By Halloween. I wore scrubs to work, which I do every year because scrubs are a costume on October 31st by default, but this year I had a belly and one of the residents drew a jack-o-lantern face on a piece of paper and taped it to my stomach and I was apparently a pregnant pumpkin all shift. I left it on. The kids on pediatric who came trick-or-treating through the oncology floor thought it was excellent. One of them asked if there was a baby in there and I said yes and she said "does the baby know it's Halloween" and I said probably not but I'd tell him later.
Halloween in Southie is the real kind. Not artisanal. We had Reese's and Snickers and I sat in the doorway while Sean handled the stoop because my back has started having opinions about standing. We've been in this apartment three years and I know every kid on the block by face now—the twins from the second floor, the gap-toothed boy from the corner building, the girl who wore the same astronaut costume two years running. A sixteen-year-old showed up in a sheet with two holes in it and I gave him candy anyway because I respect minimal effort executed with commitment.
I made pumpkin chili on Sunday with a real pie pumpkin Sean roasted, not from a can. I'd been skeptical but the sweetness against the cumin and chili powder worked in a way I hadn't expected. Sean ate two bowls and asked if there was more. There was more. Twenty weeks this week—halfway there, which sounds both impossible and overdue simultaneously.
The kicks come reliably now, after lunch and around ten at night when I finally sit down. Sean puts his hand on my belly and waits for it with the patience he usually reserves for late-inning baseball. When it happens he gets a look on his face I want to photograph and keep.
The pumpkin chili on Sunday used up most of what Sean roasted, but there was still that warm, spiced feeling I wasn’t ready to let go of come Monday morning — the kind that settles in when something works better than you expected it to. Pumpkin French toast turned out to be exactly the right way to carry it forward: a little sweet, a little custardy, smelling like fall in a way that made the apartment feel like the season had moved in with us. Twenty weeks in, I will take every slow, good-smelling morning I can get.
Pumpkin French Toast
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 8 thick slices brioche or challah bread
- 3/4 cup pumpkin puree (canned or from a roasted pie pumpkin)
- 3 large eggs
- 1/2 cup whole milk
- 2 tablespoons pure maple syrup, plus more for serving
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
- Pinch of salt
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, for the pan
- Powdered sugar, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Make the custard. In a wide, shallow bowl, whisk together the pumpkin puree, eggs, milk, maple syrup, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves, and salt until smooth and well combined.
- Soak the bread. Working in batches, dip each slice of bread into the pumpkin custard, letting it soak for about 20–30 seconds per side so the mixture soaks in without making the bread soggy.
- Heat the pan. Melt about 1/2 teaspoon of butter in a large nonstick skillet or griddle over medium heat. Swirl to coat the pan evenly.
- Cook the French toast. Add 2–3 soaked slices to the pan at a time. Cook for 3–4 minutes per side, until deep golden brown and cooked through. Adjust heat as needed to avoid burning. Repeat with remaining butter and bread.
- Serve warm. Plate the French toast and top with a dusting of powdered sugar, a drizzle of maple syrup, or a dollop of whipped cream if you’re feeling it. A sprinkle of extra cinnamon never hurt anyone.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 380 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 58g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 320mg