Acorn Squash and Pear Soup

Spring is fully here and the forsythia bushes along our street have exploded yellow, which is the only aggressive thing forsythia does but it does it with such commitment that I respect it. Hartford in spring is Hartford trying to apologize for winter, and I accept the apology grudgingly, the way I accept all apologies — with conditions and a side of habichuelas.

Sofia is deep into her last semester of high school. She studies at the kitchen table every night, books spread across the surface like a academic buffet, and I cook around her because the kitchen is both my office and her library and we share the space the way Mami and I shared the kitchen in Bayamon — by being in each other way and not minding. I make her snacks while she studies. Tostones at 8 PM. A plate of cheese and crackers at 9. Cafe con leche at 10 because she needs the caffeine and I need the excuse to sit with her and not talk and just be near my daughter while she is still under my roof.

Miguel Jr. and Jenny are deep in wedding planning. They want a November wedding. Jenny mother is involved, which means a white lady from Glastonbury is trying to plan a wedding that will also include the Delgado family, which is like trying to merge a library with a carnival. Jenny mother wants a string quartet. I want a salsa band. We will compromise. The compromise will involve a string quartet that plays salsa, or I will learn to live with disappointment, which I have done before and can do again.

David called from Brooklyn with news — he is being promoted to sous chef at the restaurant. Sous chef at twenty-two. My son, who I taught to make sofrito in my kitchen, is running someone else kitchen. I am proud in the way that only a mother who is also a professional cook can be proud — proud of his talent and also slightly concerned that his technique will drift away from mine, which would be a culinary tragedy and a personal affront. I told him, David, congratulations. Also, are you still making your sofrito from scratch? He said, Yes, Mami. Every day. Good. The foundation holds.

Made sopa de platano tonight — plantain soup, simple, the one I made for the cancer patient at the hospital months ago. But tonight I made it for myself because I needed something warm and simple and honest, the way spring evenings in Hartford need something warm before the real warmth comes. The soup tasted like my hands and my mother hands and my grandmother hands. Three sets of hands in one pot of soup. That is a recipe worth keeping.

Sopa de platano is mine and my mother’s and her mother’s, and I am not giving it away today. But this acorn squash and pear soup carries the same spirit — warm, simple, a little sweet the way comfort should be — and on a Hartford spring evening when your daughter is studying for finals and your son just made sous chef and you are proud enough to burst, this is the kind of soup that holds you steady. It is not my grandmother’s recipe, but it is the same idea: put good things in a pot, cook them honestly, and feed the people you love.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 medium acorn squash (about 3 pounds total), halved and seeded
2 ripe Bartlett pears, peeled, cored, and chopped
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
4 cups vegetable broth
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup half-and-half (optional, for a creamier soup)
Toasted pumpkin seeds, for garnish

Instructions

Roast the squash. Preheat oven to 400°F. Place acorn squash halves cut-side down on a lined baking sheet. Roast for 25–30 minutes, until flesh is fork-tender. Let cool slightly, then scoop out the flesh and discard the skin.
Sauté the aromatics. In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook for 4–5 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Simmer with pears. Add the roasted squash flesh, chopped pears, vegetable broth, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes, until pears are completely soft.
Blend until smooth. Using an immersion blender (or working in batches with a standard blender), puree the soup until silky and smooth. Return to the pot over low heat.
Finish and serve. Stir in half-and-half if using. Taste and adjust salt as needed. Ladle into bowls and garnish with toasted pumpkin seeds.

Nutrition (per serving)

Acorn Squash and Pear Soup — Three Sets of Hands in One Pot