Easter lamb, oven-baked pumpkin slices and agrodolce syrup
Modern life has become poorer in ceremony and rituals, and although many table traditions and food symbolism have been lost as a result, the rhythm of each season still reminds us of soulful things. Autumn means Easter, harvest time, and the final gathering before winter; a moderate, contemplative transitional season between the extremes of summer and winter.
It is now that I reach for one of my favourite cookbooks, The Supper of the Lamb by theologian and chef Robert Farrar Capon. He reminds us that eating is a sacrament through which we can celebrate the miracle of life every day. Although leg of lamb may be too expensive for everyday cooking, it is a worthy symbol of the extraordinary; something we save for a celebration.
Another piece of beloved reading that accompanies my autumn cooking is André P. Brink’s ode
Die dag van die Pampoen from his Latin travels in which he writes: “There are days when we are sore and angry with the people over the long sea or beyond; and there are days when we feel cast out. But on the Day of the Pumpkin, we eat ourselves a path back to the inner heart of our farmer selves, into the belly of the wonderful orange sun.”
Ian and I are both pumpkin patriots. We salute every type and shape, whether it’s the boer pumpkin, hubbard or the pale Crown Prince; thin-skinned pumpkin still green from the field or sundried on a tin roof. Pumpkin appears in stews, soups and can even be pickled; baked until brown with bread cubes and glittering yellow sugar, as heirloom marankies stewed with honey and cinnamon sticks, or as an unusual cold pumpkin salad with ponzu-roasted pepitas. Ian will give up his inheritance for oldfashioned pumpkin fritters with cinnamon sugar. I, on the other hand, make them the Portuguese way, with plenty of brandy and orange. (Ian has even participated in a photography exhibition with his series of Crown Prince pumpkins on a pedestal.)
With its orange vestment boldly heralding the arrival of autumn, pumpkin is undoubtedly the vegetable ambassador of this season. The character of this worthy flavour companion for lamb emerges as the sugars caramelise, and the hum of the chilli flakes makes a statement of its own. The flavour combination of agrodolce (pronounced “ah-grohDOLE-cheh”) is also employed to further enliven the pumpkin. Honey and vinegar are reduced to a sticky consistency, forming a sweet-sour balance between the two contrasting tastes. It’s a flavour particularly characteristic of the Sicilian kitchen, but we South Africans have our own sweet-and-sour culture.