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Butternut Squash Soup — The Fall Pot Dorothy Makes When the Air Gets Cool and the Garden Still Has Sage

Halloween week. The children at school are vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. Every conversation is about costumes and candy and haunted houses, and the cafeteria is decorated with paper bats that Big Mike hung from the ceiling with fishing line because he is six foot four and doesn't need a ladder. I am not a Halloween person, I'll be honest. I grew up Baptist in the South, and Hattie Pearl considered Halloween a holiday for the devil, and while I don't go that far, I've never been one for spooky things. But I like seeing the kids happy, and I made orange-frosted cupcakes for Friday's lunch that had nothing to do with my baking skills and everything to do with wanting to see four hundred small faces light up.

The cupcakes were simple — vanilla cake, orange cream cheese frosting tinted with food coloring, and chocolate sprinkles on top. LaVerne helped me frost them during the morning prep. Tammy drew faces on some of them with chocolate icing — jack-o-lantern grins, some lopsided, some crooked, which only made them better. When the kids came through the line and saw the cupcakes, you would have thought we'd given them gold. One boy said, "Miss Dot, you made us Halloween cupcakes?" I said, "I made you Friday cupcakes. They just happen to be orange." He didn't care about the distinction. He ate two.

Denise brought Monique and Andre over Saturday for pumpkin carving, which is a tradition Earl started when the kids were small — not our kids, the grandkids. He used to do the carving himself, but now his hands shake too much for knives, so he supervises from his chair, same as the garden. "Cut the mouth bigger." "That eye is crooked." "The nose needs work." Monique carved a pumpkin that looked like a cat. Andre carved one that looked like a car accident. Earl said Andre's was "abstract." Andre was pleased.

I roasted the pumpkin seeds — tossed in olive oil, salt, and a little smoked paprika — and we ate them on the porch while the pumpkins glowed on the steps. The marsh was dark and quiet and the neighbor kids were out trick-or-treating, their flashlights bobbing like fireflies. Earl fell asleep in his porch chair and I covered him with a blanket and sat with him in the dark, and it was not Halloween to me. It was just a Tuesday night with the man I love and the pumpkin seeds and the quiet, and that was better than any candy.

I made butternut squash soup this week too — roasted squash, onion, apple, a little sage from the garden, blended smooth. Fall soups are my love language, baby. When the air gets cool, I get a pot.

Now go on and feed somebody.

That soup was already on my mind before Halloween even got there — something about sitting quiet in the dark with Earl, the air turning cold off the marsh, just made me want something warm and simple and honest. Butternut squash soup is that for me every single fall: nothing fancy, just good ingredients roasted until they’re sweet and soft and ready to become something. Here’s how I make it.

Butternut Squash Soup with Apple and Sage

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 large butternut squash (about 3 lbs), halved lengthwise and seeded
  • 1 large yellow onion, roughly chopped
  • 1 medium apple (Honeycrisp or Granny Smith), peeled, cored, and chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, smashed
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 4 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
  • 6 fresh sage leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried rubbed sage)
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 cup heavy cream (optional, for a richer finish)

Instructions

  1. Roast the squash. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with foil and brush it with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Place the squash halves cut-side down on the sheet. Roast for 35 to 40 minutes, until the flesh is completely tender when pierced with a fork. Let cool for 10 minutes, then scoop the flesh out with a large spoon and set aside. Discard the skins.
  2. Soften the aromatics. While the squash roasts, heat the remaining tablespoon of olive oil in a large heavy pot over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
  3. Build the soup. Add the roasted squash flesh, chopped apple, broth, and sage leaves to the pot. Stir to combine. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 15 minutes, until the apple is completely soft.
  4. Blend until smooth. Remove from heat. Use an immersion blender directly in the pot to blend until completely smooth, about 2 minutes. If using a countertop blender, let the soup cool slightly, then blend in batches with the lid held firmly in place with a folded kitchen towel. Return the blended soup to the pot.
  5. Season and finish. Stir in the salt, pepper, and nutmeg. If you want a richer, creamier soup, stir in the heavy cream now. Return the pot to low heat and warm through for 3 to 5 minutes. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
  6. Serve hot. Ladle into bowls. A drizzle of olive oil, a few pumpkin seeds, or a small sprig of fresh sage on top is pretty if you feel like it — but it’s just as good plain, straight from the pot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 190 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 29g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 470mg

Dorothy Henderson
About the cook who shared this
Dorothy Henderson
Week 31 of Dorothy’s 30-year story · Savannah, Georgia
Dot Henderson is a seventy-one-year-old grandmother, a retired school lunch lady, and the undisputed queen of Lowcountry cooking in her corner of Savannah, Georgia. She spent thirty-five years feeding schoolchildren — sneaking extra portions to the ones who looked hungry — and now she feeds her seven grandchildren every Sunday without exception. She cooks with lard, seasons by feel, and ends every recipe the same way her mama did: "Now go on and feed somebody."

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