Jack-O-Lanterns.

Pumpkin carving with some stellar uncles and friends.







I chose a white pumpkin this year. Tried for some art nouveau floral patterns - looked a bit more like flames in the end.

Happy Halloween.

Colette monkey




Marguerite witch

Pumpkins.

We took some friends and flew from the city in search of a pumpkin patch today (at the very last minute - the eve of Halloween). The wind was biting and cold, but the hay ride and tractors were still running and we found our pumpkins.





Marguerite is now an expert pumpkin carver. Last year, she still agreed with her dad when he said the guts of the pumpkin smelled bad. This year, her tune matched mine. She loved it. Pumpkin guts smell like childhood.







Our friends agreed more with Xavier (since they are French and this was their first time carving pumpkins), but soon enough, their hands were slimy and they were loving it. François even took on the seed-separater post.



Marguerite took a break outside to take a phone call (where it was quieter). It was her doudou's cousin on the line (doudou is the small white piece of fabric she is often featured carrying around). Doudou's cousin wanted to know if she could come by for Christmas. Marguerite was giving the address. Doudou's cousin also wanted to make sure Marguerite knew that she is still too little for cereal, even without milk and that at the moment, she is ill.



I took out the drill at some point and made a polk-a-dot pumpkin.









Xavier thinks that all of our pumpkins resemble their creators. The little one is Mlle.'s, who drew the face and we obediently cut (the cross nose and all). Xavier's is the demonic smiling one (carved very precisely, a la Xavier). François and Elizabeth win the best pumpkin award - and it was their first go.

Jacques-O-Lantern.

Halloween and Jack-O-Lantern carving with my favorite Frenchies this week. Louise and Jules had never carved a pumpkin before, so they were elated/skeptical/in wonder when Marguerite and I showed up having lugged this 7 kg citrouille in a backpack on the metro (Marguerite was supportive with her words and by being a very nice girl with no tantrums).



Marie inspects our pumpkin.



The kids are ready with their spoons. Here, they are still not sure what use these spoons will be, since they don't have any idea what is inside the pumpkin. I was so excited to crack the chapeau open and show them the gunk inside.



All hollowed out.











Marie and Louise washed and got the seeds ready for baking and loved the salty outcome.



Now we are in New York for the next week. We'll spend Halloween in Provincetown on Cape Cod = lucky us. We'll see lots and lots of Jack-O-Lanterns about.

Jack-O-Lantern

This post is officially dedicated to Layla, my wonderful student who found a pumpkin for me in Paris, bought it and dragged it all the way to class to give it to me. I was so happy and tonight I carved it with my two little Frenchies who had never carved a pumpkin before...



First, the Frenchies regarded the pumpkin with disdain when we lifted its little carved hat, horrified by what they saw and smelled inside. To me, it is a divine smell. Pumpkin gunk. I love it.





Then, I spent some time explaining exactly how a pumpkin is properly gutted and carved. Marguerite didn't really get it until we cut the first triangle eye. Then she started liking the whole jack-o-lantern idea. Voilà.



Now, the pumpkin sits on the table, shining its yellow light on Marguerite as she eats (who is mainly just interested in blowing out the candles inside).



Here I am, typing away at my little desk (rust free, I might add - look), and I overhear this little interchange between Xavier and Marguerite and I can't stop laughing, I am almost crying:

Xavier: Les Italiens sont des voleurs de poule...et Martha My Dear - c'est une chanson des Beatles. On adore les Beatles. Martha dans la chanson, c'est une femme - comme Martha Stewart; (pause) elle est un homme en fait.

Marguerite: Non!

Translation

Xavier (in a sing-song teaching voice): Italians are chicken thieves...and "Martha My Dear" is a Beatles song (playing in the background). We love the Beatles. Martha in the song is a woman - like Martha Stewart; (pause) actually, she is a man.

Marguerite: Non! (exclaimed in immediate disagreement with a breath of laughter behind)