We had a tiny pumpkin at Halloween that we didn’t carve, and which has been sitting in the fridge waiting for me to decide what I would do with it for a little while now. I’ve been talking about making a pumpkin pie for weeks. It wasn’t a favourite when I was a youngster, I could never get my head around the taste and found it to be quite peculiar. But I’m eager to give it another chance now that my taste buds have had time to mature. I have a feeling I would really enjoy it.
But sadly, money is tight. So I decided on pumpkin soup as it didn’t require me to buy anything in. Rather than following a recipe, I went with my intuition. My mother made countless batches of pumpkin soup during the cold months when I was growing up, and it felt somewhat surreal that it was me skinning onions, garlic and the most beautiful of pumpkins. I followed my mother’s example and blended it up to create a silky, rich texture.
I ate it with some of the pumpkin seeds I roasted the other day and some brown bread topped with butter and cheese. It tasted like all of the winters of my childhood rolled into one lunchtime.