The Butternut Squash Soup Recipe You Should Make Now!

Butternut squash is so beautiful. Butternut squash is so tasty. Butternut squash is so versatile. 

Roasted. Sautéed. Soups. And in every other way you can imagine. 

I started growing butternut squash in my garden about three or four years ago. Maybe five. Why did I wait so long? What was I thinking?

One of the go-to recipes for my family all winter long is courtesy of the legendary Emeril Lagasse and the Food Network.

It's the Smoked Sausage, Butternut Squash and Wild Rice Soup recipe that's an absolute knockout. It is absolutely amazing when I make it with my butternut squash from my garden. 

The kids love it, too! I mean, how can you go wrong with sausage and wild rice and butternut squash from your garden?

I live in Virginia. Home of shirt-soaking hot and humid summers. Think sweat and mildew and disease in plants. 

This past summer I tried these amazing seeds from Southern Exposure Seed Exchange. They are South Anna Butternut Squash plants that are Downy Mildew resistant. They did fabulous and were still growing right up to the first hard frost that just happened overnight!

Find the seeds here!

And find the soup recipe here!

Finally, enjoy!

A good pepper makes your mouth water when you think about it

Thoughts on some of my summer garden bounty, as fall arrives crisply and the first killing frost looms.

Good peppers make your mouth water. If you just think about them.

Good peppers catch your eye. Maybe they even stop you in your tracks.

You stop and stare and think about the possibilities. You think about whether it's a little spicy.

Or if it brings a good dose of heat. Will your eyes tear up?

Will you need to gulp water or will it be just hot enough to make you want more?

Maybe your pepper is hot enough to set your tongue and whole face on fire. 

Really good peppers, like the ones from my garden up there, do all of those things.

Good dry beans make you dream. You dream about their subtleties. Earthy. Meaty. Delicate. 

A good bean has a way of absorbing other flavors when you soak it and cook it. It softens up so it practically melts in your mouth.

You can cook it with a little garlic. An onion. Or rosemary. Cumin. 

Then you couple the beans with a lovely partner. 

Say, in risotto. Or with pasta.

In soups. As a paste. Sautéed in olive oil on toast.

A personal favorite of mine is a dish I created. I'll tell you about it later. It's amazing!

Really good beans, like the ones from my garden up there, mean you open up your mind and explore the possibilities. 

My first attempt to grow a Jarrahdale pumpkin in my garden is a success!

Behold our 15-lb. Jarrahdale pumpkin!

It's no secret I like to grow things you might not find in any garden, let alone a typical garden. Purple green beans, Tiger's eye and Sorana beans for soups, heirloom Oaxacan Green or Hopi Turquoise corn that's blue or purple or differing shades of green. This summer and fall I experimented with Jarrahdale pumpkins. They are big and blue that are orange and tender and orange on the inside--think butternut squash--and great for baking or in soups. At least that's what I'm told because we haven't cut into one yet!

Seth, Olivia, and Judah model our first Jarrahdale pumpkin!

I bought the seeds from Baker Creek Heirloom Seed Co. and planted in July after harvesting my Oaxacan Green corn. Something to note: The vines can take over your garden! If you have the space, these Jarrahdale pumpkins will roam, climb, wander, cling, and spread all over the place! They are resilient because my other squash really suffered from disease this year, but not these Jarrahdale pumpkins! It was also a really dry fall with drought conditions and the Jarrahdale pumpkins made it just fine. I harvested the first 15-lb. pumpkin today and have several more in the garden.

I'm loving this Jarrahdale pumpkin from my garden!

Don't you think these pumpkins are gorgeous! And a nice touch for fall decorations if you like DIY decorating. Pair them with other colorful pumpkins and you have great taste in decor!

My Summer Garden Has Been Bountiful, Delicious, and Amazing!

Heirloom tomatoes from my garden

My fascination with gardening probably now qualifies as an addiction. Healthy addiction, I would say. I think about it all year round. I have secret stashes of Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds seed catalogs. My Twitter and Instagram feeds are chock full of random photos of heirloom tomatoes, green beans, purple green beans, soup beans, corn, squash, pumpkins, sunflowers, zinnias ... my iPhone screen is a photo of 3 varieties of my heirloom corn. I might have more photos of my garden than my kids on my phone ... uh-oh.

Heirloom soup beans: Sorana (white), Rosso di Lucca (red) and Tiger's Eye (self-explanatory)

I like to experiment with new varieties and veggies. For example, this year I took the plunge into soup beans. I decided to grow several different varieties because I love to make soups in the winter and fall. I bought the seeds from Uprising Organic Seeds in Bellingham, Washington, and Southern Exposure Seed Exchange in Mineral, Virginia. Judging from the photo up there ^ it's been quite a successful bean growing adventure, wouldn't you say?

Red Sun Sunflowers are gorgeous! Birds love 'em.

I also dedicated some space for flowers this year. I planted two different varieties of sunflowers (the red sun you see up there ^ are particularly gorgeous, eh?), zinnias, and strawflowers. They have been a striking and eye-pleasing addition to the garden. Plus there's been an added bonus: Butterflies, bees, dragonflies, and birds galore such as yellow finches, cardinals, and even hummingbirds. My Red Sun Sunflowers grew up to 8 or 9 feet high and attracted lots of birds. My neighbor told me that she's lived here 6 years and this is the first time she's seen American Goldfinches around and they practically lived in my sunflowers.

Oaxacan Green corn. Tortillas! Cornbread!

My second year of growing heirloom Oaxacan Green corn was a rousing success. Some of the stalks reached 10 feet and I am flush with corn to grind up for cornbread and to make into delicious tortillas this winter. I think the corn is just gorgeous as well. Looks good, tastes good. An excellent combination.

Bread 'n Salt tomato baby! That's 20 oz. of goodness!

June and into mid- to late July were amazing for my tomatoes that I transplanted from seeds I grew under grow lights in my shed. I was harvesting several different varities off of 30+ plants 20 lbs. at a time. Then disease set in. So sad. But that's life in Virginia's humid summers I suppose. Gardening will break your heart sometimes. I am thinking of staggering my planting next year and giving them more space, hoping that will make a difference. Once again we had boatloads of amazing pico de gallo this year and I froze and canned somewhere around 20 lbs. of tomatoes. You know I love to bake and cook and one thing I started doing is making my own spaghetti sauce. It's unbelievable. That's not hyperbole. Ask my family. Just for you, I've included a slightly modified recipe I cribbed from Marcella Hazan (Link to her recipe: Marcella Hazan spaghetti sauce) See my modified version below.

Extremely rare Tomato 'n Pepper Starfish I found in my garden!

My garden is still going. I have more soup beans, green beans, and blue Jarrahdale pumpkins coming along. I'm truly stoked to be making soup out of my beans this winter. I'll keep you posted.

Spaghetti Sauce recipe That Will Change the Way You Think of Spaghetti Sauce

28 oz. of tomatoes chopped up & drained

1 stick butter

1-2 t of Diamond Crystal kosher salt

2 green bell peppers seeded and cut in chunks (Love growing Carolina Wonder bell peppers!)

1 Vidalia or Walla Walla sweet onion cut in half (otherwise a plain ol' yeller onion will have to do)

At least 10 fresh basil leaves (I grew basil this year)

Fresh oregano (another herb I grow)

Combine it all and bring to a simmer. Then let simmer uncovered for 45-60 min. to burn off liquid. Blend it all in a blender. Put on spaghetti noodles after tasting. Immediately be wrecked for ever buying spaghetti sauce in a can or jar at the store again.

Note: This uses no sugar. Next time you check the label on your store-bought spaghetti sauce notice the 2nd ingredient. Sugar. Ew. 

Seed to table. Dirt to mouth. The fabulous Authentic Corn Tortilla Project.

My babies. What stories we'll tell together.

I'm calling my farmtastical journey this summer the "Authentic Corn Tortilla Project." I bet you've heard nothing quite like it. There's a reason for that.

I have this crazy idea -- a notion, a fever, or maybe it's just a plain ol' halluciation -- that I can make something different, something good, something unique that starts in the dirt out by my shed just the other side of my drain field. Well, plenty the other side of my drain field.

I'm not sure if it's brilliant, or foolish. The line separating the two seems pretty darn thin.

My idea to make real corn tortillas from really old school corn with genes that go back hundreds, if not thousands, of years was birthed out of my own observations. It started with the corn I let dry on the stalk last summer and thinking, "What the heck? Couldn't I make corn flour out of this stuff?"

You know, for like cornbread? And, well, grits?

The answer proved to be yes. Or near as I could tell it was yes. Thanks to some fortuitous discoveries on the world wide web of the history of corn and masa -- the kinda gooey, corn flour-based substance from which legit tortillas are made -- some video of some hardcore food truck guys in LA who are really, really passionate about their tortillas, and assorted other articles and videos about ancient Mexican corn strains, I thought, "Why not?"

Why not try it here in my back yard? Why can't I go all foodie-grow-your-own with a big splash of experimentation that could, it really could, end up being amazing?

So here I am. On a chilly spring night listening to raindrops clattering against my office window, a day after I planted those first 50 seeds of Hopi Purple Corn. I'm plotting to plant a couple more squares of corn and wondering how -- if? -- it will all play out.

I scored my corn seeds from a catalog that was produced in podunk Missouri. For reals. Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds. You can find them at www.rareseeds.com. They produce this gloriously extravagant 146-page catalog and sell more than 1,800 varieties of seeds from more than 100 countries.

Seriously. These guys don't play when it comes to seeds.

Tomatoes from Iraq? Done. Cassabanana melons from Guatemala? Just a click away. And don't forget your wild apple seeds from Tajikstan. I don't kid! This stuff will literally blow your mind!

I mean, dude, it's a gardening nerd's paradise. I know because I'm one of those gardening nerds.

So yes, I really did just drop some purple corn seeds into a plot of dirt that I carved out of my back yard and fertilized with a pickup load of bona fide horse poop I got for free from a horse farm off Hickory Fork Road.

I'll water those seeds, let the rain fall on my corn, take photos and videos of it all. I'm not embarrassed to say I'll be out there speaking kind words to those babies of mine. I believe in positive reinforcement after all.

My lovelies. My early inspiration from last summer. 

I'll watch my corn grow in the oppressive, sultry Virginia heat. Then I'll watch my corn dry in the oppressive, sultry Virginia heat. Then I'll harvest my corn in the oppressive, sultry Virginia heat.

I'm worried about the bugs. So nasty, those bugs. The weeds are going to be a straight nuisance. I foresee lots of sweaty labor in my near future.

It'll all be worth it. Right?

Of course, because sometime late this summer, in the oppressive, sultry Virginia heat, after the stalks have shriveled and crunch like potato chips and the ears of corn have dried to like they're little tiny rocks, it'll be time.

Come to purple tortilla time.

I'll grind up the corn, tap my buddy Frank Villa's family masa-manufacturing expertise, and make those blessed purple tortillas. We'll have purple tortilla chips and dip them in salsa I make with onions, tomatoes and poblano peppers that I harvest right out of my garden, just a row or two from my corn. They'll all be best buds this summer.

Seed to table.

Dirt to mouth.

That's the plan.

I mean, that's my dream.

You start something and you never quite know how it will all turn out.

That's what's so great about it, though. It's what's so great about dreams. The finding out. The chasing. The determination to see things through. The seeing if you have it. That grit. That passion and drive.

The worst thing you can ever do is not try.

So here goes. Come along for the ride.

The great, the fabulous, the crazy Authentic Corn Tortilla Project.

For the YouTube version of all this tomfoolery, go here: Getting corny