Rachel Roddy's recipe for pumpkin and rice soup
Every now and then, my kitchen and I are like a well-oiled wheel. We are a team, high on efficiency. We keep on top of the contents of the fridge and cupboards (not so much tidy as in tune with each other), spinning meals that produce more meals, managing leftovers and cleaning up as we go along. We marvel at how we have made one lasagne for lunch and another for the freezer, poached the fruit that’s threatening to go off and still have the energy to tidy a drawer.
But highs are followed by lows. Creeping ones to start: low irritation and grumbling discontent at the demands we put on each other, the damp above the sink and the sticky shelf. Creeping turns into stomping and, before you know it, I hate everything and have no idea what to cook. I share cooking and domestic tasks equally with my partner – but not discussion, at this point.
The only person I want to talk to when I feel like this is my younger sister, Rosie. Because I love her, but also because she knows that I am not looking for advice. I want her unspoken understanding about my sticky shelf, then an hour of undiluted chat. The sort you can have only with someone you have known for ever, so that every piece of news, confession, gossip or opinion is weighted with a lifetime of understanding, etched with shared cross references, people, places, bad smells, songs, books. By never ladling out advice, we invariably give each other some. I came off the phone with Rosie the other day, Fiona Apple’s Fast As You Can in my head, feeling fine with my sticky shelf, and redirected my stomping by going for a walk. That night we ordered a curry. The next day, Vincenzo wiped the shelf and I made pumpkin and rice soup.
The pumpkin needs to be tasty for this – dense, rich and sweet – so delica or British crown prince, ideally; alternatively, butternut squash – and the dice should be small enough to fit comfortably in a spoon. The key is a slow start, allowing the onion, carrot and celery to soften gently, developing flavour and turning white to yellow. Once you add the rice, stir every now and then to make sure it doesn’t stick, staying alert that you might need to add a bit more water, and therefore salt, too.
This is an elemental recipe, essentially a pumpkin broth, in which you cook rice, known in Italian as a minestrina. As with all elemental recipes, though, this one invites variations and improvisation. You might like to add a handful of sage, a sausage (the meat squeezed from the casing) or some diced pancetta to the initial fry; and a diced potato is never a bad thing in soup – nor are fat crumbs of blue cheese at the end. I love the way blue cheese – gorgonzola, stilton, roquefort – melts into soup, producing veined puddles. Blue cheese is also an antidote to lows, including kitchen ones, as is chocolate pudding, coming next week. That said, I am not out of this low, and nothing is feeling well-oiled. We are, however, rolling again.
Rice and pumpkin soup
Serves 4
30g butter
3 tbsp olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 carrot, diced
1 stick celery, diced
Salt and black pepper
400g pumpkin or butternut flesh, diced
1 litre vegetable or chicken stock, or water
180g rice (arborio or vialone nano)
2 tbsp grated parmesan, plus extra for serving
Red chilli flakes (optional)
In a large, heavy-based pan or casserole, heat the butter, olive oil, onion, carrot, celery and a pinch of salt, frying gently until the vegetables are starting to turn translucent.
Add the pumpkin and stir for a minute or two so each piece is well-coated and glistening. Add the stock, bring to an almost-boil, then reduce to a simmer for 15 minutes.
Add the rice and simmer, stirring every now and then, for 17-20 minutes, or until it is tender – you may need to add more water. Taste and add the parmesan, more salt and pepper.
Serve, passing round more grated parmesan, olive oil and red chilli flakes for those who want them.
