A gathering of winter squash.  Clockwise from lower left: Acorn, Delicata, Turban, Kuri, Butternut. — A gathering of winter squash. Clockwise from lower left: *Acorn, Delicata, Turban, Kuri, Butternut.*

Squash soup has a short window. Strange, really, as winter squashes are available as early as September, and, if stored correctly, would last right through to spring. But a piping bowl of golden soup seems irrelevant outside of, say, a six week period between October and November. In the pro column: a short life span justifies overindulgence.

Choosing the correct squash for soup is critical. I prefer squash from the cucurbita moschata genus, the hard and smooth skinned squash that include cheese pumpkins and butternuts. These have sweet, dense flesh with little fiber or graining, few seeds and very good flavor. Acorn squash (cucurbita pepo) is another good candidate, but others from that family are less desirable for soup: spaghetti gets is name from the stringy composition of its flesh; delicata, as its name suggests, is mild. A good soup is both smooth and rich.

Don’t trust those recipes that begin with chopping winter squashes. Breaking a squash down into chunks is not just unnecessary; it’s downright dangerous. A butternut squash is an awkwardly shaped, wobbly and heavy thing on which to be practicing knife skills. Instead, just split it lengthwise. This is done most effectively with the heaviest knife in the drawer and controlled thumps with the heel of the non-dominant hand. Once split, scoop the seeds and strings, if any. Slather on a stick or two of softened butter, wrap cut-side up in foil and roast. Two hours in a three hundred degree oven should do it.

As much as I care for the safety of fingers, there is another reason I urge minimal processing of the squash. The raw flesh itself is dense and unpalatable. To coax from it deep, sweet and nutty flavors, the water content must slowly evaporate, leaving behind cooked sugar and starch. A whole or split squash not only requires a long cooking time at a low temperature, it encourages greater concentration as less exposed surface area is available to immediate evaporation, and subsequent browning and, inevitably, drying. I’m not interested in browned or caramelized squash; I want evenly cooked, concentrated and golden flesh.

Once cooked, the flesh should be scraped from its shell into a sieve and pushed through to remove any stringy fiber. The result should be thick, evenly colored and fragrant. This is a squash base, unseasoned, unadulterated and ready for any number of applications. I must pause here to address this moment—one where squash preparations often go pear-shaped. Perhaps because of the romantic, autumnal connotations, perhaps because of the flowing Gewürztraminer, perhaps, even, because of the exotic and voluptuous shapes—whatever the reason, the urge might strike to add a host of ingredients, from molasses to cinnamon. I will counter with this more humble suggestion: try the cooked squash. Determine the sweetness; look for the muted, savory vegetable character. If, after a minute’s full consideration, the urge to unleash the full force of the spice rack is overwhelming, have at it. I can only speak from experience; I want my squash soup to taste of squash.

Melt half a stick of unsalted butter in the bottom of a heavy stock pot. Sprinkle in two tablespoons of flour, stirring until smooth. Add more butter if the roux looks dry; it should flow. Cook the roux, stirring continuously, for four minutes over medium heat, or until it just starts to brown and become fragrant. Add two cups of finely cut mirepoix, a sprig of thyme and desired seasonings to the roux, cooking until softened. Add the squash base, stirring until incorporated. Continue cooking over medium heat for an additional five minutes, taking care not to burn the squash. Add a half cup of dry white wine, stirring to incorporate. Once evaporated, slowly add six cups of room temperature water or light, clear chicken stock, stirring continuously. Bring up to boil, reduce to a simmer. Simmer for an hour before blending—either in a blender or with an immersion blender. Stir in a cup of lukewarm heavy cream. Adjust seasoning. Gently simmer for an additional five minutes. Serve using garnishes judiciously (i.e., rendered bacon, soured cream, buttered croutons, toasted squash seeds, toasted pine nuts, chopped fresh herbs, etc).