The first snow came on Thursday. Not the real snow — the teasing snow, a few inches that melted by Saturday — but enough to coat the ground and remind everyone that winter is not a rumor. Sven went outside and stood in it and looked at the sky as if trying to locate the source of the white things falling on his head. Eleven years of Minnesota winters and the first snow still baffles him.
Halloween is next week. I bought candy — miniature Snickers, as always — and Paul has already eaten four from the bag, which I discovered because the bag was open and Paul's capacity for candy-related stealth is zero. I said nothing. I bought a second bag.
Work was good this week. A patient I've been caring for since July — breast cancer, stage two — finished her treatment. She rang the bell. She cried. I cried. The floor applauded. These moments — the bell, the applause, the crying — they're the counterweight to the other moments, the ones where I hold hands and the hands go still. I need both. Nursing is both.
I called Peter on Sunday. He answered. He sounded marginally better — still flat, but with edges of something that might be resolve. He said, "I'm thinking about what to do." About his marriage, he meant. I said, "Take your time." I wanted to say: be careful. I wanted to say: don't do what Pappa did, don't disappear into a bottle, don't let the hurt turn inward. I said: "Take your time." Sometimes less is more. Sometimes less is all you can manage.
I made a Halloween dinner — not themed, exactly, but seasonally appropriate. Roasted butternut squash soup with sage and brown butter, which is the most October soup you can make: orange, warm, fragrant with the burnt-sugar smell of browned butter. You roast the squash until it's caramelized, blend it with stock and cream, and finish with a swirl of brown butter and a handful of fried sage leaves that shatter when you eat them.
Paul ate two bowls and said, "This is the orange soup." He calls all my squash soups "the orange soup." He has been doing this for decades. I have corrected him each time. He has not adjusted. At some point you stop correcting and start appreciating the consistency.
The candy is by the door. The soup is in the fridge. The snow melted. The leaves are almost gone. We're sliding into November, which slides into December, which brings the neurology appointment, which brings — something. An answer. A name for the thing I won't name.
Until then: soup. Candy. Snow that melts. A dog who doesn't understand precipitation. A husband who calls everything orange. These small, ordinary things. They hold.
The soup I described above — roasted, orange, fragrant — is the one I come back to every October without fail, and this year I leaned into a version that keeps it fully plant-based, which means it travels well to the Thanksgiving table and no one has to ask about the cream. After a week that held a rung bell and a quiet phone call with my son and four stolen Snickers bars, I needed something that required patience but not precision: roast the pumpkin, let the oven do its work, blend it smooth, and trust the process. That’s the whole recipe, really. It’s also, if I’m being honest, a reasonable philosophy for November.
Easy Vegan Pumpkin Soup for Thanksgiving
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 medium sugar pumpkin (about 3 lbs), halved and seeded
- 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
- 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 4 cups vegetable broth, low-sodium
- 1 can (13.5 oz) full-fat coconut milk
- 1 tablespoon pure maple syrup
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- Toasted pumpkin seeds and fresh thyme, for garnish
Instructions
- Roast the pumpkin. Preheat oven to 400°F. Brush the cut sides of the pumpkin halves with 1 tablespoon olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Place cut-side down on a parchment-lined baking sheet and roast for 40–45 minutes, until the flesh is very tender and the edges are deeply caramelized. Let cool slightly, then scoop the flesh away from the skin.
- Saute the aromatics. While the pumpkin roasts, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until softened and translucent. Add the garlic, cumin, ginger, nutmeg, and smoked paprika and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
- Build the soup. Add the roasted pumpkin flesh to the pot along with the vegetable broth. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat. Cook for 5 minutes to let the flavors meld.
- Blend until smooth. Using an immersion blender (or carefully working in batches with a standard blender), puree the soup until completely smooth and velvety. Return to the pot if needed.
- Finish with coconut milk. Stir in the coconut milk and maple syrup. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt, pepper, and additional maple syrup as desired. Warm over low heat — do not boil — until heated through.
- Serve and garnish. Ladle into bowls and top with a swirl of coconut milk from the can, a scatter of toasted pumpkin seeds, and a few fresh thyme leaves. Serve with crusty bread for a complete meal.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 215 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 23g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 460mg
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 83 of Linda’s 30-year story
· Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.