KitchenCritical

Ask any American if they like anchovies and the answer is likely an emphatic no. Ask them if they've had it, and the answer is the same. It seems to be that as is the prospect of eating, say, a cockroach, one doesn't have to try one to know that it's revolting. Judgment is passed, and verdict rendered. Yet you do eat anchovy, and you like it. You may simply be unaware of how common an ingredient it really is.  These popular items: Thai and Vietnamese food, all Caesar salads, anything with Worcestershire, a great deal of Italian dishes and many dishes of any provenance that are featured in high end restaurants all contain some preparation of anchovy, an extract of it or a similarly fermented, oily fish, yet none of the above contain "anchovy" in the name.  The reason is that anchovies, through the long curing process, develop flavor compounds, amino acids and naturally occurring glutamates (MSG) that enhance all other flavors it is joined with. Chefs know this and

 I'm a curmudgeon, so the cloying and ubiquitous fall season "spiced" scents will be an assault on my senses until after New Year. Pumpkin Parm beats pumpkin spice.  Pumpkin needs no cinnamon, allspice, clove, ginger, vanilla, brown sugar or maple. Even less so their artificial counterpart "flavorings" added to lattes and hideous dyed pastries with an almost religious fervor until the Spice Assault subsides once again.  I hereby offer you this recipe. To fellow curmudgeons it will be a relief, and to the Autumn Army a chance to see the orange gourd that is their seasonal totem with a fresh entourage. To entice the Spice crowd, I add a perennial rather than seasonal superstar: parmesan.  Ingredients : Approximately 3 cups of any pumpkin, calabaza, butternut, etc, chopped into rough cubes. 2 cups chicken or vegetable broth One leek, tough outer leaves removed, chopped. One medium parsnip, chopped. One tablespoon each of butter and heavy cream. Olive oil, enough to