Fall

Pumpkins are as much a part of fall as apples, cider, turning leaves, and chilly weather. The months of October and November call out for pumpkins—just think Jack-o'-lanterns and pumpkin pie! Like their brethren squash, pumpkins work well in countless recipes—and not just sweet desserts but savory dishes too.

Soup is one of my favorite ways to enjoy pumpkin. I make it every October. When I cook pumpkin soup, it officially feels like fall. Flavored with a little nutmeg for warmth and then garnished with pumpkin seeds, it's perfectly comforting. (Don't throw away the pumpkin's seeds, use them in this soup.) A hot bowl of soup always warms me right up.

I start this recipe by roasting the pumpkin. But with the shortage in pumpkins, you could also substitute butternut squash or acorn squash. The base of the soup is a vegetable stock, making it vegetarian-friendly. I like to use my own homemade stock because I can flavor it the way I want. 

Salads don't always have to contain green lettuces, like basic iceberg or bibb, other colors, textures, and flavors can make an interesting combination. I love bitter lettuces, such as purple radicchio and white endive. Add pungent cheese, sweet and juicy pears, and crunchy walnuts to the mix, dress it in a Dijon-maple vinaigrette, and it becomes a festive fall salad that can be enjoyed as an elegant appetizer. Roasting the pears with a drizzle of maple syrup creates another level of flavor and intensifies their sweetness. I use Seckel pears, which are a small and quite firm variety of pear. They work extremely well when cooked and don't lose their texture at all, making them ideal in this salad.

Texture is what this salad is all about: the interplay of crunchy, crinkly, smooth, creamy, and crispy. Radicchio, with its deep purple and white leaves, adds color and crinkly texture to the salad. Endive is firm and crunchy in its texture. Both lettuces have a slight bitterness that contrasts well with the sweetness of the pears and of the maple vinaigrette. Further play on texture comes from the creamy Roquefort bleu cheese and crunchy toasted walnuts. Those unfamiliar with such a unique flavor combination might think this salad would be too strong, but it's truly complementary.

We can't think of many things we like better than fondue. We're also pretty fond of cooking things inside other edible things. The confluence of these two circumstances makes Gourmet's Roast Pumpkin with Cheese "Fondue" one of our favorite cold-weather recipes.

This pumpkin fondue recipe, proof that simplicity does not negate decadence, is probably not something you should eat every day -- even if you want to, like us. You'll understand why as you begin to fill the cavity of your pumpkin with toasted baguette slices, cream, stock and more cheese than you'd initially thought necessary.

After you've filled the pumpkin and rubbed the skin with olive oil, it goes into the oven where the pumpkin itself does all the work. You'll hear an occasional crackle in there, the air will start to smell delicious. Beware of smoking ovens from overflowing cream -- this happens nearly every time we make this no matter how much headspace we try to leave inside the pumpkin.

An excerpt from the latest Simon Hopkinson book "Second Helpings of Roast Chicken" published by Hyperion.

One of the most astute observations on the contrary pear was noted exactly by the great Eddie Izzard during one of his wonderful shows. Izzard's gripe and frustration are well grounded. You buy a couple of pounds of slightly under-ripe, clean, and unblemished pears, with the innocent intention of allowing them to ripen up over a few days at home. "Hmmm, yes, I will arrange them in that bowl I think, put them on the sideboard, and enjoy them with some Roquefort on Friday when Michael and Gloria are coming for supper." Then, as if by magic, that very afternoon they will suddenly decide to blotch and bloat, their insides turning to a fluffy mass of woolly flesh, bereft of both taste and texture.

In fact, so frustrating is the fresh pear that when wishing to use some to fashion a hot pear desset, such as the one that follows, I will often find myself reaching for a can of Del Monte. ("This cook he need a perfect pudding? He say yeah!") But then – and I know I'm not alone here – I have always enjoyed a can of fruit, so long as it has been stored in the fridge for a few hours to become really cold. Similarly, its perfect partner, a welter of Carnation Milk, should also be well chilled for maximum enjoyment.