Author Regina Brett famously wrote “if baking is any labor at all, it’s a labor of love.” This afternoon, this quote couldn’t have rang more true. Weston has been asking me to make pumpkin bread for quite some time. I’ve been deflecting his request because it has been 90+ degrees outside and our favorite recipe has three cups of sugar spilt between two loaves. I’ve tried making healthier versions but frankly, they just don’t taste that good. And the one time I experimented with Splenda resulted in a chemical-tasting hot mess that I can only imagine what nuclear waste tastes like.
Because I am a 21st century mother, I try to limit the evil white (but oh so tasty) stuff consumed by my children but sometimes I wish I was a parent in the 1950’s, when baking a chocolate cake with homemade buttercream frosting was the ultimate declaration of maternal love. Nowadays, you’re considered derelict if your classroom cookies aren’t gluten-free and filled with flaxseed and carob. But this afternoon was different, I honored my son’s request and made two loaves of pumpkin bread filled with white sugar, white flour, and plain old vegetable oil. And you know what?
This bread tastes damn good. The little guy starts his last year of preschool tomorrow. He will be attending 5 days a week and participating in curriculum that rivals what I did in kindergarten 20-some-odd years ago. Our little boy is growing up. And I can’t think of a better breakfast for his first day of school – sugar, white flour, and all.