Photo Courtesy of Manger
Last night, my sister made butternut squash soup. To thank her, I made a crack about throwing on a cardigan over my maxi dress and procuring a cornucopia centerpiece. The soup hearkens back to a particular season, or the complete opposite of warm weather. So, like most days, I had an epiphany: I really love associating food with seasons, and I am not fond of consuming anything that tries to plop me down in November when it’s July. Had she called it “Spring Butternut Squash Soup” I may have been less ornery, once the initial confusion subsided. That’s why I am drawn to this dish, all because I see the word “Spring” and believe it’s the season’s signature meal. Perhaps this will open the door for “Spring Thanksgiving Turkey,” but let’s hope not.