It's that time of year... when Little Girls get colds, and then after the cold, they cough and hack for a few more days. And as mothers, all we want to do is soothe that poor throat and give them a break from the nasty cough. We want them to have a chance to sleep at night (and we want to sleep, too!) That's when it gets tempting to buy an over-the-counter cough syrup.
But have you ever looked at what's in store-bought cough syrup? It's made primarily of Red Dye 40 and high fructose corn syrup. I'm not sure what moron decided that feeding our children carcinogens when they are sick would make them feel better, but I find it frustrating.
Thankfully, a friend relayed a recipe for homemade cough syrup... all natural, not all that bad-tasting, and it really, really works. My poor girl, who spent the night before last coughing and hacking through the night, slept like a baby last night, with nary a cough to be heard.
I'm sure this recipe is posted somewhere online already, but as it was passed to me verbally, I thought I'd post it here for any friends that want to give it a try.
Natural Cough Syrup
2 oz dried thyme
2 oz dried marshmallow root
1 oz dried peppermint
2 oz dried licorice root
1 oz dried wild lettuce
8 oz fresh ginger, grated
1 lb honey
2-ish quarts of water
In a large pot, boil the dry herbs and the water for about 30 minutes. I ended up adding another two cups of water because it just got too thick. Expect your whole house to smell like this boiling mixture of herbs. When my five year old looked in the pot, she said, "Ew! It's the Bog of Eternal Stench!"
When it's done boiling, let it sit until it's cool enough to strain. Ladle the herbs into squares of cheese cloth, and squeeze like heck. It's sticky, gooey, and kind of nasty looking, but that's where the good stuff is.
Once it's strained, add the 8 ounces of ginger to the pot and boil for another 10 minutes or so. Ginger is amazing stuff - will soothe a tummy, and kick a cold almost instantly.
Take the pot off the burner and stir in the honey. Yes, it uses a pound of honey. Honey coats the throat, stopping that tickle that leads to constant hacking. Once the honey is stirred in and dissolved into the liquid, strain out the ginger. Ladle the syrup into jars. I'm storing mine in the fridge... I'm not sure if that's necessary or not, but it feels safer to me.
To administer - I used a teaspoon for my five year old. It was plenty - stopped the cough in it's tracks and let her sleep soundly all night.
===
A general disclaimer: I'm not a doctor, and I can't diagnose your kid. I'm just a mom hoping to do my best by my own children, and sharing what I learn. I can't tell you if this is the best option for you or your child. Use your best judgement. If a cough persists for too long, you should seek medical advice. If you are aware of any allergies to any of these herbs, or herbs in these families, don't use them. And don't give honey to children under one year of age.
==
A note about finding the ingredients, and cost:
All of these herbs can be found in the bulk section of my local health food store. A 4 ounce bag is usually about $2. Do try to use local honey, as it is more beneficial to your body than honey farmed in China. Most stores carry fresh ginger root. One good-sized root is 4-6 ounces.
The total cost for the ingredients to make this was about $25. While that does seem expensive, do realize that it makes 3 pints of cough syrup. A bottle of herbal or homeopathic honey-based cough syrup is usually $10-12 for less than one cup. So it's actually really inexpensive to make. And if you're lucky, this will probably be enough to last the year.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Sweet Prayers
Two Little Girls have recently decided that they would like for us to hear their prayers before they go to bed at night. This is already proving to be a sweet and touching addition to our already beloved bedtime routine, adding exponentially to the smiles and fond memories each night.
Littlest One's prayer tonight:
"Dear God, thank you for Bandit. And thank you for my mom, and my dad, and my sister. And thank you for Angel, but not Little Bay because he's a punk. And thank you for Goldi (even though she is handicapped) and for Grammy and Jupiter and Matilda and Lazarus and Lavender and Tinkerbell and Freckles and Twilight (even though she runs away from me) and Penelope. And thank you for the rooster-boys (except the one with the gold neck that tried to attack my mom's foot.) And thank you for Liberty (even though she is at Ms. Kris's house being 'breaded') and for Justice and for Justice's babies that she's gonna have. And thank you for Huck, and thank you for Izzy, and thank you for Milo and for all of the barn cats, Batman, Buffy, Fluffy, Poofy, Sally, and Gabriella. And thank you for my room. But not my bathroom, because I don't live in it. Amen."
And the Oldest's:
"Dear God, thank you for my mom and dad and sister. And please make Izzy's leg better before my birthday so she can play in the snow with me on my birthday. Amen."
Don't they just warm your heart? Okay, so they aren't perfect prayers with fancy words and all of that. But it's clear that the things that matter most to these girls are very real things - their family, and their animals. Both of those things are precious, and I'm glad that they realize it. I hope they continue to thank God for these blessings, and that they never take them for granted. And I hope that, as long as they live, all it takes to satisfy their hearts are the people and the animals that they love.
Littlest One's prayer tonight:
"Dear God, thank you for Bandit. And thank you for my mom, and my dad, and my sister. And thank you for Angel, but not Little Bay because he's a punk. And thank you for Goldi (even though she is handicapped) and for Grammy and Jupiter and Matilda and Lazarus and Lavender and Tinkerbell and Freckles and Twilight (even though she runs away from me) and Penelope. And thank you for the rooster-boys (except the one with the gold neck that tried to attack my mom's foot.) And thank you for Liberty (even though she is at Ms. Kris's house being 'breaded') and for Justice and for Justice's babies that she's gonna have. And thank you for Huck, and thank you for Izzy, and thank you for Milo and for all of the barn cats, Batman, Buffy, Fluffy, Poofy, Sally, and Gabriella. And thank you for my room. But not my bathroom, because I don't live in it. Amen."
And the Oldest's:
"Dear God, thank you for my mom and dad and sister. And please make Izzy's leg better before my birthday so she can play in the snow with me on my birthday. Amen."
Don't they just warm your heart? Okay, so they aren't perfect prayers with fancy words and all of that. But it's clear that the things that matter most to these girls are very real things - their family, and their animals. Both of those things are precious, and I'm glad that they realize it. I hope they continue to thank God for these blessings, and that they never take them for granted. And I hope that, as long as they live, all it takes to satisfy their hearts are the people and the animals that they love.
Oh, deer: The Irony
Deer season came and went, without a buck to put in the freezer.
The irony of this, of course, is that the day before my hunting season started, my dog was grumbling and looking out at the driveway, where I saw a lovely little buck, just inside the driveway gate. He was just standing there, watching and listening, grazing occasionally on the long grasses along the fence. Eventually he made his way up onto our mountain, where it is clear that he disappeared into thin air for a week.
And then, after spending a week watching out every window, driving all over looking for deer, and even tromping up the mountain in eight inches of snow, wearing a skirt and carrying a rifle in a last ditch effort to find a deer, I look out the living room window the morning after hunting season ends and there's a little buck, walking along the ditch at the fence line, grazing with a couple of does. It would've been about a 25 yard shot from the balcony of my bedroom. But he was safe, hunting season was over. I'm pretty sure he knew it.
Last night though... last night takes the cake for irony. It was nearly midnight when I woke up to a sound of something banging around on the front porch. Scared the heck out of me, as no one wants to hear anything that close to their front door in the middle of the night. Our dog wasn't impressed either, and started growling and barking. Andrew got up and went to see what was going on while I looked out our bedroom window, which overlooks the porch. As he makes his way down the stairs, I watch a small herd of deer scatter off the front porch and back out the driveway. Several others followed. We went back to sleep, hearts racing after waking up in such a startling manner, only to have it happen again an hour later.
This time, I walked downstairs, turned on the porch light and looked out the window. There was a four point buck, munching away at one of the pumpkins that had been decorating the porch. He was knocking over flower pots, trying to shove his antlers into the little space where the pumpkin had fallen. I opened the door, and off he went.
Two days after hunting season ends, and I'm shooing a buck off of my front porch.
It's almost hilarious. But it would be more hilarious if I'd have had a venison steak for dinner, first.
The irony of this, of course, is that the day before my hunting season started, my dog was grumbling and looking out at the driveway, where I saw a lovely little buck, just inside the driveway gate. He was just standing there, watching and listening, grazing occasionally on the long grasses along the fence. Eventually he made his way up onto our mountain, where it is clear that he disappeared into thin air for a week.
And then, after spending a week watching out every window, driving all over looking for deer, and even tromping up the mountain in eight inches of snow, wearing a skirt and carrying a rifle in a last ditch effort to find a deer, I look out the living room window the morning after hunting season ends and there's a little buck, walking along the ditch at the fence line, grazing with a couple of does. It would've been about a 25 yard shot from the balcony of my bedroom. But he was safe, hunting season was over. I'm pretty sure he knew it.
Last night though... last night takes the cake for irony. It was nearly midnight when I woke up to a sound of something banging around on the front porch. Scared the heck out of me, as no one wants to hear anything that close to their front door in the middle of the night. Our dog wasn't impressed either, and started growling and barking. Andrew got up and went to see what was going on while I looked out our bedroom window, which overlooks the porch. As he makes his way down the stairs, I watch a small herd of deer scatter off the front porch and back out the driveway. Several others followed. We went back to sleep, hearts racing after waking up in such a startling manner, only to have it happen again an hour later.
This time, I walked downstairs, turned on the porch light and looked out the window. There was a four point buck, munching away at one of the pumpkins that had been decorating the porch. He was knocking over flower pots, trying to shove his antlers into the little space where the pumpkin had fallen. I opened the door, and off he went.
Two days after hunting season ends, and I'm shooing a buck off of my front porch.
It's almost hilarious. But it would be more hilarious if I'd have had a venison steak for dinner, first.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
"Hunting"... if it can be called that.
With the back seat of the truck filled with kids and guns, we set off this afternoon to try to find me a buck to shoot.
An hour of "Are we almost there?" and we arrive at a spot my husband deems worthy of hunting.
Two Little Girls, swimming in adult-sized blaze orange vests, hopping up and down in excitement as we tell them repeatedly, "Hush! The deer can hear you!" We get our gear together and set off down a trail.
The Man of My Dreams and I walk along side by side, guns slung over our shoulders, as our children wander around as silently as they are able. Which is, of course, not silent at all.
It's amazing how loud Two Little Girls can be when they are trying their best to be Very Quiet. The Oldest immediately gets hiccups. Littlest One whispers non-stop about every little bit of nature she sees. The Oldest tromps through every bit of mud she can find. The Littlest scuffs along in her boots, occasionally breaking out into a skip. And then she whispers to us about how quiet she is trying to be, and isn't she being so very quiet, and do we think the deer can hear her since she's being so quiet? If it is possible to whisper at the top of one's lungs, she's mastered the skill of it.
We sit after awhile, listening and looking. Littlest One curls up into a blaze orange ball in the dirt, tired from walking and enjoying a rest. The Oldest sits next to me, chewing a blade of grass and listening to the wind rush through the trees. That lasted about two and a half minutes. Then she announced, in that deafening whisper, "I'm restless." So she wanders up the trail a bit to examine a culvert where a seep of water is trickling through. Littlest One, fully rested after that two and a half minutes, sits up to scoop up handfuls of dirt and watch it trickle through her fingers. She then rolls around on the ground and rips her vest. "Oops!" she 'whispers'.
We get back in the truck and drive for awhile longer. Two Little Girls amuse themselves in the backseat by making silly noises and falling into fits of hysterical giggles that had me giggling along with them. We get out to walk again. The Oldest crunches through all the crusty, dried mud she can find. Littlest One pokes a stick into every snow bank on the side of the trail. As we turn to go back to the truck again (walking any distance is nearly impossible with two of the short-legged crowd along) they run to a fallen log and balance-beam their way across it. We arrive at the truck with two new 'walking sticks' that they toss into the bed. They will be added to the pile of walking sticks which has been acquired over the course of several years.
We give up on hiking. Two Little Girls play "statue" in the back seat. They are the noisiest, giggliest statues I have ever seen (or heard.) We proceed to drive... and drive... and drive. Bumpy, bouncy, washboard roads. Eventually they lay their heads against their windows and close their eyes.
No, we didn't find any deer. With two small children along, what we were doing could hardly be considered hunting. But it was sweet, and they had fun, and we were all together. I'm disappointed that I didn't manage to put meat on the table (yet) but there's still time, and in the meantime, we created some great memories.
And tomorrow, The Man of My Dreams and I will sit quietly on our mountain while Two Little Girls make themselves a breakfast of cold cereal and play as loudly as they wish - in the play room. Hopefully we'll have a bit more luck that way!
An hour of "Are we almost there?" and we arrive at a spot my husband deems worthy of hunting.
Two Little Girls, swimming in adult-sized blaze orange vests, hopping up and down in excitement as we tell them repeatedly, "Hush! The deer can hear you!" We get our gear together and set off down a trail.
The Man of My Dreams and I walk along side by side, guns slung over our shoulders, as our children wander around as silently as they are able. Which is, of course, not silent at all.
It's amazing how loud Two Little Girls can be when they are trying their best to be Very Quiet. The Oldest immediately gets hiccups. Littlest One whispers non-stop about every little bit of nature she sees. The Oldest tromps through every bit of mud she can find. The Littlest scuffs along in her boots, occasionally breaking out into a skip. And then she whispers to us about how quiet she is trying to be, and isn't she being so very quiet, and do we think the deer can hear her since she's being so quiet? If it is possible to whisper at the top of one's lungs, she's mastered the skill of it.
We sit after awhile, listening and looking. Littlest One curls up into a blaze orange ball in the dirt, tired from walking and enjoying a rest. The Oldest sits next to me, chewing a blade of grass and listening to the wind rush through the trees. That lasted about two and a half minutes. Then she announced, in that deafening whisper, "I'm restless." So she wanders up the trail a bit to examine a culvert where a seep of water is trickling through. Littlest One, fully rested after that two and a half minutes, sits up to scoop up handfuls of dirt and watch it trickle through her fingers. She then rolls around on the ground and rips her vest. "Oops!" she 'whispers'.
We get back in the truck and drive for awhile longer. Two Little Girls amuse themselves in the backseat by making silly noises and falling into fits of hysterical giggles that had me giggling along with them. We get out to walk again. The Oldest crunches through all the crusty, dried mud she can find. Littlest One pokes a stick into every snow bank on the side of the trail. As we turn to go back to the truck again (walking any distance is nearly impossible with two of the short-legged crowd along) they run to a fallen log and balance-beam their way across it. We arrive at the truck with two new 'walking sticks' that they toss into the bed. They will be added to the pile of walking sticks which has been acquired over the course of several years.
We give up on hiking. Two Little Girls play "statue" in the back seat. They are the noisiest, giggliest statues I have ever seen (or heard.) We proceed to drive... and drive... and drive. Bumpy, bouncy, washboard roads. Eventually they lay their heads against their windows and close their eyes.
No, we didn't find any deer. With two small children along, what we were doing could hardly be considered hunting. But it was sweet, and they had fun, and we were all together. I'm disappointed that I didn't manage to put meat on the table (yet) but there's still time, and in the meantime, we created some great memories.
And tomorrow, The Man of My Dreams and I will sit quietly on our mountain while Two Little Girls make themselves a breakfast of cold cereal and play as loudly as they wish - in the play room. Hopefully we'll have a bit more luck that way!
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Happy Halloween!
Ah yes, it's been that time of year. For the past two weeks, I have toiled in front of the sewing machine, cursing French seams in chiffon, slippery satin, and invisible zippers.
And of course, it's all worth it in the end, when I see the smiles on my daughters' faces as they don their costumes and traipse around the town begging for candy from strangers.
They are, of course, old enough to decide what they want to be. There will be no coddling or convincing or bribing for more creative costumes, like my ideas for a paper doll, or a peacock, a flapper or a robot. No, they have their own ideas, and I had to work with it. But in the end, they turned out cute, and they were thrilled with the results.
So without further ado I present....
My princess
and my ninja.
Not what I would have picked, but oh, how well suited they were for my sweet little girls.
Yes, they wore their costumes all day long as we ran errands all over The Big City. And every time someone said, "Oh, look, what a pretty princess!" (which was, you know, pretty much everyone) Littlest One would give a grand, sweeping curtsy. The Oldest lost every bit of shyness with her face covered, and talked to everyone like she's known them for years. What funny things costumes can do for children!
And now that Halloween night is officially over, the real fun begins: when Two Little Girls wear their costumes day in and day out for weeks, playing the parts of a ninja and a princess and creating every possible play scenario two little minds can come up with, providing me with hours of entertainment and therefore making all those cursed French seams worth all the work.
Here's hoping everyone had a wonderful, safe Halloween filled with much laughter, happy memories, and enough candy to last til Christmas.
**Note: To anyone who cares to see larger versions of these photos (Grandma) you can click on them for the full-size image. :-)
And of course, it's all worth it in the end, when I see the smiles on my daughters' faces as they don their costumes and traipse around the town begging for candy from strangers.
They are, of course, old enough to decide what they want to be. There will be no coddling or convincing or bribing for more creative costumes, like my ideas for a paper doll, or a peacock, a flapper or a robot. No, they have their own ideas, and I had to work with it. But in the end, they turned out cute, and they were thrilled with the results.
So without further ado I present....
My princess
and my ninja.
Not what I would have picked, but oh, how well suited they were for my sweet little girls.
Yes, they wore their costumes all day long as we ran errands all over The Big City. And every time someone said, "Oh, look, what a pretty princess!" (which was, you know, pretty much everyone) Littlest One would give a grand, sweeping curtsy. The Oldest lost every bit of shyness with her face covered, and talked to everyone like she's known them for years. What funny things costumes can do for children!
And now that Halloween night is officially over, the real fun begins: when Two Little Girls wear their costumes day in and day out for weeks, playing the parts of a ninja and a princess and creating every possible play scenario two little minds can come up with, providing me with hours of entertainment and therefore making all those cursed French seams worth all the work.
Here's hoping everyone had a wonderful, safe Halloween filled with much laughter, happy memories, and enough candy to last til Christmas.
**Note: To anyone who cares to see larger versions of these photos (Grandma) you can click on them for the full-size image. :-)
Monday, October 29, 2012
And then... they named her.
It's a known fact in the chicken-buying world that determining the gender of day-old chicks isn't a fail proof endeavor. When we bought our first batch of hens last year, it became obvious that Mrs. Tweets was actually Mr. Tweets. Ahh, Mr. Tweets. We'll never forget how pretty he was, how much fun we had with him, and later, the feeling of terror he evoked if ever we were forced to go outside.
In this year's batch of laying hens, Tinkerbell was the one who turned out to be a rooster. A teeny, tiny little rooster he is, but his attitude is good still so he's allowed to stick around. And really, it makes me giggle every time I think about the fact that we have a rooster named Tinkerbell.
What never occurred to me though, is that it is just as impossible to guarantee that a batch of roosters will actually be roosters. We got our ten meat birds, and have been butchering them as needed for dinner. But in that batch, who walk around crowing happily all day long, there was one hen. I felt awful for her - one hen in a coop with nine roosters? She was miserable, staying on the roost all day long and not even eating or drinking unless she could sneak over to the food without them seeing her. My solution was to hurry up and butcher her, get it over with so she wouldn't have to live a miserable life.
But we were too slow.
The girls figured out that she was a hen. They started carrying in separate bowls of food and water for her, hand feeding her table scraps each day, locking the roosters inside the coop so she could have daily fresh air and exercise. And then.... they named her. Rule number one, when you are raising animals to butcher - Do NOT name them!
Meet Lavender.
She has now been moved into the hen house, and it looks like she will be a permanent addition to our egg-laying flock. Except that, seeing as she was raised on high-protein food meat bird food, she's not likely to ever lay any eggs. She just walks around, towering above the rest of the hens, and frequently being carted from place to place by Littlest One. She seems happy... or at least, happy to be away from a whole flock of roosters.
Welcome to the farm, Lavender. :-)
In this year's batch of laying hens, Tinkerbell was the one who turned out to be a rooster. A teeny, tiny little rooster he is, but his attitude is good still so he's allowed to stick around. And really, it makes me giggle every time I think about the fact that we have a rooster named Tinkerbell.
What never occurred to me though, is that it is just as impossible to guarantee that a batch of roosters will actually be roosters. We got our ten meat birds, and have been butchering them as needed for dinner. But in that batch, who walk around crowing happily all day long, there was one hen. I felt awful for her - one hen in a coop with nine roosters? She was miserable, staying on the roost all day long and not even eating or drinking unless she could sneak over to the food without them seeing her. My solution was to hurry up and butcher her, get it over with so she wouldn't have to live a miserable life.
But we were too slow.
The girls figured out that she was a hen. They started carrying in separate bowls of food and water for her, hand feeding her table scraps each day, locking the roosters inside the coop so she could have daily fresh air and exercise. And then.... they named her. Rule number one, when you are raising animals to butcher - Do NOT name them!
Meet Lavender.
She has now been moved into the hen house, and it looks like she will be a permanent addition to our egg-laying flock. Except that, seeing as she was raised on high-protein food meat bird food, she's not likely to ever lay any eggs. She just walks around, towering above the rest of the hens, and frequently being carted from place to place by Littlest One. She seems happy... or at least, happy to be away from a whole flock of roosters.
Welcome to the farm, Lavender. :-)
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Freckles, the Trick Chicken
**Please pardon the awful pictures. If you've ever attempted to photograph a Chicken Show, you'll understand what a difficult undertaking it is.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
And Off She Goes!
Remember that post from earlier this summer, where I talk about my sweet, cautious kiddo walking ever-so-slowly through all the events at her 4-H gymkhana?
Heh. Yeah. Once again, she's proven to me that she is not one to be rushed, but that when she is good and ready, she can do anything she sets her mind to.
We've officially gone from, "C'mon, Chloe, trot!" to "Whoa, slow down!"
See that? She's loping! She has finally discovered what fun it is to sit astride a running horse... and now it's all she wants to do.
Yes, it makes my Mama-heart skip a beat. But it also thrills me to see her having so much fun with Angel, and to see the confidence she's gaining.
Heh. Yeah. Once again, she's proven to me that she is not one to be rushed, but that when she is good and ready, she can do anything she sets her mind to.
We've officially gone from, "C'mon, Chloe, trot!" to "Whoa, slow down!"
See that? She's loping! She has finally discovered what fun it is to sit astride a running horse... and now it's all she wants to do.
Yes, it makes my Mama-heart skip a beat. But it also thrills me to see her having so much fun with Angel, and to see the confidence she's gaining.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Fall Splendor
It's fall up here on our mountain... a little earlier than normal, even. It's amazing to think that we are so blessed to live in a place where folks come just to look at the colors of the trees. Our little piece of paradise is surrounded on all sides by hills and mountains just covered in golden aspen and red oak. Truly, a glorious view.
But we decided to go for a drive the other day, and immerse ourselves in the colors of fall. And it was beautiful.
This whole country is covered in fall splendor right about now, but my Colorado heart is certain there is nothing more beautiful than mountain after mountain glowing with aspen.
Happy Fall, everyone!
But we decided to go for a drive the other day, and immerse ourselves in the colors of fall. And it was beautiful.
This whole country is covered in fall splendor right about now, but my Colorado heart is certain there is nothing more beautiful than mountain after mountain glowing with aspen.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Pumpkin Spice Cream of Wheat
My kids were starting to get a little jealous of my homemade pumpkin spice latte habit. They kept asking if they could have one too, and while I try to be a pretty nice mom, I'm not nice enough to give them coffee first thing in the morning. (Or ever. Just to be clear on that.)
As they were staring longingly beside me as I whisked up the pumpkin and the spice and the cream, I had a little idea. And it was a good idea. One good enough that I think it's worth sharing.
Pumpkin Spice Cream of Wheat.
It's a super-fast, super-simple hot breakfast for a chilly fall day. And it helps with the guilt of those delicious lattes every morning. This recipe makes two servings, and takes about five minutes to prepare.
In a sauce pan, make your cream of wheat as directed. I actually use Bob's Red Mill wheat farina. It's 2 cups of water to 1/2 cup wheat, boiled for a minute or two. I usually add 1/4 tsp of salt to the cereal as it cooks.
When it's done, remove it from the heat and add:
1 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. pumpkin puree
2-3 Tbsp. brown sugar
1/2 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
Mix it all together well. Spoon into bowls, then top with a bit of half & half and a sprinkle of nutmeg.
Okay, so I'm not a food photographer, and this doesn't look very pretty. But it's really, really good. I promise.
As they were staring longingly beside me as I whisked up the pumpkin and the spice and the cream, I had a little idea. And it was a good idea. One good enough that I think it's worth sharing.
Pumpkin Spice Cream of Wheat.
It's a super-fast, super-simple hot breakfast for a chilly fall day. And it helps with the guilt of those delicious lattes every morning. This recipe makes two servings, and takes about five minutes to prepare.
In a sauce pan, make your cream of wheat as directed. I actually use Bob's Red Mill wheat farina. It's 2 cups of water to 1/2 cup wheat, boiled for a minute or two. I usually add 1/4 tsp of salt to the cereal as it cooks.
When it's done, remove it from the heat and add:
1 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. pumpkin puree
2-3 Tbsp. brown sugar
1/2 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
Mix it all together well. Spoon into bowls, then top with a bit of half & half and a sprinkle of nutmeg.
Okay, so I'm not a food photographer, and this doesn't look very pretty. But it's really, really good. I promise.
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