on while I'm writing my posts each morning.

Those of us "natives" who have a sense of humor usually derive it from all the misery we suffer.