Not a pub post. Barely a food post. But certainly a Pumpkin post.

Flatmate returned from a trip to France at the weekend with a pumpkin carved into a Jack’O’Lantern. It was after all Halloween (and therefore along with fifty percent of the childless population I was siting in the house with the light out*). Apparently the flesh of said punpkin had been turned into a foul soup and an even fouler orangey ratatouille. Nevermind, they popped a tealight in and the thing grinned merrily on top of the TV. Except after half an hour there was a slight wisp of smoke coming from it.

After investigation it became clear that whilst out of the fire directly, the lip of the pumpkin had been charring nicely. The smell was cooked, charred pumpkin. And it smelt lovely.

*Some Trickletreators had caught me early as my stockpot was merrily bubbling and I was the subject of much derision handing out a few rather soft Rich Tea biscuits.