October Kitchen Memories
On October 17th, the air was chill and a giant Hunter’s Super Moon lit up the night sky over the Lodge where Kit resides. During my dinner visit that evening, we talked about how much we’d loved our October days when we lived at Boomerang Creek. Mornings began with chilly dawn walks and ended with fiery orange sunsets that set the woods ablaze. In the woods, there was at times a deep moan as wind soughed through thick foliage, like the soft moan of a gentle surf. Sough, pronounced in American English like soft; in British English as in sou’wester. Or I wonder now, was that the sound of cows snoozing in our neighbor’s pasture?
Back at the house, our walking poles would be returned to their rack on the porch. Glad to have walked, we’d soon cozy in our Adirondack chairs, blankets covering our laps, and hands around cups of hot coffee. Then, as if by magic, morning’s brilliant light illuminated the pumpkins that decorated the porch steps, turning them into Halloween Jack-o’-lanterns.
We’d talk about the day forthcoming. Kit was working on episodes from his life that would later be published in a book by the same name after our move to Nevada City in 2021. I was collecting threads for a column about my October kitchen. “What are you cooking up?” Kit asked one morning. “A soup the color of this morning’s sunrise,” I answered, “made with an audacious combination of seasonal vegetables and fruit.”
Before heading inside for a bowl of oatmeal with chopped apples with a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg, Kit put in a request for a batch of pumpkin muffins. “Absolutely!” I said. “I love October and anything made with pumpkins.” Now, many October moons later, I’ll be making pumpkin muffins tomorrow morning for the staff at the Lodge and be sure to share one with Kit.
But, back to that soup the color of an October sunrise. In 1983, I bought a copy of Martha Stewart’s Quick Cookcookbook—described as 200 seasonal recipes that can be easily prepared by busy American women juggling a career and family. There are 52 beautifully photographed menus, one for every week of the year, that can be prepared in an hour or less. One of my favorite meals begins with 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 in the Sierra Foothills.
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 tablespoon of olive oil and 4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) of unsalted butter. Sauté the above for 8-10 minutes over medium-low heat. Add a quart of chicken stock. 1 teaspoon crushed dried red pepper, and a dash of cayenne pepper, salt and pepper to taste. Simmer, covered, for 25-30 minutes. Cool and then purée the soup in a food processor, adding one additional roasted red pepper and reheat before serving with a tarragon garnish.
While Stewart paired the soup with Shrimp Tortillas, I serve it with small corn Street Tacos filled with slivered red onion, fresh cilantro, chopped tomato, shredded Cheddar cheese and thin slices of avocado. Kit likes his tacos spiced up with Pace picante salsa. To cool the palette, locally grown pears are sautéed in butter, honey and ginger, and topped with a scoop of Tillamook French Vanilla ice cream.
October is the perfect month to cook up your harvest of small local pie pumpkins, colorful red or yellow peppers, and various varieties of fall pears. I’m always looking for ways to cook with pears this time of the year. One day soon, I’ll get out Dad’s cast iron skillet and make my favorite purloined fall pear dessert. Sliced Bartlett 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 Vanilla ice cream. Reader, if you want the recipe, just ask.
October gave a party; The leaves by hundreds came—The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples, And leaves of every name. The Sunshine spread a carpet, and everything was grand, Miss Weather led the dancing, Professor Wind the band.
— George Cooper