"I'm making soup too!"
"What kind?" My mom texted back.
"A made-up kind. I roasted a kabocha squash, and while it was cooking I sautéed carrots, celery, onion & rosemary in olive oil until soft. I added the roasted squash and a mix of chicken broth and duck stock. I had also roasted a bunch of garlic cloves, and I smashed half of them and added it to the pot (the rest are going into soft butter for garlic bread). Soon I'll purée the squash mixture with some more duck stock. I've also cooked shaved Brussels sprouts with bacon to garnish/stir into the soup. I'm really looking forward to it, though the boys will balk!"
That was three weeks ago. The boys did not, in fact, balk, and the soup was rich and earthy and belly-warming and the garlic bread was pungent and soft, and it was such an all-around pleasant affair, what with the swirling snow outside and the glowing candles inside, and the flame-orange soup served in the much-loved childhood soup bowls that I inherited at Christmastime.