BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…Make me some piiiiiiiieee.

Thanksgiving – or L-Tryptophan Day, as I like to call it – was pretty good this year. I’m not one for setting aside a single day to do the “thanking thing.” I try to make sure I do it when the situation calls for it, rather than waiting. And, we all know I don’t buy into the concept of a divine being providing me with the things I need to be thankful for… Well… Except for E K, but her Supremeness is something else entirely…

But I digress <– My favorite expression – and activity – as we all know…

Anywho, L-Tryptophan Day was good. Did the hanging out with family thing. Got to spend time with our PhD niece, World Traveler niece, and College Freshman niece. The other niece and nephew are at that age where we Gr’ups are too boring to be around, so we didn’t see too much of them. As always, food was prepared, food was eaten, food was stored away in icebox crevices due to the overwhelming amount of leftovers – an L-Tryptophan Day tradition in and of itself.

When dessert time rolled around, several pies were on deck – among them being the traditional Bourbon-Rum Cranberry Mince Pie, and the experimental Bailey’s Pumpkin Pie – all direct from my kitchen. After some tweetage about the pieness, I started receiving requests for the recipe for the latter. So, here it is, sans picture of a pie because we ate them before I could take one…

MERP’S Bailey’s Pumpkin Pie

INGREDIENTS

3/4 Cup Light Brown Sugar

2 Cups Pumpkin (I prefer to use fresh, as we grow pumpkins here at home, but canned pumpkin can can be used instead. Generally available in 15 OZ size, simply forgo the 16th ounce and call it good.)

2 Whole Eggs, Large

1 Egg Yolk

2 tsp blackstrap molasses

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground ginger

1/4 tsp ground cloves

6 OZ evaporated milk

3 OZ Bailey’s Irish Cream Liquer

3 OZ Heavy Cream

1 9-10 inch pie crust (homemade or store bought, your choice)

DIRECTIONS

Preheat oven to 425F.

Lightly beat eggs, then combine with the rest of the ingredients in a mixing bowl. Mix well. Pour into pie crust (I am assuming you have put the pie crust into a pie tin and properly trimmed it. If you haven’t, go back to Home Ec and do not attempt to cook anything until you receive at least a passing grade.) Since many pie tins and pre-prepared crusts have different depths, if you have any extra filling, simply pour it into a ramekin and treat it as a custard.

Place on center rack of oven and bake for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 and bake an additional 40-50 minutes. It is done when a toothpick can be inserted into the center and is clean when removed.

Allow to cool, then cover and refrigerate, as it will be best when cold and dense. Serve with whipped cream, Bailey’s whipped cream, or ice cream – OR for the purists, a large slice in hand, over the sink, with a cup of coffee…

More to come…

Murv

A gentle reminder: I don’t just spout silliness here on this blog. I also write novels. Those are what put the bread on the table, but bread is just about it as far as that goes. My wife has to bring home the bacon (and broccoli, and eggs, and milk, and…) That’s not what this is about, however…

If you have read my official bio over on my regular “author type person” website then you have probably run across the part about us having a pair of rescued felines, both of whom I describe as “the competition.”

Why “the competition?” some have asked.

Easy. They’ve got a thing for The Supreme Redhead. Yeah… E K.

Now, I realize that sounds a bit paranoid, but let me tell you a story. A recent story, in fact, and not at all unusual around here with these furry lunatics.

Just the other night, E K was on the sofa, and Competition #1, AKA Asphalt (because we rescued him from the middle of a highway on-ramp) immediately climbed onto her lap. He does this every time she parks for more than two minutes. Yes… I can hear you now, “But, Murv, that’s normal for cats.”

Yeah… sure.

As usual, E K babbled at him a bit, making all those “wooja-wooja ai lub yoo” noises and scritching him behind the ears. Now, remember, Asphalt started life as a kitten the size of a large hamster, but has grown to better than 20 lbs and has a head the size of a small melon. So, with him sprawled across EKay’s lap, she is sort of trapped.

The bag of tuna breath waited until she was finished and had directed her attention elsewhere. Then, he looked around, stared directly at me for a moment, then shifted a little, raised a paw, and copped a feel.

Yes. Pardon the colloquialism, but the old lardass planted his paw on EKay’s right “boob,” and left it there. Then, he looked at me with an expression on the order of, “Neener Neener, What’re you gonna do about it?”

And before you tell me that it was just a cat being a cat, I’d like to remind you that I saw the look on his face, so I know better.

All I can say is that if he starts bringing her dead stuff, he and I are going to go out back and have a talk. I’m pretty sure I can take him…

More to come…

Murv