Passport & Plate - Curried butternut squash soup with grilled prawns
Canada | Friday, March 6, 2015 | 5 photos
Ingredients
4 cups of pureed squash (I prefer butternut)
1 medium white onion - diced
1 bulb of garlic - diced
5 strips of lean bacon
2 tbs of butter or olive oil
3 tbs flour
3 tbs medium-spice curry powder
4 cups vegetable broth
5 sprigs of green onion - diced
1 1/2 cup half-and-half cream or unsweetened almond milk
20 shelled, uncooked black prawns
2 tbs olive oil
2 tbs lemon juice
How to prepare this recipe1. Prepare squash by roasting in oven at 375ºC for about 1 hour or until skin starts to bubble and flesh is tender. Can also use canned squash.
2. Let squash cool, remove skin and then puree in a large bowl with an immersion blender.
While squash is cooling begin preparing other ingredients
1. Fry bacon in a large pan until crispy.
2. Remove bacon and drain half the fat.
3. Add the diced onion and garlic to the pan and fry until it starts to crisp. Remove from heat and save for later.
4. In a large pot, melt butter (or oil) with flour and curry powder, stirring on a low heat to keep from bubbling.
5. Slowly add broth while stirring, and allow mixture to thicken.
6. Add the cooked onions and garlic
7. Turn stove to a medium heat and add pureed squash.
8. Add half-and-half cream (or almond milk)
9. Dice cooled bacon and add 3/4 of it to the pot. Save the rest for a garnish
10. Add salt and pepper to taste and let simmer with a lid on a medium heat stirring occasionally.
11. While soup is simmering, prepare prawns by adding to a bowl with olive oil and lemon juice.
12. Grill on a hot bbq for 4 minutes or until skin becomes opaque.
13. Add cooked prawns to soup, saving a few for plating.
14. Serve soup and top individual bowls with remaining bacon, green onion and remaining prawns.
The story behind this recipeSometimes, a recipe is not handed down through the loving guidance of a grandmother, or the culinary tutelage of a gastronomic god.
Sometimes, on a cold October Sunday in Richmond, B.C., a recipe is born out of spite.
The lineup inched closer to the kiosk where a hapless teenager dressed as Little Bo Peep doled out tickets to parents with screaming children.
My girlfriend, Laura, and I had waited in the pumpkin patch lineup for 30 minutes while being serenaded by farting pigs and chickens clucking so rapidly we could only assume they had been stricken with Tourette’s.
"Two?" said Bo Peep as we reached the head of the line. "That's $40."
"What, $40 just to get into a bloody pumpkin patch?" I responded. Bo Peep could sense my contempt and tried to sweeten the deal.
"Yes, it includes a wagon ride and you each can choose a pumpkin," she said.
Having promised Laura we would carve pumpkins, I reluctantly handed Bo Peep the cash and we walked through the gates.
"I'm going to find the biggest freakin' pumpkin in this patch," I said.
After 45 minutes of searching and two ditch crossings that ended with wet feet, the orange beast appeared before me. A 65-pound behemoth.
My eyes narrowed. I wrapped my hands around its stem and gave a tug. The beast fought back, refusing to budge. A readied myself for another attempt and assumed a position akin to an Olympic weight lifter.
In a herculean feat I managed to hoist the bulbous freak onto my back. As we made our way to the exit children pointed and fathers pulled out their cameras, no doubt in awe of the giant gourd hoisted over my Lilliputian frame.
We were through the exit by the time Bo Peep saw us. She yelled something about the ticket only being good for a small pumpkin but we were too far away to care.
“What the hell are you going to do with all that pumpkin?” asked Laura.
Two months, 65 pounds of pumpkin and 21 pots of soup later, a new recipe and tradition lives.
