It was 6 o’clock on a Friday night when I walked into the supermarket. Pre-dinner shoppers, who like me were all suffering from decision fatigue, clogged aisles and wavered between prepared food stations in the all-too-often torturing ordeal of trying to figure out what to eat dangerously close to mealtime.

Though I wasn’t overwhelmed by possibilities, I struggled nonetheless. Earlier that day, when it seemed my energy would know no bounds, I had planned a curried butternut squash soup cook-off, and thus, had a shopping list in hand. I quickly began to sense what folly it was to undertake such an endeavor on a Friday night, but with my mental capabilities depleted, I lacked the ability to attempt a new course of action. To my preconceived dinner notions, I was a slave.

As the basket overflowed and grew heavy with four butternut squashes, half a dozen apples, and that Silk Chocolate Soymilk I just couldn’t resist, I could feel the frustration build. Can’t they make these baskets a bit bigger? Where’s a shopping cart when you need one? Though aware that I was teetering on the brink of fury, I continued on to pick up the few seltzer bottles I had promised Dorian. As the handles of the basket bore into my arm, leaving marks I thought might last forever, I tried to deflect thoughts that he was to blame for my present unhappiness. The least he could do is be here to help me carry this damn thing!

Somehow between oblivious drivers, nonchalant pedestrians, and the obligatory exchange of niceties with several neighbors, I made it home with a sliver of my former rational self intact.

This only to find dirty dishes stacked in the sink, TWO bottles of seltzer already stashed in the fridge, and my lovely frittering away on his computer, a half-drunk cocktail beside him on the table. That smile of his I love so much, usually so full of good-humor or mischief, seemed on this occasion a downright dumb grin.

“Hey baby. How’s my woman doing?”

Oh I’ll tell you how she’s doing alright…

Thankfully after one prickly exchange and a handful of dates, I seemed to emerge from my frustration-fueled tizzy and the night could go on. I embarked on a single iteration of curried butternut squash soup and enjoyed it, along with a steak sandwich, beside Dorian and that wonderful smile of his.

Curried Butternut Squash Soup
4 to 6 portions

4 tablespoons sweet butter
2 cups finely chopped yellow onions
4 to 5 teaspoons curry powder
2 medium-size butternut squash (about 3 pounds altogether)
2 apples, peeled, cored and chopped
3 cups chicken stock
1 cup apple juice (I used apple cider which lent a very strong apple flavor to the soup. If you take this route too, perhaps start with 1/2 cup and add from there as needed.)
salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
1 shredded unpeeled Granny Smith apple (garnish)

1. Melt the butter in a pot. Add chopped onions and curry powder and cook, covered, over low heat until onions are tender, about 25 minutes.

2. Meanwhile peel the squash (a regular vegetable peeler works best), scrape out the seeds, and chop the flesh.

3. When onions are tender, pour in the stock, add squash and apples, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, partially covered, until squash and apple are very tender, about 25 minutes.

4. Pour the soup through a strainer, reserving liquid, and transfer the solids to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade, or use a food mill fitted with a medium disc. Add 1 cup of the cooking stock and process until smooth.

5. Return puréed soup to the pot and add apple juice and additional cooking liquid, about 2 cups, until the soup is off the desired consistency.

6. Season to taste with salt and pepper, simmer briefly to heat through, and serve immediately, garnished with shredded apple.