**"Autumn in a Bowl: A Butternut Squash Reverie"**

 There are flavors that seem destined for one another, like old friends reunited after years apart, picking up where they left off. Butternut squash and sage belong to that rare and inevitable pairing—one rich and golden, the other earthy and crisp, a whisper of autumn in every bite.  

Take 2 small butternut squash, firm and weighty in the hand. Peel them, slicing through the stubborn skin to reveal the deep orange flesh beneath. Cut them into rough pieces, discarding the seeds like forgotten remnants of another season. Scatter them in a roasting tray with 6 garlic cloves, their skins left intact, little parcels of sweetness waiting to be revealed. A few tablespoons of olive oil drizzle down, pooling in the crevices, catching the light. Season with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper—enough to wake up the flavors, but not so much as to overshadow them.  

Slide the tray into a waiting oven, set to 180C (or 200C for those without a fan). Let time and heat do their work—30, maybe 40 minutes—until the edges turn golden and caramelized, until the squash softens and sighs under the press of a fork. The garlic, now yielding and warm, slips easily from its husk, joining the squash in a pot like an old friend settling in beside another.  

A litre of simmering stock—chicken or vegetable, whichever suits your mood—pours over, just enough to cover. Then comes the transformation, the gentle hum of a stick blender turning the rough, roasted pieces into something smooth, something silk-soft and rich. Adjust as needed—a little more stock for a lighter soup, a little less for something with weight.  

But no story is complete without a final flourish. Melt a large knob of butter in a pan, let it pool and bubble, then lay in 8 sage leaves. They crisp almost instantly, curling at the edges, filling the kitchen with their unmistakable scent. A scattering of salt while they’re still warm, then—just before serving—let them drift down over the soup, a last, perfect touch.  

And if you have them, crumble a few chestnuts into the pan after the sage is done, letting them toast in the butter before sprinkling them over the top. Not essential, no. But sometimes, the best things in life aren’t.