This blog has an authenticity problem.
Specifically, I have trouble posting anything that hasn't been vetted by a reputable (read: has a last name to match the cuisine or some other arbitrary criteria I make up on the spot) source. This vastly limits what I can post, because I am not really one for following recipes, and too much improvisation moved the food too far from my predetermined authenticity zone.
However, I've decided to get over it and allow some leeway when it comes to Things That Go on the Blog. I'm not going to make kimchi and try to pass it off as Scandinavian, and the whole point still is to actually learn about regional foods, but working in generalities, as is my usual wont, is good enough. Low expectations, ladies and gents!
SO.
This recipe is inspired by a delicious soup I had during a family brunch over the holidays. While in Columbus visiting the in-laws, we ate at a delightful little place called Skillet, which is all about that local, seasonal, sustainable food movement that the hippies and The Husband are always talking about. My main dish was a root vegetable hash, which was good but not terribly memorable (mostly because I am a Brussels sprout purist and think that tarting them up with herbs and spices makes a sow's ear out of a purse, in a weird but profoundly apt mangling of a phrase). The soup, however, which I ordered mostly because I wasn't paying and therefore needed to eat as much as possible, was smooth and creamy and spicy—the perfect mix for a crisp November day in the Midwest. (Is Columbus even considered the Midwest? Ohio is a confusing geographic anomaly.)
I couldn't find a recipe for an actual jerked pumpkin soup, so this is what I came up with after reading several descriptions of jerk spice and then promptly forgetting half of it. Also, it's not an actual pumpkin soup, because the pumpkin on our counter had hardened off so much that I couldn't get a knife through it; rather than risking carpal dismemberment trying to saw through my Cucurbita spp., I just used a Kabocha squash whose skins had not yet worked its way up the Mohs scale.
Roast your squash/pumpkin however you like; I sliced it in half, scooped out the seeds, placed it cut-side down in a baking sheet with a little bit of water, covered with foil, and baked at 400ºF for about 45 minutes. (Definitely check occasionally, though, because I was pretty close to overdoing it.) When soft, remove from the pan and let cool. Once it's manageable, scrape out the flesh into a bowl and put aside. You could puree it in a food processor to smooth it out, but skipping this step means one fewer thing to wash, so I left the squash rustic and lumpy. (Also, this soup is pureed after cooking, so the lumps aren't even an issue to begin with.)
While your squash is resting, make up the jerk spice paste. In a pestle and mortar (or food processor, if you are futuristic and good with technology), mix up two pinches of allspice, one pinch each of cloves and cinnamon, and several good scrapes of fresh nutmeg (or a tiny pinch, if using ground). Add in two or three minced cloves of garlic, a couple of turns of the black pepper grinder, and some heat of your choice to your degree of tolerance—I used a big pinch of Aleppo pepper, along with a pinch or so of chipotle pepper, but you can also use finely diced fresh chiles of whatever sort you like. Most recipes also called for some amount of onion/scallion; I had meant to use a shallot, but the one I swore we had seemed to have disappeared, so I left it out. Grind everything together to crush and coat the garlic, then add a squeeze of orange and mash up some more. You should have a wet, but still cohesive, paste by the end, so go easy on the citrus.
Chop up half an onion and an additional clove or two of garlic. Heat up some oil in a large pot, then add the spice paste and cook for about a minute. Mix in the onion and cook until just soft, then add the garlic and cook until fragrant. Dump in the lot of squash and mix thoroughly, then add about 1/2 c. veg broth and 1/2 c. coconut milk. Mix well, smoothing out the lumps of squash as you go. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and let simmer, covered, for about 20 minutes. If the soup seems too thick, add more broth and/or coconut milk.
While the soup's a-simmerin', toasted up some pepitas. I prefer heating them up on the stove, because you can keep the seeds moving so they don't burn (and all the tossing makes me feel like some superstar chef), but the oven works, too. Or you could just buy them pre-toasted, if you are a big spender like that. After they've popped, but before they are brown, remove from the heat and hit them with a tiny sprinkle of salt.
When the soup flavors have fully melded, break out your immersion blender (or do small batches in a food processor/blender) and puree until smooth and all the onions are dissolved. Taste and adjust seasonings (specifically the allspice and chiles, but also salt, depending on the sodium content of your broth) as needed.
Ladle into bowls and top with the toasted pepitas and a sprinkling of cocoa nibs. Manchego-cheese crostinis (slices of toasted baguette topped with shredded Manchego, then broiled until the cheese is brown and bubbly) make a nice, if thoroughly unauthentic, touch.
An additional swirl of coconut milk adds a level of unctuousness, or creme fraiche might be nice (though that would un-veganify it). The jerkiness intensifies over time, which is coincidentally what also happens to people (though I suppose "cantankerousness" is a better term, especially if my goal in life is to grow up to be a curmudgeon. And by "grow up," I mean "already am").
Specifically, I have trouble posting anything that hasn't been vetted by a reputable (read: has a last name to match the cuisine or some other arbitrary criteria I make up on the spot) source. This vastly limits what I can post, because I am not really one for following recipes, and too much improvisation moved the food too far from my predetermined authenticity zone.
However, I've decided to get over it and allow some leeway when it comes to Things That Go on the Blog. I'm not going to make kimchi and try to pass it off as Scandinavian, and the whole point still is to actually learn about regional foods, but working in generalities, as is my usual wont, is good enough. Low expectations, ladies and gents!
SO.
This recipe is inspired by a delicious soup I had during a family brunch over the holidays. While in Columbus visiting the in-laws, we ate at a delightful little place called Skillet, which is all about that local, seasonal, sustainable food movement that the hippies and The Husband are always talking about. My main dish was a root vegetable hash, which was good but not terribly memorable (mostly because I am a Brussels sprout purist and think that tarting them up with herbs and spices makes a sow's ear out of a purse, in a weird but profoundly apt mangling of a phrase). The soup, however, which I ordered mostly because I wasn't paying and therefore needed to eat as much as possible, was smooth and creamy and spicy—the perfect mix for a crisp November day in the Midwest. (Is Columbus even considered the Midwest? Ohio is a confusing geographic anomaly.)
I couldn't find a recipe for an actual jerked pumpkin soup, so this is what I came up with after reading several descriptions of jerk spice and then promptly forgetting half of it. Also, it's not an actual pumpkin soup, because the pumpkin on our counter had hardened off so much that I couldn't get a knife through it; rather than risking carpal dismemberment trying to saw through my Cucurbita spp., I just used a Kabocha squash whose skins had not yet worked its way up the Mohs scale.
Roast your squash/pumpkin however you like; I sliced it in half, scooped out the seeds, placed it cut-side down in a baking sheet with a little bit of water, covered with foil, and baked at 400ºF for about 45 minutes. (Definitely check occasionally, though, because I was pretty close to overdoing it.) When soft, remove from the pan and let cool. Once it's manageable, scrape out the flesh into a bowl and put aside. You could puree it in a food processor to smooth it out, but skipping this step means one fewer thing to wash, so I left the squash rustic and lumpy. (Also, this soup is pureed after cooking, so the lumps aren't even an issue to begin with.)
While your squash is resting, make up the jerk spice paste. In a pestle and mortar (or food processor, if you are futuristic and good with technology), mix up two pinches of allspice, one pinch each of cloves and cinnamon, and several good scrapes of fresh nutmeg (or a tiny pinch, if using ground). Add in two or three minced cloves of garlic, a couple of turns of the black pepper grinder, and some heat of your choice to your degree of tolerance—I used a big pinch of Aleppo pepper, along with a pinch or so of chipotle pepper, but you can also use finely diced fresh chiles of whatever sort you like. Most recipes also called for some amount of onion/scallion; I had meant to use a shallot, but the one I swore we had seemed to have disappeared, so I left it out. Grind everything together to crush and coat the garlic, then add a squeeze of orange and mash up some more. You should have a wet, but still cohesive, paste by the end, so go easy on the citrus.
Chop up half an onion and an additional clove or two of garlic. Heat up some oil in a large pot, then add the spice paste and cook for about a minute. Mix in the onion and cook until just soft, then add the garlic and cook until fragrant. Dump in the lot of squash and mix thoroughly, then add about 1/2 c. veg broth and 1/2 c. coconut milk. Mix well, smoothing out the lumps of squash as you go. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and let simmer, covered, for about 20 minutes. If the soup seems too thick, add more broth and/or coconut milk.
While the soup's a-simmerin', toasted up some pepitas. I prefer heating them up on the stove, because you can keep the seeds moving so they don't burn (and all the tossing makes me feel like some superstar chef), but the oven works, too. Or you could just buy them pre-toasted, if you are a big spender like that. After they've popped, but before they are brown, remove from the heat and hit them with a tiny sprinkle of salt.
When the soup flavors have fully melded, break out your immersion blender (or do small batches in a food processor/blender) and puree until smooth and all the onions are dissolved. Taste and adjust seasonings (specifically the allspice and chiles, but also salt, depending on the sodium content of your broth) as needed.
Ladle into bowls and top with the toasted pepitas and a sprinkling of cocoa nibs. Manchego-cheese crostinis (slices of toasted baguette topped with shredded Manchego, then broiled until the cheese is brown and bubbly) make a nice, if thoroughly unauthentic, touch.
An additional swirl of coconut milk adds a level of unctuousness, or creme fraiche might be nice (though that would un-veganify it). The jerkiness intensifies over time, which is coincidentally what also happens to people (though I suppose "cantankerousness" is a better term, especially if my goal in life is to grow up to be a curmudgeon. And by "grow up," I mean "already am").
Columbus IS the midwest. I know it. You know it. Moltar know it.
ReplyDeleteRemember how you ordered the soup at Skillet for us to split? And then once you tried some, you decided to let me try one spoonful, but then finished the rest? Yeah, I remember.
ReplyDeleteyou snooze, you lose, bucko. also: you had a metric ton of egg and biscuit to finish.
ReplyDelete