Is it, by any chance, 54 degrees and drizzling there, Chicago? Because here in Seattle, it's sunny-bright and cold as hell, with a freezing wind chill on top of it. Feel free to go check the temperature here on the internet and make fun of me, Chicago. I'm happy I'm innocent of how actually, really goddamn cold it gets there. For us in Seattle, right now it's seriously cold, and that beaming thing in the sky is scary. (Luckily, it's almost dusk.)

At any rate, it's a good day to stay home and make soup, so here, in a Slog encore, is the recipe for the Thanksgiving Day Fiasco Butternut Squash Soup (details of that story may be found over here), as told to Christopher Frizzelle. (This soup is so easy to make, I told him how to do it on the phone while he was walking to the store, then he transcribed it for Slog in a hilarious and sweet way back in 2006.)

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Thanksgiving Day Fiasco Butternut Squash Soup

• One butternut squash
• One large onion
• Butter
• Chicken broth (large can or carton) (organic is better)
• Salt and fresh-ground pepper
• Cinnamon
• Nutmeg
• Organic sour cream

I took you home and cut you. I scraped your cute insides out. I put some olive oil on you. I set you in a pan filled with a half inch of water and put you in the oven at 400 degrees for 45 minutes. Then I browned a huge onion and some butter in a stock pot, with lots of salt and pepper. When I took you out of the oven after 45 minutes you were all hot and mad, but you were pretty soft, so I took a spoon and scooped you out of your skin and put you in the stock pot with the browned onions, and then I poured a giant can of chicken broth over you. Then I just let you bubble for a while. Bubble, bubble, bubble. Simmer I guess is the word that people who know what they’re doing would use. I’m not a cook. All of this made me so nervous. I got all these instructions from a friend, and I was sure I had some of them wrong. Chicken stock? I kept thinking. Bock, bock, bock!

After a while bubbling in that chicken broth you went real soft. Your orangey hunks become a chunky puree. I gave you some more pepper, and some cinnamon, and if I could have found the nutmeg I would have given you some of that too. I tried you with a spoon. God damn! I could have just eaten you like this, but I was feeling fancy, I was in the mood to go all the way, so I got out the blender and blended you. In batches. With the help of a mug, since I don’t have a ladle. Once you were smooth, I poured some of you into a bowl, with a plop of organic sour cream in the middle, and I ate you.

It was snowing. You were so good.

It's maybe supposed to snow, a tiny bit, here this weekend. Until then, just SUN AND BRRRRRR.