I realize that pumpkin soup is not ‘buttered’ in the way that noodles are. But, well, I love the sound of buttered noodles. In her book Julia Childs is constantly recommending to serve things over ‘buttered noodles.’ I can’t bring myself to do it; it feels bland and starchy. But I love the adjectival form of butter. And so here it is. Buttered Pumpkin Soup.
I’m not being totally disingenuous. There is butter in the soup, and its what makes it so good. I recently read a post on home-made pumpkin pie on Reading My Tea Leaves. And there is this striking picture of two pumpkin halves charred and dripping on a baking tray. I thought: I’ve got to do this.
I bought a small sugar pumpkin. Preheated the oven to 350 F. Cut it in half. Scooped out the seeds. Lined a baking tray. Drizzled some oil on it. Placed the pumpkin (cut side down) on the tray. And baked it for about 30-45 minutes. THEN, I took the tray out of the oven. I was a bit apprehensive that I’d undercook the pumpkin or burn it. But it was soft, and melting, and I took a spoon and scooped the roasted pumpkin flesh out of the two shells. It was like scooping ice cream out of a tub.
Now that the most pleasurable part of the activity was over, the soup was a bonus. I sliced a quarter of a vidalia onion and mashed three garlic cloves. I heated some BUTTER in a pan, and caramelized the onions and let the garlic flavour the butter. It smelled divine. Then I added the mashed pumpkin, some vegetable stock and some water. One big pinch thyme. A small pinch of cinnamon. And a dash of nutmeg. Then a good bit of sea salt. Once the mixture was well combined, I blended it all together.
The soup has a hint of sweetness, but the butter, garlic and melty onion shine through with a savoury note. Best with a sprinkle of freshly ground pepper.