curried pear and butternut soup

Before you quickly click away from this post muttering squash, AGAIN?? please humor me. If there’s any time of the year I’m allowed to indulge my love of all things gourd, it’s fall.

On Halloween evening I biked to the grocery store to procure a baguette. We were going to have it with Mark’s delicious Punkin Ale rendition of this Beer Baked Beans recipe. I rode home with my baguette sticking out from behind me, feeling like I was headed to a dinner party in Montmarte.

The best thing about that little jaunt though were the pumpkins. Dotting front stoops like jolly orange goblins, glowing as if they had invaded the streets of Syracuse, the rotund globes guided me all the way home. There’s something about a carved pumpkin that makes me smile every time.

Leaves crackled under my bike tires as I passed people in lawn chairs doling out candy. My twilight ride wove through neighborhood streets that grew more festive as the sun sank.

But my recipe today doesn’t have to do with beans, baguettes, or pumpkins, but another type of squash. I’ve posted about the silky, meaty butternut once before, but today it’s back, pureed into a low fat soup with pears and curry powder. Here it is pictured with a swirl of sour cream.

Some friends and I made this soup a few weeks ago as part of our newly founded “Estro-cook” nights. The semi-weekly Sunday evening cook-a-thon was named after a Winnipeg Folk Festival workshop called “Estro-Jam,” where women from different bands teamed up to play a daytime stage.

I just love how this picture shows off the sunny October afternoon I enjoyed it on. Having soup in the freezer is one life’s easiest pleasures.

This soup can even be dressed up with cubes of tofu and green lentils, as this cafe on B.C.’s Sunshine Coast did. I took this picture while I was solo cycle-touring around Vancouver island, and this picture reminds me of those days, spent largely alone, when a bowl of soup and a Moleskine journal could very well be a vagabond’s best friend.

And years later, though I am holed up in Syracuse as the fall wilts to shades of ochre, the dear gourd does it again.

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umami salad

When presented with my two snack options on my West Jet flight yesterday, I was irked that they’d only covered sweet and salty options (“cookies or snack mix, miss?”) I’m not sure who regulates things like taste, but a fifth taste is pending on the bitter-sweet-salty-sour gamut. This new addition is none other than umami, a relative newcomer to the taste scene.

While it might take a few more years for airlines and convenience stores to start offering snacks in this new category, elsewhere its popping up as plentifully as my basil plants.  This taste, often described as “savoriness” (read: deliciousness), can be understood with a simple mental exercise. Think soy sauce, parmesan cheese and anchovies, not neccessarily together but rather by their “essence.” These foods possess the mysterious fifth taste credited with imparting indescribable “heartiness” to foods.

Good ol’ Wikipedia tells us that umami comes about more technically via the detection of the naturally present amino acid, glutamic acid, or glutamates in some foods. This is why MSG also presents a unique heartiness to food, despite it being an additive most health nuts decry.

It turns out that the Clamato juice I had with my West Jet salty snack mix might qualify as being umame, but I’m not sure yet. For now, I’ll cling to it as a convenient “je ne sais quoi” term for food that surpasses my inner thesaurus.

With arugula sprouting up in my garden faster than I can caress my tomato plants (who apparently like that sort of thing) this salad has become a faithful and fast dinner these days. With a supply of candied walnuts and a block of stinky cheese, umami is never too far away to meet a craving that goes beyond the everyday. And even better, some health gurus claim that the more tastes you can meet in one meal, the more likely you are to feel satisfied.

Take this salad, one of my favorites. Sure it’s a little salty, a little bitter, and a little sweet. But its main star power is in its combination of big, bold flavors I have trouble describing the marriage of. So umami it is. Peppery, nutty, hearty deliciousness that is perfect for these hot summer days when we live on salad and then listen to our bodies thank us profusely.

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