17 October 2008
In another time and another life, autumn became more than it had ever been to me. It became a magical time which meant shorter days, longer nights, chilly ears and, often, a sojourn to another country where there Americanisation of Halloween lent its magic to a (mostly) peaceful landscape where I could rest, read and recharge for a few days surrounded by a family that, though not mine, had nonetheless warmly welcomed me.
It was there that I discovered the magic that is Pumpkin Soup.
I knew that pumpkins were edible before that, of course, but I'd never had any idea what to do with one, should I have attempted a purchase, never mind whether or not I'd actually like it.
It was with a touch of trepidation (and the escargot incident firmly in mind) that I stood in that kitchen, surrounded by boisterous family party preparations and helped to make the hostess make her famed pumpkin soup, knowing full well that I'd have to try it, and if I didn't like it, pretend that I did so as not to seem uncouth, ungrateful or uncultured.
As it turns out, I loved it. One taste was all it took, and I was hooked.
It tasted like autumn. Like family gathered around a fire, chatting and reading books. Like coming in from the cold.
It tasted like home-made soup should, and I had many servings (a HUGE batch had been made for the party). I made an attempt to get the makings of it to bring back to the UK to make more, but for various reasons was foiled, that year and others. In my head, however, autumn had come to be defined by Pumpkin Soup, and and when life changed course, I missed it.
The trouble was, that it was so inextricably linked to that time and that place, that even thinking about it led to the remembrance of things long past, and it, like so many things, became something probably best left where it was.
I still missed it though.
As I write this, the scent of home made pumpkin soup wafts through the doors between here and the kitchen, filling the house with autumn, and it feels good. Like handknit socks and a warm jumper on a cold day.
It won't be exactly like the soup of yore for various reasons, and the fact that I won't actually be eating any of it is besides the point.
I've reclaimed my autumn today, and that's enough.
17 October 2008
Brixton, London
6 September 2008
Lindley Hall, London SW1
19 August 2008
Brixton, London
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
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