My October Kitchen
In our home in the Nevada Foothills, most mid-October days begin with chilly dawn temperatures and end with fiery orange sunsets that set our world ablaze. In our woods of tall pines and Douglas firs, there is a deep moan as wind soughs through high boughs like the soft moan of a gentle surf. Sough, pronounced in American English like soft; in British English as in sou’western. Or is it the sound of black bears still snoozing after dancing round a clearing all night?
Up early, we dress in flannel lounge pants and warm wraps before heading to the porch with cups of rich Italian coffee topped with peaks of steamed milk and a pumpkin biscotti. Cozy in our Adirondack chairs, blankets over our laps, we sit quietly with our hands around our cups of hot coffee and take in the light now beginning to rise deep in a corner of the woods. Content and grateful for the peace this quiet place affords us, we soon talk about the day forthcoming.
Kit is reading a short story he wrote and is considering adding a new chapter. I tell him I’ve got threads in my head for a blog about my October kitchen. “What are you cooking up?’ Kit asks. “A soup the color of this morning’s sunrise,” I answer, “made with an audacious combination of seasonal vegetables and fruit.”
Before heading inside for a bowl of oatmeal with chopped apples and a dash of cinnamon, I tell Kit that I love my birth month of October and delight in anything made from pumpkins. Pumpkin doughnuts, pumpkin biscotti, pumpkin pie, and pumpkin bread. But back to that soup. In 1983, I bought a copy of Martha Stewart’s Quick Cook Cookbook—seasonal recipes that can be easily prepared by busy American women juggling a career and family. There are 52 menus (beautifully photographed), one for every week of the year, that can be prepared in an hour or less. One of my favorite fall seasonal meals begins with her Red Pepper Soup—perfect because it combines red peppers, carrots, and a pear—all of which I now have in abundance in my October kitchen.
To prepare Martha’s Red Pepper Soup, thinly slice 6 red peppers, 3 carrots, 3 shallots, 1 clove of garlic, and 1 pear (peeled and quartered). Heat 1 T olive oil and 4 T (1/2 stick) of unsalted butter and sauté the above for 8-10 minutes over medium-low heat. Add a quart of chicken stock and season with 1 tsp. crushed dried red pepper, a dash of cayenne pepper, salt and pepper to taste. Simmer, covered, for 25-30 minutes. Cool and then pureé the soup in a food processor or with a Smart Stick blender, adding one additional roasted red pepper. Reheat before serving with a tarragon garnish and crusty French bread.
While Martha paired the soup with Shrimp Tortillas, I will serve it with small Hawaiian Street Tacos filled with strips of pulled pork or rotisserie chicken, slivered red onion, fresh cilantro, chopped tomato, and thin slices of avocado. For Kit, the tacos are spiced up with Pace picante salsa. Finally, to cool the palette, ripe pears are seasoned in butter, honey, ginger, and topped with a dollop of Talenti Madagascar Vanilla Bean gelato.
“What else are you going to make with the plethora of pears now available in local markets?” Kit asks. I tell him that I’ll keep looking for ways to cook with them and share them with friends. And one day soon, I’ll get out Dad’s cast iron skillet and make my favorite purloined fall pear dessert. Sliced pears are sautéed in honey, sprigs of thyme, fresh lavender, and butter. Finally, a light batter is poured over the pears and topped with toasted almonds before baking. It is divine with fresh whipped cream or honey vanilla ice cream. Reader, if you want the recipe, just ask.
Soon the temperatures will drop down into the 40s at night. Then, as if by magic, morning’s brilliant light will illuminate the pile of pumpkins that now decorate the porch. And before long, Halloween Jack-o’-lanterns will greet neighbors who drop by to share news and like us, marvel at the beauty of this neighborhood we all call home.