Friendship Pumpkin Soup

My friend Michelle gave me two whole sugar pie pumpkins a few weeks ago. Michelle is a gardener and a foodie, and a generous one too. She dropped them off on the way to her wine and food pairing class (she’s a wino like me, we met working at NHJ winery) and in an ironic exchange I gave her two gluten-free pumpkin raisin muffins made with pumpkin from a can. Poor girl, goodness knows it wasn’t a fair trade, but I just had to give her something for her generosity.

They are two beautiful, perfectly round, basketball orange gourds. So pretty I didn’t want to use them right away – why would I do that when I have nary a piece of seasonal décor in our little house? I put one on top of the television and one on the bookcase. There are few flat surfaces not yet occupied in our hut. So there they sat, looking so sweet, reminders that now’s the time for baking sweet things.

This Sunday, after looking at them for a few weeks and wondering just how many pumpkin pies I could sucker out of them, I decided it was time to make some food. I desperately wanted to make up the perfect pumpkin pie for you, my friends, but we’ve been eating enough sweets around here lately to make me think twice about generating yet another dessert for our fridge. Besides, I could always make up a pumpkin pie later, when Thanksgiving is just a few weeks away. I’d surely have enough pumpkin to freeze, and enough to make up some pumpkin muffins too (though these will surely have more soul).

Pumpkin is one of my favorite things. Just last week you could find me moaning over a pumpkin cake doughnut someone told me I just had to try. Last week Mark and I split a seasonal Pumpkin Ale from Elysian Brewing Company here in Seattle (which was fabulous, pumpkin-y with a hint of nutmeg). I got to the farmer’s market late today, and by one o'clock the pasta guys had run out of their pumpkin ravioli, otherwise I would have bought a little bit to complete my week-long pumpkin binge. Chances are, if it has pumpkin as an ingredient, I’m in.

The pies would have to wait, but what about a hearty pumpkin soup? I’ve made butternut squash soup and gingered carrot soup which are lovely on a cool Fall day. Pumpkin soup might be good, with garbanzo beans and a sweet and savory spicy curry. I split both of the pumpkins in half, scraped out the innards and laid them face down in a baking dish. There is something so terribly familiar, so evocative about cut fresh pumpkin. It’s that pungent jack-o-lantern smell that you first smelled as a kid. About a month ago I was doing my daily run along the running path, red and gold leaves overhead and beneath my feet. Blue skies and sunlight - everything around me sighed like Fall. I caught a whiff of something… so… familiar. Right away I knew what it was. Pumpkin guts! I looked quickly to my left and there on a back porch, 50 feet away was a dad and his two kids and five pumpkin carcasses laid a mess. There’s just no mistaking that smell. I could have been another 50 feet away and still have recognized those pumpkins.

I set a pot of water to boil, added roughly chopped carrots and onions, and later some dried garbanzo beans and kombu. After the beans softened, I add a chopped apple. The pumpkin was roasted and cooled by this time. I took a small forkful of orange flesh and mashed it against the roof of my mouth. It was sweet and soft and wonderful. This will make a fantastic soup.

This was Slow Food for sure. I spent most of my Sunday buying kale at the farmer’s market, roasting the pumpkins and then letting those beans soften up for hours. I don’t always plan to spend most of my Sundays making food, but seemingly the food makes plans for me. I begin with an idea, and the vegetables willfully take over.

This time I won’t share a recipe with you, as this soup was so much of a little of this and a little of that, but I’d be happy to list out the ingredients and let your own vegetables take over the plans. All I can say is that the richness of the pumpkin and the variety of spices make this one of my best soups yet.

Maybe Michelle will accept a bit of this soup as a fair trade – Michelle, what do you think? Let’s pair it with a nice gewurztraminer and talk pies.

Friendship Pumpkin Soup

Water or stock

Carrots

Large onion

Apple

Dried garbanzos

Kombu

Garlic

Roasted pumpkin

Olive oil

Kala masala spice mix

Cumin

Turmeric

Sliced fresh ginger

Moroccan spice mix (coriander, cinnamon, cumin, mint)

Freshly grated nutmeg

Nutritional yeast

Cayenne or other ground hot pepper

Ground Black Pepper

Shoyu

Kale

Lentil Stew

Everybody has them.  Those days when you’re running around doing and going and feeding everyone else but yourself (I fed 200 people today at PCC!)  You’re tired, you’re cranky, you’re sick of thinking of things you ‘gotta do’ and gosh darnit, you’re hungry. Most days after coming home from the restaurant, or from teaching a long cooking class I don’t know how I could be hungry at all, what with the long hours of making and smelling the same foods over and over again, until I finally reach a point of sensory burnout.  Nothing really sounds good.  You don’t even know what ‘good’ is because you’ve been smelling food all day and you’re almost numb to the aromas, the thought of taking a bite seems as mundane as breathing. 

But there is something that nudges the senses – remember this smell?  That comforts and gently soothes and always sounds good no matter what.  I’m sure you have those smells too.  For some people it’s mac n’ cheese, or quesadillas or mashed potatoes with salted butter, or maybe just a turkey sandwich with tomato.  Some days for me it’s falafel (my hippie mother would make it out of a box mix for me when I was a kid).  But most days, with little time to make up anything else, I turn to lentil stew.  Lentils take less than half the time to rehydrate than other legumes.  It’s a vegetarian staple, and if you ask most vegetarians who like to cook, even a little bit, they’ll doubtless have their own version.

Now for the geeky food-science portion of our post.  Ahem.  The word ‘lentil’ is actually latin for ‘lens’ which is an appropriate name given their shape – two convex lenses sealed at the edges.  In Spanish lentils are ‘lentejas’ which is closer to lens in that language which is ‘lente’.  Lentils are incredibly varied in size and shape, everything from orange to yellow and very black.  I urge you to check out the black ones, the beluga variety as they’re so beautiful… and wouldn’t they make an incredible vegetarian caviar over blini with egg and smoked salt (oooh, put that one in my back pocket for a future post!)

They are small and beautiful, full of iron and folate, antioxidants, and so much protein… and fiber!  So much fiber!  Okay, I’ll stop now as Dotty the Dietitian has just pulled out her milk crate to stand upon for an oratory on the dismal amount of fiber in the American diet.

Now, where were we… oh yes, the stew.  My own version of this varies from day to day, depending on what I happen to have in the fridge.  Always I include tons of garlic, some white wine, onions and carrots.  Mark loves it when I toss in a bit of tortellini, and when I can steal a handful of fresh herbs such as rosemary and thyme from my neighbor’s front lawn, those go in there too.  This last time I was lucky to have a stock leftover from a previous soup with sage – and the stock was heavily fragrant with that earthy, sublime smell.  Sage given to me from a friend, in bunches, went into that stock.  It made a world of difference.  I used French green lentils which are visually inspiring – each one a perfect little world unto itself, green, grey and blue swirls on each tiny bean, like a little planet in the palm of your hand.  The savory, salty broth with that gamey sage and the soft pebble-like lentils floating alongside browned onions and garlic, well, no matter the day, I’m tempted by a bowl of that. 

So this evening, Mark and I serve up two big bowls, toast a bit of leftover cornbread, pour a glass of wine and plop down onto the couch, sighing and humming.  I can start to feel the life seep back into my toes, my head, my tummy. 

The day’s craziness calms into a low buzz, and Mark looks at me and gives me a closed-mouth grin, cheeks full of soup and bread.  I get a big smile from this one, every time.

 

Lentil Stew

This recipe is very approximate… stews are meant for improvisation!  Sub one thing for another, a bit of this, a bit of that.  Try the grey-green lentils for a change, they cook faster, and don’t dare skimp on the herbs.  My motto in the kitchen? When in doubt, dump it in.

6-10 cups combination of any stock, water and/or white wine

2 ½ cups lentils

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 large sweet onions, chopped

6 cloves garlic, minced

2 medium carrots, chopped

Bunches of herbs such as rosemary, thyme, oregano, sage, basil

½ cup extra virgin olive oil

¼ cup shoyu, tamari or add sea salt to taste

1 cup tortellini

Freshly cracked black pepper

 

In a large pot, bring stock to boil.  Add lentils and cover pot to simmer.  While lentils are cooking, heat a large skillet with the 3 tablespoons olive oil and add onions, stirring to brown.  Reduce heat on onions to medium to slow browning, add a pinch of salt and continue to stir until a deep brown, but not black color is achieved.  Add garlic and cook for a few minutes more.  When the lentils are firm, but not to consistency, add the onions, carrots, herbs, and shoyu or sea salt and cover, letting cook until lentils are completely soft and carrots are cooked through.  Add the tortellini and cook until tender.  Season with fresh cracked pepper and serve.