I don’t know if it’s because I was a November baby, but I am never happier than when the leaves start to fall and the temperature starts to plummet. There is nothing more comforting in the entire world than a crisp, cold day when the sun is low in the sky and blasting through the kitchen window while soup bubbles away. I don’t think vegetable soup should ever follow a recipe, I just stick my head in the fridge, chop up the vegetables I find, add garlic, ginger, a handful of lentils if I’m feeling virtuous, a pot of cream if I’m not, and hey presto. Simmer until you can’t wait any longer, and magically it always tastes good.