Robert threw a pie party for Halloween and made this amazing pumpkin pie from an actual not-from-a-can pumpkin (and all this talk I’ve been hearing and reading lately about using special pumpkins to avoid watery, flavorless flesh is really a bunch of hooey; Robert used a normal pumpkin and it did just fine as pie filling). Deliciously flaky and tender lard-butter crust, too; way better than my soggy-ass (but otherwise aesthetically pleasing) cherry pie (and in case you were wondering, those are sour cherries from the Greenmarket that I froze back in July). Robert made a really lovely spinach pie as well. (That’s cinnamon Il Laboratorio gelato, by the way. So good.)
I finally got around to roasting the potimarron (yeah, I neglected to take my own picture before hacking it to bits) I bought at the Greenmarket three weeks ago (cucurbits last forever! Another reason to love them, not that one needs one), and then discovered I really don’t like the flesh roasted plain. It’s cloyingly sweet and has this graininess I’m not really a fan of. Like badly cooked beans. But that’s okay, because I had made a big ol’ batch of chicken stock just a week ago and had purposely set some aside to make butternut squash soup. Fortunately, the squash was so awesome roasted plain that I ate it all up and then turned to the pumpkin for answers. And people, I forget again how much I love making soup, how soup is such a wonderful demonstration of the alchemical process of cooking. And this soup is very, very good.
Pumpkin leek soup is one potimarron, cut into chunks, doused with olive oil, and roasted until the apartment smells like burning (or until squishy, whichever comes first); one leek from the CSA (last share of the season), cut into ribbons, melted in a hot, hot sauce pan with plenty more oil; and the chicken stock in the fridge that’s just screaming to be used. Add these three together, season with way more salt than seems possible, a reasonable amount of pepper, and adjust for that sweetness with some cider vinegar. Inspiration might lead one to pick up the paprika; this is not a bad idea. Eat while hot, but try not to burn your palate (happens every damn time). Rinse. Repeat (but not too many times, or you will be spending most of the next few hours sitting in the bathroom).
In other eating developments, I tripped over a tiny sliver of a place in K-town a couple days ago that sold nothing but kimbap (Korean sushi to you gringos). And this stuff wasn’t stellar but I could imagine my mom making them — if my mom were Korean. My mom, however, would not have the genius idea of offering a cheese version: with those pickled vegetables, you get “strips of American cheese.” Wow.