Trip to the Pumpkin Patch

This past weekend Eliot and I drove out to the farm to find the perfect pumpkin for Eliot's first Halloween. Barthel's Fruit Farm features prominantly in my own childhood. When I was young (well, younger than I am now) my family and I would head out to Barthel's in the summer to pick fresh strawberries and snap peas. In the fall we picked apples and pumpkins. Trips to the farm were always followed with a flurry of culinary activities. Strawberry freezer jam, strawberry pie, applesauce and apple crisp were just some of the things we looked forward to.

When Eliot and I arrived at the pumpkin patch things looked a little less promising than we'd hoped. After trudging around in the mud, and picking my way around peices of smashed pumpkin, I had decided that we were going to have to return to the main barn to select a nice, clean specimen.

But just at the edge of the patch, we spotted it. Sitting upright with a nice, shiny round face and a gently curving stem (perfect for taking hold of), our pumpkin was waiting patiently for us. Eliot seemed pleased and we headed back to the barn where I sipped some warm spiced cider and Eliot supervised the apple sorting machine with rapt attention. We got some good pie apples (which we transformed into apple crisp later that evening) and counted the outing a great success.