
There is a fortnight in October when the British larder turns properly orange. Squashes stack up at the farm shop in crates, the hedgerows are heavy with hips and haws, and every kitchen smells faintly of roasting. Pumpkin soup is a staple of that season, but pumpkin on its own can be watery and a touch dull — all colour and no backbone. A spoonful or two of maple syrup fixes that beautifully.
Maple is not simply sweetness. It carries a soft, almost caramelised note that flatters the earthy flesh without shouting over it. Used with a light hand, it reads as depth rather than sugar, and it pairs particularly well with the warm spices we reach for at this time of year. Get the balance right and nobody will guess there is syrup in the pan at all — they will just say the soup tastes unusually good.
The single biggest improvement you can make is to stop buying carving pumpkins. Those are bred for size and hollow walls, and their flesh is stringy and bland. Look instead for a culinary variety: Crown Prince is the gold standard, with slate-blue skin and dense, deeply flavoured orange flesh. Ironbark and kabocha are excellent too, and butternut is a perfectly good fallback that is far easier to peel.
You want around 1.2kg of prepared flesh — roughly a medium Crown Prince or two decent butternuts. Cut it into 3cm chunks, leaving the skin on if you like; it slips away easily once roasted. Toss with oil, salt and pepper, spread in a single layer and roast at 200°C (180°C fan, gas 6) for 30 to 35 minutes, until the edges catch and caramelise. Roasting rather than boiling concentrates the sugars and gives the soup its velvety body. Boiled pumpkin makes a thin, sad soup. Do not skip this step.
Serves 4 to 6 generously
While the pumpkin roasts, warm the oil in a large heavy-based pan over a low heat and sweat the onion with a good pinch of salt for 10 minutes until soft and translucent but not coloured. Add the garlic, ground coriander and nutmeg and stir for a minute, just until fragrant.
Tip in the roasted pumpkin, scraping every sticky bit from the tray into the pan, then pour over the stock. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook for 15 minutes, uncovered, so the flavours marry and the liquid reduces slightly. Take off the heat and blend until completely smooth — a stick blender is easiest, but a jug blender gives a finer, glossier result. If it looks thick, loosen with a little more stock.
Now stir through the maple syrup and the cream. Taste before you season: the sweetness of the squash varies enormously from one variety to the next, so add a third tablespoon of maple if it needs lifting, or a squeeze of lemon if it tastes flat. Season firmly with salt and pepper.
The topping is what turns this from a weekday pan of soup into something you would happily serve to guests. Warm a dry frying pan over a medium heat and add 75g of mixed seeds — pumpkin, sunflower and a spoonful of sesame work well. Toast for two or three minutes, shaking the pan, until they smell nutty and begin to pop.
Push them to one side, add a small knob of butter and a teaspoon of maple syrup, then stir everything together for another 30 seconds. Add a pinch of flaky salt and a scant pinch of cayenne or smoked paprika. Tip onto a cold plate straight away — they will set into lovely little clusters as they cool, which is exactly what you want scattered over the bowl.
To serve, ladle the soup into warm bowls, drizzle a thin swirl of cream over each, and scatter over the seeds at the last moment so they stay crisp.
The soup freezes beautifully, but freeze it before the cream and maple go in. Cool it quickly, decant into bags or tubs, and it will keep for up to three months. Reheat gently, then finish with the maple and cream once it is hot — cream that has been frozen and reheated can split and turn grainy.
It also keeps in the fridge for three days, and improves overnight. A few variations worth trying:
This is lunch food, really — the sort of thing that suits a blustery Saturday when everyone has been out walking and comes home cold. Serve it with thick slices of buttered sourdough, or better still a warm cheese scone, which is a fine use for the last of the autumn's strong cheddar. A sharp little salad of grated apple, celery and walnuts on the side cuts through the richness nicely.
Make a big batch on Sunday and you have lunches sorted for the week ahead. Come November, when the squash has had its day, the same method works just as well with roasted carrots, parsnips or a mixture of both — the maple and the toasted seeds will see you right through to the end of the year.
Hi, my name is Anthony kuber. I am artist and fashion designer.
I love to travel and writing blogging.
Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *