Punkin' Soup in April's Kitchen

One reason I never managed to make a decent pumpkin soup is because I was so blocked up by the boring, traditional New England cliché of nutmeg, ginger, cinnamon and clove, more apropos for pie than soup.

The other day I dropped in to say hi to my friend, Chef April Bloomfield in her kitchen at Spotted Pig. You know you're in heaven; you can smell it. Our conversation often goes something like: "D'you feel like something to eat?"
That’s her, all the time; so gracious, and me shy. I just dropped in to share a hug, but she's such an amazing cook; passing up anything she offers is insane. Besides, I love to eat.

"Not really hungry, um but well, what have you got?"
"Soup"
"Soup? Interesting; what kind?"
"Just Pumpkin".

My pumpkin soups were always losers, so I just had to see what she did. Well, it was thick, almost porridge like, chunks of pumpkin of varying sizes from almost a puree to coarse pieces. There was additional body from farro – the ancient grain of Rome; marjoram; rich, hearty chicken stock; sweated onions with pancetta, just allowed to color. Two soup spoons landed into a warm bowl as I stood there in her about to be slammed kitchen. The dinner action was beginning to swirl around her, but April is not fazed in the least. Before she let me taste it: “Would you like some olive oil?”
“DUH, OF COURSE! “ She pours on a healthy stream of spicy. rich, green Tuscan olive oil. One sniff and I knew I was in the presence of a master (again). One taste and I wished I hadn’t insisted on a tiny portion, but she wisely offered me more without my asking. I was having a body high. It had the taste of the squash, but with nothing to hide or augment it. It’s a quiet flavor, so pure you need to be careful to not overwhelm it. Pumpkin is not a flavor you want to mask; not if you know how to show it to its best.

I was a chef years ago, designated ‘Master Chef’ at that time, but chefs like April and her colleagues are doing things now that I never dreamed of. Like I came from a past era to a time when things happened while I was sleeping. Rip van Foodie.

If I get my own TV show, I would take my stomach and raid the great kitchens of the world. Yum.