Thanksgiving and Soup

Last updated on: November 16, 2017 at 9:46 am by Anne Kennedy

Thanksgiving and Soup 2017-11-16T09:46:57-04:00 Anne Kennedy

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

It’s almost Thanksgiving, a thought which surprised me yesterday as I was bashing my way through the laundry. It’s been such a warm fall, and I’ve been balancing between so many and various high-wire acts, including being ticked off about the Christmas music in stores, that I haven’t considered that important and much needed feast, the one where you just get to have dinner and be thankful.

Don’t you think, though, that Thanksgiving would be a lot more popular in this day and age if it could be called Thankstaking? And that instead of having to give thanks, which probably requires some effort on my part, I could take, or better yet just receive piles of thanks not only for all the work I do, but also for who I am? I think that would be much more in keeping with the times. Although, now that I say it out loud, I can see why it’s not a thing.

So, in the spirit of generous thankfulness, I just want to offer up this brilliant soup that either fate or the Holy Spirit vouchsafed to me on Tuesday, and which, if you are looking to deconstruct your thanksgiving dinner, trying to pull yourself out of the morass of cooking the same thing Every Single Time, I’m sure will make your life the sunshine field of rainbow butter cup unicorns that you deserve.

Acorn Squash Soup
Let me just begin by saying that this Soup is very much already a thing. I mean, I’ve made it every year because everyone makes it. This is not the inventing of a new and amazing Soup. What happened, though, is that I inadvertently, by following my heart, elevated it to a level of lyrical sumptuousness heretofore unexperienced in the realm of this particular Soup. It was so amazing, in fact, that I am convinced it would be worthy of any elegant and upscale thanksgiving dinner.

What it recalls, really, is the pie that normally appears at the end–the pumpkin one. It has the deep rich, creamy, emulsified intensity of what you expect in a dessert. But if you, like me, are already too full by that point to even face the pie, this gives you a leg up. You get it First, and then who even cares about the pie…I mean, don’t answer that. We all care about the pie, but still, nothing is lost in bookending your life with creamy pumpkin flavors both savory and sweet.

So here’s what I did. I very finely diced an onion and sweated it at a low heat for a long while in butter. Didn’t bother with the oil, because there was no need. Meanwhile I split two acorn squashes wide open, scooped out their innards and baked them face down on a baking sheet. I like an acorn squash better than a pumpkin, and much better than a sweet potato for all kinds of reasons–the color, the texture, for its not being too sweet, and for the flavor. It indicates pumpkin in a spiritual way, without overpowering the whole room. When the onion was translucent–which requires patience, you don’t want to just slam it with heat, it needs to be gently brought along–I added one single pork bullion cube, about which I also just need to have a word.

It used to be, in my misspent youth, that I was constantly making stock. I saved up every single little bone, burying them all in my freezer, and once a month I would get out my massive pot and stuff it full of the picked over frozen carcasses, various vegetables, and an ocean of cold water. It would sit and simmer all day, and sometimes through the night, and then because I didn’t ever want to strain it, I would bring it back up to a boil two or three more times, and then finally, overwrought and miserable, finally cope with it, refilling my freezer with a lot of one cup plastic containers full of golden liquid, only to begin, what felt like only a week later, the whole process over again.

At some point along the way, probably on one of those gray afternoons where you have a baby strapped to your back, a toddler lying on the floor whining, two kids who should have still been doing math but were laboriously sprinkling lego in elegant designs all over the floor, that I stood gazing at all the bones in the freezer, the dead bones of my expectations and understanding of myself, and then hauled them out and shoved them into a big stretchy garbage bag, flinging them to the side of the road. Then I traipsed lightheartedly to Aldi to buy an entire grocery cart full of frozen pizza, and really never looked back.

Now what happens is that Matt goes to the store on Friday and buys those gorgeous little yellow rectangular packets, whereby some alchemist takes all the flavor of the beast and condenses it into that solitary magical square that you just pop into whatever pot you happen to be going on with.

But here is where you must attend carefully. On the whole, you want beef or chicken. Those are the hearty substances of daily life. But you also want to go a little off the path and buy up a quantity of the pork ones. And then to literally, and I do mean it in the old fashioned way, to every single pot that you shove on the stove add One, but Only One pork cube. The depth, the richness wrought by one pork cube, married together with the chicken or beef or whatever, is the most glorious thing.

So anyway, I had sweated my onion and I had my two squash roasting, and so I added my single pork cube and a can of coconut milk and let those two and the opinion join themselves irrevocably together. I also dug around a found a nice ham bone resting quietly at the back of the fridge. That went in too. And then, finally, the scooped out golden squash. Only then did I add some water to top up and make it into an actual Soup. A little salt, an abundant tablespoon of curry powder, a little folding of the hands in prayer, and let me tell you, poverty did not dare creep up anywhere into my kitchen.

I turned away and left it, simmering gently, to go on about my life, and then, sometime late morning, Matt came in and removed the ham bone and blended the divine mixture together with the immersion blender.

And what I want to say is, it was so much more creamy, so much more subtly rich and pumpkiny, gently sweet with a perfectly balanced kick of heat from the curry, that I wanted to weep, but I restrained myself. I just had another bowl.

The great trouble was that there was not enough. I should have quadrupled it, because there was not even one speck left over. The tragedy of this was almost too much for me to bear. I was only able to console myself by purposing to do it again next week, for the feast itself. This is only a trial run, I told myself, it will be ok. Somehow, someday, it will all be ok.

Pip pip.

Kitchen Notes

Food

Previous Post

November 15, 2017

3 Characteristics of Christian Marriage

Next Post

November 17, 2017 7 Takes to Giving Thanks

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category books Catechesis of the Good Shepherd Children in Conversation culture watch Daily Devotions Demotivations with Anne faith alone for the grandparents GAFCON In conversation with children In the News Kitchen Notes Lambeth Learning Notes Life Going On Men are Human Notes from Home Pictures Reading the Bible Saturday Links Sermons Signs of the Apocalypse The Bad Word Association The Prayer of Jonah Travel Notes Uncategorized Witless Wednesdays Work and the Christian

Select a Month June 2024 May 2024 April 2024 March 2024 February 2024 January 2024 November 2023 October 2023 September 2023 August 2023 July 2023 June 2023 May 2023 April 2023 March 2023 February 2023 January 2023 December 2022 November 2022 October 2022 September 2022 July 2022 May 2022 April 2022 March 2022 February 2022 January 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 July 2021 June 2021 May 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February 2012 January 2012 December 2011 November 2011 October 2011 September 2011 August 2011 July 2011 June 2011 May 2011 April 2011 March 2011 February 2011 January 2011 December 2010 November 2010 October 2010 September 2010 August 2010 July 2010 June 2010 May 2010 April 2010 March 2010 February 2010 January 2010 December 2009 November 2009 October 2009 September 2009 August 2009 July 2009 June 2009 May 2009 April 2009 March 2009 February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 September 2008 August 2008 July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

What does "Siloam" mean in Hebrew?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Peace Refreshing Sent Cleansing

Books by This Author Books by Anne Kennedy

See All Titles »