Butternut Squash Biscuits

Small town life is growing on me. Though I've only lived here for two months, it feels longer. The town is modest, with only a few main roads, so getting around has been simple. I've settled in quickly, my new job as a high school teacher introducing me to a hundred fresh names and faces. In fact, lately it seems I can scarcely leave the house without running into a familiar face.

Familiarity is comfort.

Last weekend I went to buy groceries as I do each week, pulling items off shelves and gathering them in my red basket. As I approached the checkout, the woman working greeted me, complimenting me on how my hair always seems to be in place, no matter the day. As my basket emptied, she stopped on a lone chocolate bar, pointing out how she always seems to find one buried in my basket. Good for you, she said. You know how to treat yourself.

Our society has become so anonymous, it feels strange to be recognized. To be a friendly face and to have a story, even if it is as simple as my love for dark chocolate.

Since the advent of fall and all its cool weather, I've gravitated towards hearty dinners. A recent choice includes butternut squash mash, smoked sausage, and roasted mushrooms. After dining on it for two consecutive days, I decided it needed a new component, lest I grow tired of my new favorite. Instead of turning the entire squash into a mash, I saved a little of the puree and made biscuits.

Seasonal and spiced, the flavor melded well with my dinner. With a spread of cream cheese, an old mealtime favorite turned into something new.

Butternut Squash Biscuits bring the taste of autumn to the traditional biscuit. Pureed butternut squash puree is mixed into biscuit dough and seasoned with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. The lightly sweetened biscuits have a savory flair, pairing well with comfort food such as soups and potato dishes. For tall and flaky biscuits, follow these biscuit tips and tricks!

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Classic Apple Pie

I have forgotten the smell of leaves. This is an admission of which I am not proud. I've been so focused on myself and my new job lately that I haven't taken time to really enjoy the world around me. With winter fast approaching, I feel like there is less time to appreciate this unique time of year.

Each day I see less of the sun. This week I arrived to work in the dark, the sun below the horizon, the sky a fading grey. The view outside my living room window has turned into a noisy and abrasive construction site. I cannot even see anything green—no grass, no trees, no leaves. The changing of the autumn colors feels completely hidden from me. I feel out of touch with the season.

This weekend I had plans to stay indoors and work, when my boyfriend told me to put down the books. We're going outside, he instructed me. You need some fresh air. He was right. I had not spent any real time outdoors for months. We packed ourselves into the car, granola bars in the console, camera bags at our feet. We found a state park near my new town, parked the car, and went exploring.

The air was crisp, yet holding onto a little warmth from earlier in the season. The ground was damp and soft, smelling rich and earthy from a morning rain. The leaves didn't crunch beneath my heels, but being surrounded by the vibrant colors was plenty for me. We walked the winding trails, overlooking lakes and small valleys. It was a source of rehabilitation for me, a calm moment in the whirlwind that is life.

Though I adore it, I have had apple pie only once or twice in my life. My first bite was at fourteen years old, sitting in a neighbor's kitchen, the reward for raking up a yard full of leaves. A dusting of stray leaves were left on the deck and the afternoon sun was golden, vivid details of a quiet moment. It seems such a chance memory now, remnants of a childhood past, but it has nevertheless stayed with me. And that pie, that pie has stayed with me too.

After returning home, pulling off shoes, and unbuttoning coats, I felt a new energy within me. Returning to the kitchen, I channeled it, creating the pie that happened upon my memories. Perhaps the best baking comes from outside inspiration.

This Classic Apple Pie will stand the test of time, but rarely last longer than an afternoon. Apples are peeled and sliced, coated with cinnamon and spice, and mounded freely into a pie plate. Depending on the sweetness of your apples, you can add more or less brown sugar, but I found that 1/2 cup was enough for my slightly sweet apples. Brushed with egg and a dusting of sugar before baking, the crust comes out golden and flaky. Serve with family and friends, to warm your home, and to create memories to share.

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Apple Cinnamon Pancakes

When my morning alarm makes itself heard, I roll out of bed without grace, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Some mornings I move faster than others, but the result is always the same. The sky is still dark when I awake, making it feel more like winter than fall. I turn on a few lights, soft and dim, to gradually awaken my mind that is half here and half in dreamland. I begin the process of preparing myself for a new day, ever conscious of the hands moving on the clock.

I'm learning to become a morning person.

I appreciate mornings after the fact, when I am awake, the sun is up, and the world is buzzing. I'm trying to change this mentality, to roll out a welcome mat when the beep of my alarm clock signals another day. To wake up earlier so I can be more relaxed and less mindful of the minutes on the clock. To wish the sun a good morning when it begins its ascent into the clouds instead of cursing it as it shines directly into my eyes on my drive to work.

I wonder if these wishes aren't too big—after all, it's hard to transform a night owl into a chipper morning lark.

Weekend mornings, on the other hand, I have down just right. In fact, these calm moments at the beginning of the day, when I have nowhere to go and no one to be. I roll out of bed with grace, taking my time with every task, both big and small. Last weekend, I made myself a stack of pancakes. Cooked individually on the stove, one at a time, I let myself run on pancake time. Topped with cooked apples and maple syrup, I sat in my pajamas and watched the minutes tick by, knowing that today those minutes meant little to nothing to me.

If pancakes won't help me become a morning person, I don't know what will.

Apple Cinnamon Pancakes complete the autumnal weekend brunch. The pancakes are spiced and made with apple cider to add a fall flavor palette. Before serving, the pancakes are topped with cinnamon apples cooked down in a cider until soft, yet firm. With a drizzle of maple syrup, these pancakes take morning to the next level.

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