Death of a Pumpkin Carver (11 page)

A heaping serving of my delicious Pumpkin Stew is guaranteed to wash away all of life's problems. With each spoonful, I promise you will feel weeks of tension slowly draining from your body. That's what happened to me last night. Until my son walked in the kitchen and said the words every mother dreads hearing from her child.

“Mom, I want to sign up for Driver's Education next semester!”

What?

How on earth was he fifteen years old already?

Why hadn't I seen this coming?

I turned to my daughter, who was a few years older than her brother and quietly eating a bowl of my Pumpkin Stew, and all of the traumatic, horrifying memories of her learning to drive came flooding back to me.

Let's just say neither of us appealed to the better angels of our nature during that trying time. And reliving those moments required me to fish out another pumpkin-inspired treat out of my plastic recipe box, my special Pumpkin Pie Cocktail, which I was counting on to go a long way in calming my nerves.

It seemed just like yesterday when Gemma turned fifteen and was ready to study for her driver's permit, an island tradition that dates back to the invention of the automobile when teenagers all over the area dreamed of having that coveted driver's license and the imagined freedom that goes along with it. Like driving off the island without your parents to the big city of Ellsworth, a magical land with shopping malls and fast-food chains. Or if they were really lucky, they might get all the way to Bangor with its bright lights and movie multiplexes and even bigger shopping malls with store names you've actually heard before!

I remember when my time came I was pretty darn excited. And now with my daughter on the cusp of that independence I couldn't have been happier. Finally, my daughter could drive to the store when we needed toilet paper or a bag of flour. She could fetch her brother after school, or even, although I shouldn't admit this, pick up me and my BFFs after a night on the town. Okay, let's scratch that one and forget I ever said it.

The best bonus, however, was the mother-and-daughter bonding time we could share while I took her out to practice her driving. The last person a fifteen-year-old girl wants to hang out with is her mother, but now we would have hours of time together while navigating turns and perfecting her parallel parking skills.

It didn't quite work out that way when she was finally awarded her permit. Our first drive together to the Trenton Bridge and back didn't exactly foster a bond. How could it with me pumping my feet up and down on the floorboard, screaming for her to slow down every two minutes? Or pointing out a rogue squirrel darting across the road ahead? Or grabbing the steering wheel twice and yanking it too hard to the left when I thought she was drifting across the center line?

The final straw was when we arrived in our driveway and I jumped from the car and got down on my knees and kissed the pavement. It was meant to be a little joke. But any hopes of bonding at that point were dashed. My daughter was furious.

I was ashamed of myself. I was supposed to be the “cool mom,” the one who welcomed my kid taking over the wheel during a family road trip, who loved riding shotgun with her daughter. That's who I wanted to be. So I apologized for my frayed nerves that day, chalking it up to all the day's excitement over her finally getting her permit, and begged for another chance. Thankfully she agreed.

The next morning, we tried again. Everything was fine until my daughter turned the ignition key. As the engine roared to life, I felt my stomach twist into a knot. A small bubble of panic began rising until my heart was beating twice as fast as usual.

Breathe.

Breathe.

She put the car in reverse and began backing out of the driveway. That's when I heard myself screaming, “You're too close to the lawn! Stay on the pavement! Did you even look in your rearview mirror? There's a dog in the street!”

Gemma yelled back, “I'm not even close to the lawn! Yes, I looked in the mirror! And the dog is on his own property nowhere near the street!”

It was as if I was outside my body watching this awful woman overreacting to everything.

“If you were just twelve more inches over on my side you'd be on the lawn!”

At that point, my daughter turned off the car, jumped out, and ran crying into the house wailing, “I will never drive with you again!”

Actually she did.

We tried four more times.

And we never left the driveway.

One of us would inevitably get out of the car and storm inside the house. I had to take a good look at myself and admit that I was never going to be able to ride with my daughter without turning into this shrill, panicky, obnoxious, overbearing mother. Her words, not mine.

It was time to call in the cavalry. If my daughter was ever going to be prepared for her official driver's test, she needed someone calm and understanding in the passenger's seat. That turned out to be my brother, Randy. They formed the special bond I dreamed about. And she sailed through her test with flying colors. I'm sure I will get comfortable with the idea of her driving me around soon . . . like when she turns thirty.

As for my son, his uncle Sergio has signed up for driving duty to get him prepared for his own test. We all agree I should just stay out of it. They say the definition of insanity is repeating the same action over and over expecting a different outcome. So I will not be getting in a car with one of my children anytime soon.

 

Ingredients
½ cup flour
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
2 pounds stew meat cut into one-inch
cubes
2 tablespoons canola oil
2 tablespoons butter
1 large onion, chopped
2 to 3 cloves garlic, chopped
3 carrots, thinly sliced
2 celery ribs, thinly sliced
4 cups veggie broth or you can use
water
1 bay leaf
2 teaspoons beef bouillon granules
3 cups peeled and cubed pumpkin

 

Using a large resealable plastic bag add your flour, salt, pepper. Then add your cubed stew meat a few pieces at a time and shake to coat, remove, and put on a plate until all pieces are coated.

In your Dutch oven or large heavy pot add your oil and butter until heated. Add your meat and let it brown a bit. Add your onion and garlic, and cook for about 3 minutes (do not burn garlic). Stir in the carrots and celery, broth (water), bay leaf, and bullion. Cover and simmer for 1½ hours.

Stir in pumpkin and bring to a boil, then reduce heat; cover and simmer for 30 minutes or until pumpkin and meat are tender. Discard your bay leaf.

Ladle into soup bowls and serve with some crusty bread and enjoy.

 

Ingredients
1 ounce coconut rum
½ ounce Kahlúa
¾ ounce pumpkin pie filling
2 ounces milk
Crushed graham crackers

 

Add the rum, Kahlúa, pie filling, and milk in a cocktail shaker filled with ice and shake well. Serve in an ice-filled glass rimmed with crushed graham crackers. This is the kind of spirit I want to conjure up on Halloween!