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No, I didn’t cop out and try to skip a few weeks, hoping you wouldn’t notice. It turns out that The Bump is the one responsible for misleading and misrepresenting the fruit/veg of the week. They show only the papaya for weeks 22-24, inclusive. Apparently, at this point in the pregnancy, gestational real estate is getting tight. It’s a seller’s market, really, and the fetuses are locking in a bidding war not only with each other, but also with my bladder, my lungs, the rest of my internal organs, and the outer limitations of my flesh. So, there not being much womb to grow, they’re just growing at a slower pace than before. Average size is also a range, probably corresponding to a median size.
When I finally went to the market and picked up 2 papayas and held them next to my bulging abdomen, it didn’t make any sense. They were just too big. I began to think I had picked up freakishly large papayas. So I measured one when I brought it home:
Seriously, there are two of these inside me?
And then I double-checked The Bump: 10.5-11.8 inches. As Marisa Tomei says in “My Cousin Vinny”: Dead on Balls Accurate. My only way of rationalizing the number of inches is to consider that babies are now (post week 21) measured head -to-toe, not crown-to-rump, and they’re all curled up in fetal position. They’re not all stretched out, like my papayas. Except when they start kicking my ribs and punching bladder. Then, I’m not so sure.
If you've never had the pleasure of cracking open a papaya, this is what it looks like. Orange flesh filled with caviar.
Mr. Apron set at once trying to taste the caviar-like seeds. I convinced him his talents were more useful in trying to extract the seeds. He did this by sticking his fingers down its throat and making it vomit into the sink. Now we have a bulimic papaya.
Nasty, dude.
All kidding aside, we did actually set out to make papaya pie.
All the beautiful ingredients laid out. Here’s what we used to make
Papaya Pie:
- 1/2 cup light brown sugar
- 1/4 cup granulated white sugar
- 2 cups (about 1 medium papaya) fresh papaya cut into 1-inch cubes
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
- 1/8 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1 large egg, beaten
- 1 9-inch graham cracker pie crust
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350 F.
Whisk together brown sugar and white sugar. Add papayas and toss to coat. Let rest for 10 minutes.
Place papayas with its juices in a heavy saucepan. Simmer 10 minutes. Stir in cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and salt. Continue to cook about another 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until fruit is softened, but not falling apart.
Remove papaya mixture from the heat and let cool until lukewarm. Stir in beaten egg with a large fork until well-combined, taking care to leave the fruit in chunks.
Pour papaya filling into graham cracker pie crust. Bake for about 45 minutes. Let papaya pie cool before serving.
Maybe our papaya was not so juicy. Maybe we weren’t super vigilant about those 10 minutes of simmering. Whatever the case, the mixture started like this:
Then cooked into this:
And somehow, it solidified a bit much in the process, thus resulting in this concoction, which had to be scraped in blobs from the saucepan:
mmmmm, tasty.
Mr. Apron does not approve.
Somehow we managed to literally scrape together enough of the vlonk (c) and dump it into the pie crust. On the whole, not really edible looking, we thought, but you be the judge:
Since we suffer for our art (and our blog), the Papaya Pie had to be eaten, preferably buried under a blanket of ice cream. In truth, it was not so bad, but not our most successful venture to date.
Mmmm, ice cream blanket.
Now what to do with the other half a papaya in the fridge???
We were in Ireland as I passed the half-way point in this pregnancy. We were, on that particular Saturday, surrounded by a bus full of mostly Australian tourists as we were herded from Emerald highlight to Emerald highlight, from sheep to cliff, from medieval town to rock wall, from green pasture to yet another green pasture. The Japanese gentleman on our tour, reflecting on his impressions about the country, pulled out his phrasebook, thumbed purposefully, and settled on the succinct, “monotony.” But in our hotel room that night, whatever time it truly was on the East Coast of the United States, we paused to be grateful we have made it this far, and that the babies’ growth seemed to be evident in my bulging abdomen.
My books told me I might feel kicking around 17/18 weeks, but those markers passed without anything definitively Kick feeling. I have always felt little twinges and cramps, but attributed them to the increased size of my womb, and its resulting displacement of just about all my internal organs. I even asked my mother what first kicks felt like, and she responded with a resoundingly noncommittal, “You’ll just know.”
My therapist asked on Friday if I’d felt anything yet, and I responded honestly in the negative. She seemed surprised, and probed further, asking if I’d gently pushed on my belly and felt anything externally. Well, that evening we tried to use Mr. Apron’s stethoscope to find heartbeats, without much luck, and I sat on the couch relaxing in that typical pregnant woman pose, hand resting gently on top of my belly. I found my pulse, of course — as my circulation grows ever more impressive, I’m positively throbbing with heartbeats — but I also felt a distinctly non-rhythmic movement. A kick for sure! Since Friday they have not let up, having a riotous time in spurts and jolts. They seem to particularly enjoy kicking right at the top of my belly. I was finally able to help Mr. Apron feel it, too. Feeling a kick, I sensed they were feeling active, so I grabbed his hand and rested it — just so — on my stomach. Lo and behold, his pupils dilated and fixed on my belly. He had felt it, too.
Today, my doctor confirmed that twins, and first pregnancies in general (technically, because of our miscarriage, this is my 2nd pregnancy, but my body never really stretched with our first-trimester loss, so I guess it doesn’t “count” in this sense?) will be later to feel kicks.
And there you have it.
To celebrate seeing our little 1-lb wonders on the ultrasound screen this morning, I will regale you with our celebratory breakfast, baked with the help of my sister and husband. This is originally a banana bread, since the fetuses are the length of bananas this week. I had previously found that this recipe converts very easily to muffins, and muffin papers mean no greasing loaf pans, nor cutting out parchment paper, so muffins it was. I also added chocolate chips because Mr. Apron will eat anything for breakfast if it has chocolate in it. I love this recipe as it doesn’t taste like bananas. Many banana breads use 3-4 bananas, which I’m sure makes for a moist bread, but also a very banana-y one. Mine only uses about 2 bananas — perfect for banana haters.
Banana Bread
2 c. flour 1tsp baking powder ½ tsp baking soda ½ tsp salt 1 c. sugar ½ c. butter 1 egg 1 c. mashed overripe banana (about 2) 5 Tbsp milk ½ c. chopped walnuts (opt.) 1 c. milk choc. chips (opt.)
Sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. In a large bowl, cream sugar and butter. Beat the egg slightly and mix into the creamed mixture with the bananas. Mix in sifted ingredients until just combined. Stir in milk and nuts/chocolate chips. Spread batter into one greased and floured 9×5 loaf pan or scoop into 18 muffin papers. Bake at 350 for one hour until top is brown and cracks along the top (for the loaf) or 20 minutes until toothpick tester comes out clean (for the muffins).
Cooling on the rack, not knowing what fate awaits them.
Watch out, little muffin!
Evidently, when babies get to be nineteen weeks of gestation, they turn into mangos.
One fetal representation.
Who knew, right?
Well, we know, because we compulsively research what size fruit our parasites/twinners/aliens are each week, because, clearly we have nothing better to do, even though we have cable.
In honor of the mango-esque nature of the babies, we decided, this week, to create a delicious, nutritious, apoplectic, intransigent, thoroughly fibrous smoothie.
Mangos are notoriously challenging to dissect, but, with the aid of a set of Ginsu knives, a complete mortician’s tool kit, the Jaws of Life, and an 18th Century Samurai sword belonging to one of the 47 Ronin, we were able to accomplish the task with minimal difficulty.
Skinned alive. NOT a fetal representation.
Following a recipe I stole modified from Ben & Jerry’s when I worked there one summer, I began with 8oz juice (some cran-blend).
I am juice.
I then added the mango chunks and some frozen raspberries (eliminates the need for ice).
Oooh, pwetty!
And blended it together. Then I remembered there was a partially decaying perfectly ripe banana on the counter, and I tossed it in.
Whirrrr...
"Don't forget me or you'll get fruit flies on the counter!"
Finally, I added a few scoops of sorbet. This was how we could justify $3.50 or $4.00 at B&J’s — we used their sorbet. It makes it super cold and smooth.
The secret ingredient.
When it was all mixed up, we poured it into the appropriate serving vessel: mixed drink classes from the 1950s.
The smoothies accompanied a delectable and eclectic breakfast.
With homemade (not our home) bagels and zucchini bread.
As I mentioned earlier in the post, the smoothies, though delicious with delicate fruity overtones, were somewhat fiber-heavy, due to the inclusion of an entire mango. After his first yeoman’s gulp, Mr. Apron declared, with customary tact, that it was “like drinking a sweater.”
I wasn’t able to take a sip without a remark about its “cable-knit” quality.
A recipe borrowed from my preschool mentor teacher, who made this as a mid-morning snack for the preschoolers every year. A snack that had me hooked.
1) Peel yams/sweet potatoes/whatever they have at the ACME.
2) Using the largest butcher knife/cleaver in your collection, hack into those tubers. Cut them into bite-size chunks, or steak fry shapes, or, as Mr. Apron chose to do this time, circles.
3) Toss the chunks/fries/circles liberally with olive oil and kosher salt.
4) Spread on a cookie sheet. Roast in the oven at 375 degrees, checking and flipping at 20 minutes.
Observe the Caramelizing Goodness
Depending on size/shape, they may take 35-45 minutes total.
5) Enjoy. Serve with ketchup, barbecue sauce, ranch dressing, or plain!
Served with a veggie quesadilla
When you read that your fetuses have approached onion size, it makes sense that your last pair of shorts are fitting only by hanging onto your hips by the narrowest of margins, drooping suggestively below the belly bump.
What do you need? Fried food. What better to consume on a 100 degree day? Onion rings, made with the kitchen air-conditioner (c. 1980) doing its best to combat the golden fried heat emanating from the stove-top. Having no ready recipe (bread some onions in some batter, fry them), I found something that used only ingredients we had on hand. It’s a good a way as any to choose a recipe.
Onion Rings
from cooks.com
3/4 c. cornstarch
1/4 c. flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/2 c. water
1 egg, beaten
Mix dry ingredients; add water and egg. Batter will be thin. Dip onion rings in the batter and deep fry.
Aside from not having a deep fryer, so the bottoms became a little discolored (not burned, just not aesthetically restaurant style), we both decided these were some of the best onion rings we had ever eaten. The batter didn’t dry out, and, more important, it didn’t separate from the onion part entirely when we bit into it. I hate that. You’re left with a mouthful of onion, and an empty shell of batter, which is just not the same as having both flavors combined in one glorious bite. I was a little skeptical of adding the egg and water to the dry ingredients, as, when I fry battered things, I’m used to dipping in the egg, then in the batter. But it totally worked. And only seemed to get better as the cornstarch had a chance to thicken (I’m guessing).
Here are some in-process pics to whet your appetite!
Onions, all sliced and ready for the fry-o-later.
Mr. Apron prepares for his duties as fry cook with a little cheese stick pre-gaming.
The appetizing batter, resembling a large bowl of baby vomit.
I dip, I drip, I pose in my apron.
Mr. Apron wields his mighty Fry Fork.
The first batch!!
The obligatory foodie pic, piled onto a BBQ "chicken" sandwich.
And I bet you thought it was going to be guacamole! I thought so, too, truthfully. I told a coworker/friend of my weekly baby bump recipe, and he, being an avid cook/baker, all but hijacked avocado week. I’m lucky I was invited to his apartment to eat the things. As such, I played no hand in making them, but I did get to taste. And I am providing a recipe (though is it the right one? who knows…). Given the simplicity of the ingredients, I imagine one recipe is not too different from the next.
Avocado Popsicles
(from yumsugar.com)
1 large avocado
1/4 cup coconut milk
1/4 cup cream
1/4 cup sugar
pinch of salt
(He used regular milk in place of the coconut milk. I think I would try it with coconut milk (or soy milk) next time, to cut down on the lactose issues. But I digress.)
Using a hand mixer, blend all of the ingredients until creamy. Fill popsicle molds with the avocado mixture and place in the freezer for at least 5 hours.
Seriously, that’s it. I would recommend making sure you have plenty of freezer time, as we had a cracking hard time getting these suckers to release from their molds. Here are some in-progress shots of the consumption process.
Attempt 1: Submerging the molds in hot water.
Attempt 2: Running the molds under hot water.A popsicle, "plated". Not shown: scraping the thing out of its mold with a knife and reassembling it on the plate.
A popsicle, "plated". Not shown: scraping the thing out of its mold with a knife and reassembling it on the plate.
Oh, wait. There's the knife. And a mangled popsicle.
Finally, preparing to enjoy!
- I eat it.
Though Mr. Apron was not a tremendous fan, I quite enjoyed the creamy sweetness that was quite unexpected.
Stay tuned for next week: onions!
Ready for the pregnancy bake-off?
This week, week 15, my fetuses are said to be the length of navel oranges. Accordingly, I borrowed a cookbook from a friend (as my mother’s orange marmalade bread is dry, and who wants to buy orange marmalade just to bake bread?), and we baked:
Indian River Sweet Orange Bread
from Maitta Heatter’s “Book of Great Desserts”
4 c. flour 1T plus 1t baking powder 1/2 t baking soda 1t salt 3 large oranges (but you may use as many as 5 or 6), to yield 1 1/3 c. juice 1 1/2 c. sugar 1/3 c. water 3 T butter 3 eggs opt: 1 c nuts: walnuts or pecans (Ed. I did not add any nuts)Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour 2 9×5 loaf pans.
Everything out and ready! Hello oranges!
Sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in large mixing bowl and set aside.
With a vegetable peeler, remove just the brightly-colored outer rind (not the white part underneath) of 2/12 oranges and reserve it. Do this in long, thin strips if you can. Cut the strips into long slivers. Squeeze the oranges. You will need 1 1/3 c. of juice. Set aside.
Place the rind, sugar, and water, into a large, heavy saucepan. Stir over high heat until sugar is dissolved and mixture comes to a boil (Ed. Only the edges may start bubbling). Reduce heat to moderate and let mixture boil without stirring for 5 minutes. (Ed. this will look like sea foam.)
-
It begins to boil
-
Orange sea foam!
Remove from heat. Add butter and stir to melt. Stir in the orange juice. Beat the eggs lightly and stir them in. Pour this over the sifted dry ingredients and stir until dry ingredients are thoroughly moistened.
Smell it. Go on, you know you want to...
Turn into prepared pans. Shake/tap to level batter. Bake 40-45 minutes (Ed. Recipe says 55min-1hour, but I found they were quite done at 40 min) or until a cake tester comes out dry.
Cool in pans about 10 minutes before removing to racks to finish cooling.
All done!
Serving suggestions include applying butter or cream cheese to toasted bread, or serving plain. It smelled so good, and Mr. Apron didn’t want to befoul it with any sort of spread, so we ate it plain, slightly warm. Very moist and delicious.
Stay tuned next week — we are entering avocado territory. Thank goodness they’re in season!
As a member of thebump.com, I am treated not only to weekly updates on fetal development, reviews of the hottest $600 strollers, and inane messages on the chat boards (can I paint my nails when I’m pregnant?), but also to a fruit-size comparison. Every week, I can see which fruit’s length corresponds to my fetuses’ crown –to-rump length. And then I know what type of fruit is nesting inside me.
Last week, in honor of the twin lemons within my womb, Mr. Apron and I baked lemon nut bread. Only, we didn’t have walnuts, and I put them in cupcake tins, so Mr. Apron could take them to work on the weekend. They weren’t the most beautiful creations. Instead of rising and making pretty little mounds on the top, they exploded over the edge of the tin, but with enough lemon glaze, you wouldn’t even look at their aesthetics as you let the sugary lemony goodness melt in your mouth.
This week, my parasites are the size of navel oranges. I thought since I’m a baking sort of person, and I’m currently baking two buns in my personal oven, why not keep up with my fruit-of-the-week and inspire a confection of the week? I may even take pictures in the future.
Thus is conceived the weekly bake-a-thon!
And no, I have not yet been offered a book deal, but I will negotiate with the right agent.
SLiPs of the Tongue 