By The first week of October, and the library's annual banned books display is up — this year featuring "The Bluest Eye" by Toni Morrison, a novel that has been banned for being "too disturbing" and that I consider one of the most necessary novels in the American canon, necessary precisely because it disturbs, because the disturbance is the education, because a library that does not disturb is a warehouse.
Carrie called from Kyoto at three AM Charleston time — she forgets the time difference, or she does not forget it but considers her news too important for time zones. The news: she visited a temple where monks cook shojin ryori, Buddhist vegetarian cuisine prepared with the same reverence that Mama brings to Sunday dinner — every cut deliberate, every ingredient honored, the cooking a meditation, the meditation a prayer. "Mom," she said, "it's the same thing. The monks and Grandma are doing the same thing." The same thing: cooking as worship. I have been writing about this for six years. My nineteen-year-old daughter found it in a temple in Kyoto.
Robert is building a new bookshelf — not for me, for Joy. He is building it for Joy's room at Magnolia House, sized to hold the art books I have been giving her: books about Monet, about Matisse, about the Gullah painters of the Lowcountry. Joy cannot read the books, but she looks at the pictures the way she looks at the world: with total attention, without judgment, absorbing the color and the form the way a garden absorbs rain.
I made pumpkin soup — the October soup, the soup that signals the seasonal shift from the light soups of summer to the heavy soups of winter. The soup was smooth and spiced and warm, and Robert ate two bowls while reading on the piazza, and the eating and the reading and the piazza were the October evening, and the October evening was the life.
The soup I made that evening was simple — smooth pumpkin, warm spices, nothing fussy — but it held the whole weight of October in it, the way a good seasonal recipe does when you let it. Carrie’s call from Kyoto was still ringing in my head, that idea of cooking as worship, every ingredient honored, and I kept thinking that pumpkin in autumn is its own kind of liturgy: you make it because the season asks you to, because the body asks you to, because the shift from light to heavy is a thing worth marking at the table. These pumpkin recipes — from morning through evening — are how I keep honoring that signal all month long.
Pumpkin Breakfast Recipes
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 cup pumpkin puree (not pumpkin pie filling)
- 2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
- 2 cups milk or unsweetened oat milk
- 2 tablespoons maple syrup, plus more to taste
- 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 2 eggs, lightly beaten (for pumpkin egg scramble variation)
- 1/2 cup chopped toasted pecans, for serving
- Whipped cream or coconut cream, optional for serving
Instructions
- Combine base. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, whisk together the pumpkin puree, milk, maple syrup, pumpkin pie spice, cinnamon, and salt until smooth and well combined.
- Add oats. Stir in the rolled oats and bring the mixture to a gentle simmer, stirring frequently to prevent sticking.
- Cook through. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook for 8—10 minutes, stirring regularly, until the oats are tender and the porridge has thickened to your preferred consistency. Add more milk a splash at a time if it thickens too much.
- Finish and season. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract. Taste and adjust maple syrup or spices as needed.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with toasted pecans, a drizzle of maple syrup, and whipped cream or coconut cream if desired. Serve immediately while warm.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 290 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 175mg