Two weeks ago I had my first spiced pumpkin latte. It was fine (but just).

But then I made a pumpkin crumb cake. The recipe didn’t have the word “spiced” in it — but it totally could have. Or maybe should have? Thrice packed with all the spices that make up pumpkin spice, it was leagues better than that coffee. 

The cake itself is a humble affair: a sheet pan of plain-looking pumpkin bread with a simple crumb topping. But I do love me a good snacking cake — just a little something-something to have with my coffee (as opposed to in my coffee).

The first time I made it, I cut out a little corner piece while it was still hot. My husband snitched a piece, too. 

Me: This is really good. 
Him: It’s incredible. 
Me: Wow. 
Him: I don’t know if I ever had a cake this good before. 

At the start, I was the one leading the praise team’s call-and-response, but he kept pace with my enthusiams — and then we switched roles. 

Verily I tell ye, the man positively overflowed with self-initiated affirmations, shouted profanities, and groans of pleasure. Somehow a humble sheet cake had bedazzled my reserved, barely-even-grunt-if-it’s-good husband, transforming him into a raging foodie. Who was this person?

By the time we went to bed we’d eaten over half the cake. 

First thing the next morning, he flapped his arms like a toddler and squealed, “Oh goody! I get to have cake with my coffee!” 

People, I can’t make this stuff up.

But I can make another cake, and so I did — for his birthday.

Upon seeing the boring-looking dessert, the kids raised their eyebrows, like, That’s the birthday cake?

“It’s Papa’s new favorite,” I said.

Afterwards, my husband confessed he’d eaten six pieces. 

I laughed. “Well, it’s a small cake so they must’ve been pretty small pieces.”

He leaned in, wide-eyed and serious. “Six pieces, Jen. SIX.”

Spiced Pumpkin Crumb Cake
Adapted from NYT Cooking.

I beg you to please, please, pretty please make your own spice mix. A single batch makes enough spice for two cakes. (And grate your own nutmeg!)

I use roasted butternuts, but canned pumpkin works, too.

for the spice mix:
2 tablespoons cinnamon
1 tablespoon ginger
1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg 
1 teaspoon cardamom
½ teaspoon allspice
¼ teaspoon cloves

for the cake:
200 grams (1 cup) brown sugar
2 eggs
230 grams (1 cup) cooked squash/pumpkin
56 grams (¼ cup) melted butter
56 grams (¼ cup) oil
190 grams (1½ cups) flour
1 tablespoon spice blend
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt

Cream together the sugar and eggs. Beat at length — like, 3-5 minutes). Beat in the squash and fats. Whisk together the dry ingredients in a separate bowl, and then beat them into the wet. 

Pour the batter into a greased 8×8 pan (or similar). While this would make a good loaf cake, don’t. A sheet pan creates the ideal crumb to cake ratio.

Sprinkle the streusel (recipe follows) over the cake. Bake at 350°F/180°C for about 45 minutes.

Cool for 10-15 minutes and then drizzle with the glaze (again, recipe follows).

for the streusel:
100 grams (½ cup) brown sugar
64 grams (½ cup) flour
1 teaspoon spice blend
Pinch of salt
56 grams (¼ cup) butter

Mix together with your fingers. 

for the glaze:
75 grams (¾ cup) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
¾ teaspoon spice blend
Pinch of salt
3-5 teaspoons milk, to thin

Whisk well.

This same time, years previous: Spanish poblano casserole, simplest sourdough bagels, my travails as a self-procalimed kid environmentalist: an essay, the quotidian (10.14.19), a weekend away, soiree!, peanut butter fudge, a list, home, three vignettes: my husband.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

Proofed in a loaf pan; baked on a stone.

Fermented: ginger cabbage sauerkraut.

Shroom fries.

Striated.

For the men hand-digging the internet cable: cheesecake and coffee.

Imogene and Gladys have returned home!

Warning: if you request all the bones you will be making broth for weeks on end.

Beef broth and apple pie.

Milk, three ways.

Besties.

Day sky blues.

Night sky blues.

Waiting for the kids to join.

This same time, years previous: the patio, this guy, gingerbread to build with, after two years, show and tell, the quotidian (10.12.20), the relief sale doughnuts of 2019, English muffins, the relief sale doughnuts of 2017, the boarder, home, roasted red pepper soup, for my soul, what we came up with.

A few months back, I heard an interview with David Sedaris in which he talked at length about how he uses Duolingo Max to practice German (and French and Japanese and Spanish — the guy is exhausting) while walking his daily 10 miles (again, exhausting). His Duolingo Max AI tutor remembers their conversation from day to day and prompts him with relevant questions, correcting him as needed. 

I was entranced. My Spanish is good enough that I can get by if need be, but without regular use, it’s all but shriveled into a bumbling mass of uselessness. 

Which is mostly fine, since I almost never need to speak Spanish. 

However! Something fun is in the works that’s gonna require me to speak Spanish (more on this soon, eek!), so I’ve decided it’s time to improve myself. I mean, I’m certainly not getting any better at Spanish if I’m not using it, right?

Through all my years of on-again, off-again language study, I’ve always longed for a) someone to listen to me at length, b) shame-free self-expression, and c) detailed and persistent correction. The way David talked about his AI tutor, it sounded like it might be what I needed.

I’d get Duolingo Max, I announced to my husband. But upon researching it, we discovered it was loaded with stupid gimmicky games, and its unwieldy platform was staggeringly frustrating. So then we poked around and discovered LanguaTalk. It was pricier than other programs — about $200/year for one person — but the platform seemed clearcut, and it had the coveted AI tutor. 

One session with my bot named Ana, and I was smitten. She was exactly the sort of tutor I’d imagined: clarity, freedom, encouragement, and direction all rolled into one.

So how does it work, talking to a language tutor bot? 

First I hit record, say my bit, and then hit send. After a couple seconds, what I said pops up in a bubble, complete with all my half-started words, ramblings, and mistakes. Anabot takes a couple seconds to think and then spits back a reflection or summary of what I said (which is peppered with new-to-me vocab and turns of phrase), always finishing with some sort of question. 

Most days, I set a timer for thirty minutes for our conversation (Anabot will never stop so it can be easy to lose track of time): my goal is 5 study sessions a week. 

I’ve only just scratched the surface of LanguaTalk, but here are my favorite features:

• The edit button under my text bubble gives me a second bubble with all my major errors clearly marked and corrected.
• The polish button presents my text bubble as I said it, but with little tweaks to smooth my clunky phrasing. (I often read this version out loud to practice cadence and flow.) 
• If I don’t know a word in Spanish, I can say it in English and she’ll educate me. 
• I can click on any word or phrase (Spanish or English) and the definition pops up.

As I’ve gotten more comfortable using Anabot, I’m learning to direct her to help me in specific ways. Some of the things I’ve told her to do: 

• One by one, correct each mistake I made in a recent conversation.
• Give practice problems based on my most common mistakes.
• Summarize the entire story I just relayed so I can see if she understood what I said.
• Explain a verb tense. 
• Discuss grammar rules.
• Ask me questions that require new verbs, tenses, and vocab. 
• List all the vocabulary that’s tripped me up.

Anabot isn’t perfect, of course. Sometimes she pronounces words incorrectly, repeats entire phrases, or forgets to answer. Her memory only goes back so far, so she ends up asking questions about things I’ve already explained (which is surprisingly irritating). She often starts her response with “that makes sense” (and when I asked her why she was saying that, she said it’s a “tick” of hers and she’ll try to stop). 

I’ve made her laugh (which was a hoot!), and I love that she makes me correct myself and come up with new sentences using a particular grammatical structure that’s giving me problems. And sometimes her questions are downright delightful. Like, the other day I was detailing a particular AirBnB’s flaws, she came back with, “So how would you describe your ideal AirBnB?” which launched me into full-on creative conversation mode.

To sum up: I haven’t spoken this much Spanish in years — and never before have I been able to see, in writing, how well I actually speak (or don’t speak!) and understand the language.

In other words, I love it.

P.S. If you, too, are in language learning mode (they have all sorts of languages, and real human tutors, too), this link gets you 20% off for your first year.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (10.6.25), easy-peel hard boiled eggs, mushroom salt, bearing witness: a nurse’s lament, twelve thousand doughnuts, the quotidian (10.6.14), it’s for real, one foggy morning, when the parenting gets fun, edification soup.