8 November Wednesday

It gave me pause to learn that pumpkin spice season is over. First, we had to invent pumpkin spice season, then we had to make it end. It seems odd that the very famous coffee-drink chain has declared the season over and now, it is Christmas season. Meaning, apparently, a lot of mint, a flavor I do not associate with Christmas. OK, maybe one thing, Peppermint bark. How odd, I mean I think that pumpkin spice season would last at least, at least, to Thanksgiving, you know, when we actually eat the pumpkin pie. In many households where the dish is popular, pumpkin pie will be served on Christmas Day. Though, I think after New Year we give it a rest.

The craving for pumpkin spice is a real one, and getting the right balance of nutmeg, cinnamon, mace, clove, and varyingly, dry ginger, star anise, cardamom can be a tricky one. In fact, I theorize that this contributes the enduring popularity pumpkin pie. Some folks like it very nutmeggy, almost soapy, which I think must have been popular in the 1940s. The 1980s were cinnamon city baby, and now, perhaps ginger leaning, something tangier. You see? It changes with the taste of the times. I don’t know, I’m making this all up.

There it is, dear friends, a story in three pictures, I need say not one word more. Now, I don’t like to talk about plans BEFORE I do them, but it leaves me with little else to write about today. The things I don’t like to write about are called ideas, many of which do not become experiences, but hopefully a few of these will.

First, I did my annual outing with Roy Andreis de Groot’s Foods of the Seasons cookbook, made a menu that included roasted Canada goose, a dish I remember as “Moorish Couscous Mountain”, and all sorts of other crap. Of course, the book is back on the shelf. Although, I am fascinated with the idea of cooking a goose for one of these holidays coming up. I just looked at the holiday menu at Gus’s and looked at the order form for geese. We’ll see.

I have been working on a few things lately. It’s not always like me to experiment with making my sauces, but recently I’ve been toying with some dry herbs and the millions of spices I have. First, umami, baby, umami. I made a sauce with soy, light soy, fresh ginger, garlic, chili flake, black bean paste for chicken and bell peppers. Chinese Five-Spice butter for pork chops? Bingo bongo. Last night, I made a sauce with tons of mushrooms and toasted onions, tomato paste, browned the butter before smothering the pile of coiled egg pasta in the rich reddish brown sauce and the first snow fall of winter Parmesan. On Top of Spaghetti indeed.

I’ve come into two bunches of asparagus out of season from Mexico. It doesn’t look great, it doesn’t taste great, but it is food none-the-less, which means soup. Leek and asparagus soup, milk and hot stock, salt and pepper. I’ve come around. When I was a kid, soup was generally hearty with chunks of vegetable and or meat in broth. Later, I really enjoyed completely pureed, thinner soups that are eaten as a first course in French food. Now I’m coming around to the idea of a mostly pureed soup with soft small morsels of the article upon which the soup is based. A carrot soup would, for instance, have small bits of carrot, whereas my asparagus soup will have morsels of asparagus. So, that’s a change in my soup universe.

The soup is bubbling on the stovetop. OK, here is the recipe I came up with: I am playing more with toasting the butter before throwing in the finely diced onion and shallot, then chopped asparagus, two russet potatoes, a package of frozen peas, two teaspoons of marjoram, and half a teaspoon of smoked paprika, salt and pepper. I took an immersion blender to it but left many of the peas either whole or knicked. It was yummy, it really was. The beurre noisette is key. OK, dishes are done, the house is settling. I’m ready for bed.