Every once in a while I receive an email asking if I'll ever create a recipe book of the foods found in Gravesville. Eh, probably not. I like my readers and prefer not to subject them to stomach viruses. I did, however, write a post a while ago that for whatever reason never went live. So here's Eve talking about one of her favorite Gravesvillian recipes: hot pumpkin.
Eve: Thank you, writer person. As you probably know, my all time favorite drink in the cold weather is hot pumpkin. Now, this is a recipe that's been passed down for like hundreds of years in my family, so let's just keep this between you and me, okay?
RG: Um, Eve. You know this is going on the internet, right? A lot of people are probably going to see it.
Eve: I don't interrupt you when you're doing your guest post thingies, do I? And somebody should, because you try to act all important like, Oh, look at me, I'm an author. It's really embarrassing.
RG: I just wanted to warn you.
Eve: Anyway, before I was interrupted … oh yeah. So, to make a really good hot pumpkin, you need a cauldron, preferably heated with green fire … because it looks perfectly horrible at night --Why are you looking at me like that, Mr. Grown.
RG: It's Gray. Robert Gray. And I just wanted to let you know we don't have green fire in our world. Cauldrons are pretty hard to find, too.
Eve: Fine, then be boring and use a regular pot and a stove. Next, take some goblin milk, about 3 cups--What!
RG: We don't have goblin milk here, either. We use regular milk. From cows.
Eve: Cows? Really? That's adorable! Well, use whatever milk you have and pour it into your boring pot and put the boring fire on medium until your disgusting milk starts to simmer. Then, add your pumpkin, but make sure it's not alive, because--Okay, now what?
RG: You stuff a whole pumpkin into the pot?
Eve: Of course not. You melt it first. I thought everyone knew that.
RG: Yeah, I think maybe a can of pumpkin puree would work better.
Eve: So do you want to finish my family's secret recipe, or should I?
Eve: Then, pour in the pumpkin and add in your spices. Most of them can be found in your local graveyard, but--Oh, my Jack, now what?
RG: Nothing. Keep going.
Eve: Then add chunks of chocolate. I like white chocolate for mine, particularly from Treats n' Treats, but I suppose you can use whatever chocolate you can find. About ten pounds should do the trick.
RG: She means about six ounces.
Eve: Did I say six ounces? No. I said ten pounds. You can never have enough chocolate. But it's only my family recipe. What do I know? So after you add all the ingredients, mix it up real good until the chocolate is melted. Then, pour the mix into a giant mug and finish it off with a huge scoop of whipped cream. You can even add more chocolate shavings on top of the whipped cream, which is how I like mine, but it's totally up to you.
RG: And there you have it, folks, Eve's no-longer-secret hot pumpkin recipe.
Eve: You just had to get the last word in, didn't you? You're impossible.