Another fall holiday, another ode to eating. Thanksgiving wasn’t as worrisome as Halloween and all its sugary sweets, but the excess of pumpkin pie, sweet potato casserole and all things starchy was difficult to get through, too. But rather than bemoan the day’s gluttony, I’ll give thanks instead.
Most of all, I’m thankful for my husband, my partner in and out of the kitchen, who makes our diet explorations and attempts at alleviating autism possible. Without his culinary expertise, my kids and I would be stuck with some pretty dull dishes as even the simplest of cooking tasks elude me.
“You need to separate the yolks,” Jason informed me as I stood at the counter, egg gingerly in hand the day before Thanksgiving. I was going to try to make GAPS-legal pumpkin bread, out of pumpkin, ground up nuts and eggs.
My upper lip curled as I tried to gather the courage to crack open the shell. Yes, courage. For one thing, I’m always afraid I’ll smash the shell too hard and end up with a fistful of gooey, raw egg (this has never happened). For another, I’m afraid I’ll drop bits of shell into the bowl (this usually happens, especially with cage-free, organic eggs). I’m also afraid of the icky white slime inside and how queasy it makes me feel.
“Do you want me to do it for you?” Jason finally asked.
He swiftly tapped the egg against the bowl and showed me, for the hundredth time, how to cup the yolk inside one half of the broken shell while the white oozes its way to the bowl.
“Gross,” I said. I couldn’t help it. “It looks like snot. How can you stand getting it on your hands?”
“Because I know it’s not snot,” Jason said.
“Yeah, it’s worse—it’s the goop that surrounds babies in utereo.”
“So it’s beautiful,” Jason said, cracking a smile. “It’s life-giving.”
“It’s disgusting. And it still looks like snot.”
Honestly, where would we be without Jason?
The pumpkin bread turned out so-so. It tasted, of course, like pumpkin, which tastes nothing at all like pumpkin pie or pumpkin lattes or pumpkin beer or any of my old fall favorites. Logan liked it, never having had fake pumpkin, and I actually came around to it, too, after a few bites.
Better were the fake mashed potatoes I made (no eggs or yucky stuff to deal with!) out of cauliflower. They felt light and fluffy and tasted like butter. I loved them, though Logan didn’t.
Unfortunately, despite my best efforts to stay strictly GAPS this Thanksgiving, we just felt too bad for Logan not getting to indulge. And we allowed him a piece of pumpkin pie. I cheated, too, with pie and paid for it the next couple of days – my stomach felt irritated, and my body felt sluggish. I wonder if Logan also feels this way when he has a bit of sugar.
He must, as the sugar and the excitement wreaked havoc on that evening and the next couple days through increased meltdowns—both screaming and uncontrollable silliness. But still, I am grateful for how few the outbursts are these days and how incredible my little boy is.
Mashed Cauliflower (from Against All Grain)
- 5 cloves garlic, unpeeled (we used eight or nine)
- 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- 1 head cauliflower
- 1/4 cup almond milk
- 3 tbsp ghee
- 1 1/2 tsp sea salt
- Dash of black pepper
Preheat oven to 425 degrees F and roast garlic, drizzled with olive oil and covered, for 15 minutes. In the mean time, trim the cauliflower into florets and steam for about 10 minutes. Drain and place in food processor. When the garlic is done, squeeze the cloves out of their skins and add to food processor with all the other ingredients. Whip until smooth.