Pumpkins

Pumpkin Memories

October 29, 2022

Pumpkins


We love pumpkins.  You cut off the bottom, scoop out everything inside and scrape all the yummy meat out (save it for roasted seeds and pumpkin pie!), decorate it with a silly face, and put a candle inside – now it’s an amazing nightlight that smells oh-so-good!

The first pumpkin I opened up with Grandma Jeanette; she was teaching me how to make her pumpkin pie.  My Daddy had told us long ago that the reason for the perfect pale color in most commercial pumpkin pies was due to the company using a hard squash instead of pumpkin.  Pumpkin cooks darker than winter squash.  Grandma Jeanette used everything.  I loved learning things from her because I can’t stand waste.  She came from the generation and grew up using everything!  Nothing was ever thrown away.  I loved that.  

Anyway, back to the pumpkin.  She opened it from the top with a big knife.  I was expecting puree like when you open a “pumpkin pack” tin can.  Nope.  Stringy spongy looking guts with spots of seeds reminded me of thick orange spiderwebs.  Grandma Jeanette took all that stuff and scraped with her big metal spoon until the wall was very thin.  Stringy stuff and tiny shavings that looked like slivers went into a big pot with a little bacon grease in the bottom.  She had a really cool method of basically pulling on the strings and all the seeds practically fell onto a pan on the counter.  She picked a few out.  (I have never been able to duplicate that easy seed removal and wondered later if she picked a specific type of pumpkin!) Seeds got tossed around in an oil and spice mixture and roasted in the oven.  The big chunks of hard pumpkin wall (not the actual skin, just the “wall” scrapings from inside) got chopped into smaller hunks and tossed in the pot with the strings and shavings.  Water added to the pot.  It was covered and cooked in a pressure cooker for however long we were sitting and chatting on the couch while the seeds roasted.  

When the lid came off, the strings and hunks had blended into a watery orange soup.  Grandma churned that around with her blender (it got handed down to me years later and had been manufactured in the 40s!) until it was smooth and now it looked like a darker cousin of the canned pumpkin I was so used to seeing.  

Now that was pumpkin pack!  

When Grandma Jeanette did it with me that year, she made all of it into pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas as family and friends always gathered at her house.  She froze the ones to save for Christmas.  I loved the heavenly smell!  She taught me some tricks about the pastry dough.  She sometimes short-cutted by buying premade dough, which she would prick with a fork, paint with butter and sprinkle with a bit of sugar on the edges to give it a “homemade” taste.  For my scratch recipe, she showed me how to layer and roll so it would be flakey.  Cold butter shaved into the mix.  Don’t overmix.  Don’t over roll.  NEVER freeze your scratch pastry.  Always bake the whole pie and then freeze – but it’s always best fresh.  It’s super fast and easy to make anyway, so I LOVE making pastry dough from scratch.

This is why I am transported into happy memories when I see a pumpkin.  I remember bumping around the kitchen with little Christina, Becky, and assorted cousins in and out of the house as we laughed and I listened to Grandma Jeanette’s stories.  

When I cut a pumpkin, I make pumpkin pack, but I don’t bake 12 to 16 pies the same day.  I use the canning pot and tools (all hand-me-downs from Grandma Jeannette, we still reuse some of her jars as well) to can the pumpkin pack for later pies.  1 pint makes one deep-dish pumpkin pie.  1 quart makes 2 deep dishes or 3 flat pies.  I love the whole process!  My plan each holiday season always includes a pumpkin and pumpkin pack and from-scratch pastry to make pumpkin pies.  I tell the stories of Grandma Jeanette and Christina, Becky, and the cousins bringing critters (lizards, toads, etc) into the kitchen and being told how cool they were before being shooed “back where they belong” to “take them home to their families,” yes, that’s why I say that about insects and critters my children capture.  I tell stories of our family because it feels so natural to do that while I’m canning.  Grandma Jeanette taught me to can.  She gave me our tiny library of books and pamphlets about canning, storing Florida produce, and food safety (old publications that came from St Johns County, University of Florida, and Ball, Inc with dates ranging from 1928 to 1965).  

Louis carves the pumpkin shell with the girls.  They love it!  If you open from the bottom, you can replace the candle easier and you can sprinkle cinnamon on the top (while the pumpkin is upside down and let it sit to sink in) and it will stick and make the house smell so good!

Pumpkins make me think of family.  Pumpkins make me smile because of the memories I have and the memories I hope I create for my family.  What food makes you think of happy memories?

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

The Story of Sheba

December 28, 2019

The Story of Sheba

Once there was a little girl who loved dogs and prayed for a little black dog.  Her mom had already agreed to take the least wanted puppy from a litter about to happen.  Her mom prayed the puppy was black.

A few weeks later, Mom got a call – the mommy dog had shoved one baby puppy away and it needed special care.  Mom said, “we’ll take it” and the tiny “runt of the litter” fluffy puppy came to her furever home. That was February 25, 2008, almost 12 years ago. And yes, other than a white spot on her tummy that grew to cover her belly and some brownish tan on her paws, the puppy was black!

Sheba became the Tart family’s perfect dog.  She loved the three little humans who grew up with her.  Kimberly was only five months older than Sheba!  Sheba ran around, grew up, played, made doggie friends, herded chickens, mothered lost dogs who wandered in, loved on chickens when the Tarts lived on their farm, snuggled with baby chicks, guinea pigs, the two rabbits, and Christina’s baby puppy, Prim. 

Sheba had a wonderful doggie life. 

(top) Sheba with puppy Primrose, (bottom) Sheba with Lady (one of our doggie friends), (right) Thea climbed up on the couch to snuggle Sheba, who was sleeping in her new, weird, favorite position.

Last year she started to slow down a bit.  In December of this year, she started feeling sick some days.  The vet said her stomach was failing. Vitamins and special food helped a little.  She wasn’t able to digest all her food and she would get skinny and we had decided once she was in pain, we would put her to sleep.  None of us wanted to lose our Sheba.  She loved being outside when it was cool because she was bushy furry (we teased she was an a/c dog because she slept on one of the air conditioning vents in summer and almost refused to go outside in summer daylight!).  On cooler days, she would play on our run while we were outside.  Christmas Day it was gorgeous.  Sheba said hi to both Grandmas when they visited and ran outside almost the whole day in gentle cool breezes.  We were petting and snuggling with her by turns.  She sleeps a lot since she’s been over 10 so when she curls down to sleep we usually let her rest.  We were enjoying a Christmas campfire and telling stories.  Louis went inside to get some water.  I knew Sheba was fully asleep when Louis stopped by her longer than just to stroke her and turned his flashlight on.  I handed Thea to Mom and we verified that she was fully gone. I stroked her soft, fluffy coat one last time before I wrapped her in her blanket.

The older girls came out to help.  We buried her and said goodbye to our best furry friend.  Sheba had spent more time with me than any other dog.  She was our first family dog. My mom said, “Sheba probably found Boompa and Aunt Mary in heaven.” Christina laughed, “oh, yes, she instantly found Aunt Mary!” Because every time Mary would stay with us, Sheba would seek her bed out and snuggle with her – I’d be like, “no dogs in the bed, Mary,” and she’d giggle, wrap Sheba in a bear hug and say, “but she’s a big, fluffy stuffed animal!” and Sheba would give us the sweet sad eyes so she’d get to sleep with Mary.  Sheba always snuggled up with anyone who wasn’t feeling well – she always seemed to know before we did.

Kimberly said she had prayed that Sheba would get to run loose outside, thinking of us having a fenced yard at our new house, but Sheba had been running loose anytime she was outside lately and stayed near the house because she didn’t feel good. 

Louis set candles out on her grave for the night.  We’ve planted flowers now.  Each pet we’ve lost, we’ve buried and planted a tree over it as a reminder.  Louis called Sheba our perfect dog.  That she was. 

Flower Bed for Sheba
The Garden Bed we planted for Sheba

Thea’s first Christmas was Sheba’s last.  Our furry family treasure went to heaven, “raced over the rainbow bridge” as Jillian said, after spending a full Christmas Day with her family and “Grandmas.” It had been Sheba’s favorite outside day, gentle cool breezes with a mild, wintery temperature where she’d stand, face in the wind and wag that super fluffy “duster” tail. I’m going to miss my Sheba.  Two months shy of 12 full years from her February 25th birthday – rather long for a dog.  Goodbye, my sweet, lovable, playful furry baby; I love you Sheba, run free and fast with no leash and no borders! Your human family will miss you!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

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