Pumpkin Cream Cold Brew -- The Fall in a Cup, After the Kabocha Was Simmered

Daylight saving ended. The dark at five PM. The kitchen the brightest room. Yoga Tuesday and Thursday at the studio. The classes were full. The body was the body.

Miya, 9, can shape onigiri without falling apart. She uses wet hands. She knows the order without being told.

Kabocha nimono Sunday. The squash from the farmers market. Slow simmered in dashi and soy and a touch of sugar. The fall on the plate.

I sat at the kitchen window with my tea. The garden was the garden.

I made onigiri for tomorrow's lunch. Three triangles. Salted plum in the center. Wrapped in nori. The cling wrap. The drawer where I keep them. The system.

I drove to Uwajimaya Wednesday. Kombu, bonito flakes, white miso, a small bag of mochiko for tomorrow's project. The store smells like home.

Sunday farmers market in the rain. The vendors knew me. The Hood River apple stand had honeycrisps. I bought four pounds.

I wrote at the kitchen table from six to eight. The newsletter was forming. The opening sentence was the hard sentence — they always are. I rewrote it five times. The fifth time was the right time.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. Wiped the counters. Reorganized the drawer where the chopsticks live. Sharpened the knife. The reset was the reset.

Made dashi at five-thirty AM. Ten minutes in the kitchen alone with the kombu and the bonito flakes. The day's first prayer.

Therapy Tuesday. We talked about the wedding. We talked about Barbara. We talked about Fumiko. The hour passed. The work continues.

The rain in long sheets Tuesday afternoon. I made tea. I watched it from the porch. The cottonwoods on the next block were silver in the wet.

Miya is in elementary school. The Saturday Japanese school continues. She still complains. She is still going.

The neighbor's dog barked at nothing for twenty minutes Sunday afternoon. The neighbor apologized. I told him I had been writing through it and the white noise was helpful. He laughed.

I texted Miya a photo of the shiso. She texted back a heart and a single word: home.

Tomi watered the garden Saturday morning. The shiso was head-high. The shishito peppers were producing. The kabocha was running on the fence.

I read for an hour Sunday night. A book of essays by a Korean-American writer about food and grief. I underlined a paragraph that said exactly what I had been trying to say in the newsletter for months.

Coffee with a friend Saturday morning. We talked about books, about kids, about the way our forties became our fifties. The talking is the thing.

A panic flicker Tuesday evening, brief, manageable. I breathed. I drank water. I went outside and walked around the block. The flicker passed. The body did its work.

Yoga Tuesday morning. The studio in Sellwood. Eight students. The class was the class.

Miya's old room is now my office. The desk is by the window. The shiso outside. The newsletter in progress. The afternoons are quiet.

A reader sent me a handwritten card this week. Her grandmother had cooked Japanese food in 1970s Boise. She had felt alone in it. The newsletter, she wrote, made her feel less alone. I taped the card to the wall above my desk.

The cat was the cat. Mochi at fifteen sleeps most of the day. She still eats with enthusiasm. She still sits at the kitchen window watching the back garden.

The kabocha nimono had been simmering all Sunday — dashi and soy and that touch of sugar — and the whole kitchen smelled like fall doing its best work. After I wiped the counters and reorganized the chopstick drawer and the reset was the reset, I wanted something that carried that same warmth into Monday morning, something I could make in the ten quiet minutes before the day started. This pumpkin cream cold brew has become that thing: a small, spiced ritual that belongs to the same season as the squash on the fence and the rain in long sheets and the cottonwoods turning silver.

Pumpkin Cream Cold Brew (Starbucks Copycat)

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

• 2 cups cold brew coffee
• Ice, as needed
• 2 tablespoons pumpkin puree
• 3/4 cup heavy cream
• 3 tablespoons vanilla simple syrup (or 2 tablespoons sugar dissolved in 2 tablespoons warm water with 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract)
• 1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice, plus more for topping
• 1 tablespoon powdered sugar
• Pinch of fine sea salt

Instructions

1. Make the pumpkin cream. In a small saucepan over low heat, whisk together the pumpkin puree, 2 tablespoons of the heavy cream, the vanilla simple syrup, pumpkin pie spice, and a pinch of salt until smooth and just warmed through, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool for 5 minutes.
2. Whip the cream. In a jar or measuring cup, combine the remaining heavy cream, the pumpkin mixture, and the powdered sugar. Use a milk frother or small whisk to whip until thick and pourable but not stiff — about 30 to 45 seconds. It should mound softly on a spoon.
3. Build the drinks. Fill two tall glasses with ice. Divide the cold brew evenly between the two glasses.
4. Top and serve. Gently spoon or pour the pumpkin cream over the back of a spoon onto the surface of each drink so it floats. Dust with a pinch of pumpkin pie spice. Serve immediately and stir before drinking.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 280 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 85mg