The Story of the Pumpkin Soup
When I was 16, I spent a year in the USA as part of my high school exchange program. During our preparation for the year abroad, they warned us about “cultural shock.” Indeed, my experience on a Kentucky horse farm couldn’t have been more different from my 16 years in my parents’ apartment in Russia.
Where do I begin? Let’s start with the seasons. Up to that point in my life, I thought the seasons were marked globally on the same day. September 1, autumn; December 1, winter; March 1, spring, and June 1, the start of summer. I was really surprised that wasn’t true in Kentucky. Ditto for the start of the school year. I thought all around the world the school started on September 1, known in Russia as the “International Day of Knowledge.”
When I arrived in the USA on August 11, my Kentucky high school had begun a week earlier. Wow, school in August! That was wild! In Russia, students dress nicely and bring big bouquets of flowers, gladioli or asters, to the teachers. For me, the daughter of two teachers, September 1 has always been a festive day. Even if I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to another school year.
Here in the States, I learned that the seasons are based on the sun and earth movements, and rituals surround the turn of the season. Americans decorate with fall leaves, cornucopias, and vegetables, there is a lot of pumpkin spice and cinnamon everywhere, and people wear flannels. Every year, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas decorations are sold in stores earlier. We saw Christmas decor at the store as early as September 3, and even my 7-year-old daughter protested: they have no business selling Christmas things so early!
I never fully internalized these symbols of autumn — I don’t like wreaths, or pumpkin spice, or fake flowers and leaves, I don’t even really like squash or pumpkin. But with one exception and it’s pumpkin/ squash soup. Funny enough, I don’t associate it with American autumn, but rather with Israeli winter.
As far as the seasons go, Israeli winters are notoriously dreadful. Without proper heat, and with sun boilers that delay the flow of hot water, the year I lived in Israel was the coldest I’d ever been. Russia was warmer! Especially one winter, when the landlord failed to pay for electricity, and the water and heat were turned off for good. In December. In Jerusalem. It took our landlord two months to buy an electric boiler and heater, while we showered at our friends’ apartments or in the gym.
I first encountered this soup in the iconic Jerusalem cafe “Tmol Shilshom” which takes its name, loosely translated, as “The Other Day,” from a novel by the Israeli Nobel laureate S.Y. Agnon. It was my first experience of the literary café, in which walls are adorned with books, placemats, and menu items reflect notable pieces of literature, and poetry readings are held often. I heard that at its prime, it was impossible to get a job there. Everyone wanted to be a server at Tmol Shilshom.
That’s when I fell in love with the “orange soup” — a blend of all the orange vegetables: pumpkin, of course, carrots, and sweet potatoes, or yams, or batata as it is called in Israel. It was not love at first taste, it was too sweet, but the atmosphere of the cafe had its magical effect on me.
The second time I encountered this soup was at the place called “Mrakiyah” — another first of its sort — a cafe fully devoted to making and serving soups. Very rustic communal benches and mismatched plates. The owners went to the market every morning, picked what looked good, and created different soups daily. Or so the myth goes.
The third time was the charm. My cousin cooked it for me in Tel Aviv, and its vibrant color, rich texture, and slightly sweet flavor became a staple in my family. Now every time I make this soup I think about Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, family, and friends, and rustic and literary cafes.
For me, autumn still starts on September first. This year, I bought a big bouquet of pink gladioli, I even got a new tall vase to accommodate them. And I made my signature Orange Soup for Shabbat.
It is still very warm in Dallas, and it doesn’t really feel like fall yet, although it’s almost Thanksgiving. But seasons are arbitrary, aren’t they? Shocking, I know. Orange soup is universal, though. It can be made anywhere where the pumpkins grow, and any time you desire that warm, velvety feeling.
The Orange Soup
The Magic Ingredients
- 1 butternut squash, or small pumpkin, or whatever gourd you find locally
- 1 large yam or sweet potato (regular potatoes work too)
- 1 onion
- 2–3 carrots
- garlic
- oil
- sour cream
- basil (optional)
- spices
- salt & pepper
- croutons
- grated cheese
- balsamic glaze
- blender or food processor
The Method
- Wash and peel vegetables.
- Cut them in more or less equal chunks, not too small.
- Probably it’s best for them to go in at different times, as their cooking time differs (carrots first, then yams, then pumpkin, last onion) but “ain’t nobody got time for that”, so I put them all together.
- Cover with liquid, I use water. You can use vegetable or meat stock for a slightly different flavor, I like it simple.
- More water will result in thinner soup, less — heartier obviously. I like vegetables covered, but not too much.
- Bring the pot to boil.
- This is totally optional but very tasty.
- While the vegetables are cooking, crush and dice 3–4 garlic cloves
- Heat up a pan with oil
- Add garlic, basil leaves, and pepper flakes, and cook for three-four minutes.
- Add garlic to the soup, and discard basil.
- Reserve infused oil for serving
- Once the vegetables are soft and can be easily pierced with the fork (20–30 minutes, it’s a quick soup) add salt and pepper.
- Blend the vegetables and the liquid, I do it with an immersion blender, but it can be done in a food processor as well. Even mashed with a fork, this will result in a chunkier, less smooth texture.
- You can leave this soup as is, for a vegan version, but I prefer adding dairy to it.
- I always use a few tablespoons of sour cream, but cream, half & half, or even milk can be used as well. Sour cream will keep the soup thick, but creamy.
- Give it another whirl of blending for a silky smooth texture.
- Time to add your favorite spices.
- They say cinnamon & nutmeg are a must for this soup, but you should use what you like. I think too much cinnamon turns it into a smoothie, so I use just a pinch if at all.
- I prefer adding orange/red spices: curry, smoked paprika, turmeric, red pepper, garlic & onion powder. Salt and pepper to taste.
- That’s it, the soup is ready.
- Serving it is lots of fun too!
- I always add croutons & grated cheese.
- This time I also garnished the soup with a balsamic vinegar glaze & infused oil I made earlier. It gave the soup a kick and looked playful.
- But add whatever garnishes make you happy!
- The next day we ate it with truffle flatbread pizza, and it was a perfect pairing, I’m thinking truffle oil would go beautifully with this soup.
- Oh well, next time, I make it often, and so should you.
