Pumpkin and Rice Soup with Za'atar Croutons Recipe

If it looks as though I've been applying fake tan lately I can explain. I've been eating a LOT of pumpkin; so much that an orange hue has surely seeped into my pores by this point. I've tried a few new pumpkin recipes, in search of an interesting dish full of flavor and spice. The one I'm sharing with you here, which the writer calls 'the comfort blanket of the Middle Eastern soup world', allows the pumpkin's flavour to shine as it crackles with an exotic mix of spices.

Around this time of year cheery jack-o-lantern festooned recipes crop up everywhere, all calling for pumpkin as their primary ingredient. Frustratingly most pumpkin recipes I've seen give no guidance on what type of pumpkin is best to use, thus many cooks undoubtedly buy a big orange guy and are disappointed with the results. It's become common practice to substitute butternut squash for pumpkin, as 'carving' pumpkins have flesh that is quite watery and tasteless.

Smoky Black Bean and Roast Tomato Soup Recipe

I've been craving dinner earlier than usual recently. My appetite gets discombobulated in the autumn, as the sky darkens at an ever-quickening pace, similar to the confusion jet lag inflicts. Alex has poked his head round the kitchen door a couple of times this week exclaiming, "Are you already making dinner?" If I was married to an 80 year old my timing would be spot on.

Not only is dusk nudging in but the temperature has turned officially chilly — I feel the need to insulate from within. Soup season has arrived.

Salad Soup

It's kind of a soup. It's sort of a salad. From certain angles it could even be seen as an open-faced sandwich. But one thing's for sure — this delicious dish is a big bowl of summer freshness that makes a perfect mid-year supper.

Now I love slap-you-in-the-face flavours, but this recipe celebrates the delicateness of June produce. Combined, the seasonal vegetables and herbs create a surprisingly zingy taste sensation. The textures of this dish elevate it to a level where you stop saying it's good, and just make pleasing noises while you spoon it in. Lettuce, wilted with a bit of crunch still in it; crusty chewy sourdough toast; creamy bites of broad bean and a broth laced with velvety olive oil. She ain't bad to look at either, the varying shades of gentle green sit atop the sunny golden toast, all dusted with a white flurry of parmesan.

Tarragon Twosome (part one)

I hate to waste food, but find fresh herbs all too regularly end up in the compost caddy. You buy a pack of say, sage, for a recipe, use the tablespoon required and then the poor delicately scented little lamb’s ears get tossed back in the fridge, the last they hear is murmuring about how you’ll use it again. It holds out hope — surely she’s coming back for me — and then a week later it’s nestled in amongst the peelings and coffee grinds ready for composting. I’m sorry sage. I’m trying. This weekend another herb had better luck, as I chose two recipes to make on the same day that call for tarragon; a plant that would look at home swaying on the bottom of the sea.

Tarragon is a divisive flavour, and it certainly does not disappear in a dish. But I disagree with the common notion that it tastes of liquorice; based on the indisputable evidence that I detest liquorice and I like tarragon. Fennel, with its subtle sweetness, is a closer match. But trying to compare tarragon to other flavours is like trying to compare Bjork to other singers. Its taste is fascinatingly odd and unique.