apple celeriac soup

This is not the first time I have been inspired by a celeriac root.
It wasn't just the soup. It was the day. And although the day was filled with all sorts of other agenda items, this celeriac root was hanging out around my thoughts like a muse. If I am to be entirely honest, I must tell you that it was not one, but two celeriac roots, and I had brought them home from the market on Saturday in the hope of this very inspiration. I didn't know what they would be, but I knew I would love them.

There was also a leek, and an imposing pile of apples in the kitchen. And throughout the day, I thought about these soups of fall made of ingredients that I never have in such abundance save for now. A bunch of leeks in the supermarket in February, and I'll be out five bucks- more if I fall for the organic. Apples are so precious for their place in the lunchbox, and at other times in the year, I would never think of disappearing them into a soup. But right now? It's all abundant. The vegetables that I love and crave and wring my hands over in the supermarket all winter are in my fridge right now. They are all in my fridge. They come from the farm, or the market, or my very own garden. There is no end to the celeriac.


What happened on that day was this: As I got through this and that, and I thought about celeriac through it all, I dreamed about making dinner. Just that dreaming felt like an accomplishment in itself.  Because all too often, even though I love to cook and I love to eat and I love to feed these people I love, I feel heavy when I try to plan it out. I sigh, and I think about the 30 minutes I've got before this meeting, or about how so and so won't want to eat this, or about how I just wish it wasn't my night to cook. I end up cooking fast, with my attention half on the stove and half on everything else. I have created a quick weeknight meal, a meal in 30 minutes! and some of the time, I'll be damned if I even remember what it was a few days later. Quick, weeknight non-memorable meals. Hooray.



But on this day, I set up at 4:30, and I turned on NPR. I poured myself a glass of wine. I did the residual dishes from the day. And then I made dinner.


I'm sure there was chaos involved. It was, after all, the hour before dinner. But I was so happy to be happy cooking. The slowness and luxury of actually feeling the desire to be there made me float through it. It made me pause to do a braid for Rosie's doll without any hesitation.  It made me pause to cut Sadie an apple to tide her over. It made me pause to give Joey that hug that I want to give him at that time of day. A long conversational hug, punctuated by a real kiss.

Do you know the study that a Japanese man did on emotions and water? Someone told me about it when I was nursing the girls, and we were talking about whether the emotions we feel while nursing affect the actual quality of the milk. If you've never heard about it, go take a peek. There's all sorts of controversy over his methods and conclusions, but whatever surrounds it, I think that it holds extreme merit as a philosophical idea. 

Essentially, he says that water responds to the emotions that we put into it. It makes sense, right? And as most of what we are and live with are mostly water, this means more than just talking to a glass of water. It means that the water in my children and it myself will behave differently depending on what emotions I shoot at it. Stay with me here! Because I only bring it up because not only are we and our children made of water, and so much of the world made of water. Let's get to business and get down to what really matters. That's right. I'm talking about your soup.

How many days do I cook dinner in a half panic? It's a rough time of the day, and everyone needs me, and I'm not always my best self. I may not be talking to the soup, but I'm talking around the soup, and at the air.  I move fast and I burn the bottom of the pot, I burn my hand, I break a glass, or all of the above. What that soup gets is a whole lot of profanity. But on these other days, when I love every moment of it, and I am inspired by what goes into that pot? I'll say it. I'm sending love into that pot, and that in itself seems to make a damn fine soup.

I'll leave that one out of the ingredients list. Because if I only cooked when I was calm buddha mom, we wouldn't eat all that much. But even without it, the apple and celeriac might pull you through. And after all, I think it's a soup that's hard not to love.

Apple Celeriac Soup

2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium leeks, washed and sliced (using all of the white and half the green)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 small onion, roughly chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
4 medium apples, peeled, cored, and quartered
2 medium celeriac roots, peeled and roughly cubed
8 cups water
1 cup milk
pepper
optional (but fabulous, if you have it): piment d'espelette, for serving

In a large, heavy bottomed pot over medium heat, melt the butter and olive oil together. Let it brown, just slightly. Add the chopped leeks, garlic, and onion, and cook, stirring often, until the veggies are soft and shiny, about 5 minutes. Add the salt and nutmeg and continue to cook for another few minutes.
Add the celeriac, apples, and water. Cover and raise the heat to high. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, until the apples and celeriac start to fall apart, 30 to 40 minutes.
If you have an immersion blender, stick it into the pot and blend until smooth. Otherwise, transfer to an upright blender in batches and return to the pot. Add the milk, and taste to adjust salt and add pepper.
Serve with healthy dusting of piment d'espelette, if you have it.  A nice smoky paprika will also do the trick.

white bean soup with garlic, kale, and sausage

 

There was a bakery in Santa Fe that I used to go to when I was in school, a place called Sage Bakehouse. It was all concrete inside, big and cavernous and always warm from the ovens.  They had a few little tables and a counter up front, and I loved to sit there and eat a muffin and just inhale the smell of it all.  They had fantastic coffee, and this was before there was wireless everywhere, and you wouldn't bring your computer- and their muffins were good enough that you didn't even need another activity besides enjoying the muffin.

The primary draw of Sage Bakehouse was their bread, and they made big mushroom-top shaped loaves of sourdough, not with a crunchy crust that would cut the roof of your mouth, but with a soft crust that sliced well, and it was so good for sandwiches and even better for toast.  If it wasn't a day for a muffin, there was always a toast basket, and they would give you three kinds of toast with a little ramekin of strawberry jam.  It was a princess breakfast.

I went there a lot over my four years in Santa Fe, and I almost always went alone.  It's one of the only places that I used to go in that wonderful town where I don't have a memories of being with other people. It was college, and most places hold some undertone of a dramatic conversation or a heartbreak or something.  But I went to Sage Bakehouse to smell the bread, and that is all I ever did there.

 

For lunch there were also sandwiches, all ready made, and always the same kinds.  They were on these big ciabbata type of rolls, and there was a tuna with pesto, and some sort of ham and cheese. They were great, but I usually had the soup.

There was a day when I was there, alone before an afternoon class, and the soup was white bean with garlic and rosemary.  I had the soup, and it was a revelation.

I only mention it, because it struck me that as I made a big pot of this soup this week, altered with the variations that the week required, that this soup is the first thing for which I ever asked the recipe.

I finished the bowl of soup, and I mopped up the creamy white broth with my sourdough bread, and when the bowl was absolutely empty, I stood up, and I walked to the counter, and I said, "Please tell me how to make that soup."

And the the lovely woman with the apron and her hair tied back in a kerchief said this:

"1 pound of dried cannellini beans, covered with water that extends at least 4 inches over the top of the beans.  Bring them to a boil, then cover and simmer, along with 5 peeled, unchopped garlic cloves, 1 bay leaf, 3 sprigs of rosemary, and a whole lot of salt and pepper.  Cook for several hours, or until the broth turns creamy. Add more water as you go if it seems to need it."

That's it. That was the recipe.

 

And what happened then was that it became the first soup that I made that my mother had never made.  It became a soup that I made for dinner, and then people asked me for the recipe.  It was the recipe that made me feel like I might be able to cook.

Over the years, there have been endless variations, but the basic soup is good enough to make over and over.  But this week, there was a half can of crushed tomatoes added to the cooked beans.  There were several chopped leaves of curly kale.  There were three garlic sausages, chopped in little slices.  And instead of rosemary, there was fresh chopped sage. 

There could also be chicken broth instead of water.  And olive oil drizzled on top is a good idea.  And parmesan cheese, too, if you've got a nub of it around.

And that, friends, is the entire recipe.  Until you add something else, that is.

Happy Spring.  Judging by the two inches of snow on my car, we still have a good amount of soup weather left.

wild rice and leek soup

Lately, dinnertime has been a little, well I don't know- let's see how I could frame it. It's all in the way you look at at, right?
Lately, dinner time has been a little...loud.....tear-filled......almost humorous (and I say almost!) in the regularity of the crying......challenging........did I say loud?
I haven't quite figured it out, except to remind myself that these things come in waves. Yes, life's been a little busy, and the girls respond to that of course, and maybe dinner's been coming out a bit later. Maybe they're tired, and they're definitely hungry. But it never fails to surprise me. They come home in good cheer, and I gloat to myself, "aren't these girls just so happy!" They put on their adventure backpacks and go draw some flowers in the yard, or Sadie reads to Rosie on the couch, or on maybe there's some time on PBS kids. We pat ourselves on the backs and feel like such good parents! But whether it's five minutes before dinner or when we sit down or when I bring the food out, I end up holding my hands over my ears.
Usually it's complaints about the food or who had to set the table or some random thing. But I don't think we've had a dinner without at least a teeny weeny bit of screaming in weeks.
It doesn't dominate- it passes and the night goes on. Girls are tucked into beds and kissed and sang to. The ringing in our ears fades. We try to figure out what we're doing and what we should do tomorrow. This will pass, I know. But I've got to tell you... I'm not tasting my food.

I am a dinner table advocate. I love family dinner- it is what we do! But these last few weeks, I'm really enjoying eating the food the next day, alone. I made this soup the other night, and it went down like a quick shot of energy and warmth. In the midst of the noise, I thought, hmm, decent soup.

But the next day, alone on my bench in the back yard with nothing but the birds and someone else's hollering kid down the street, the soup was divine. Simple, with a whole lot of soul and even more nurture. It's so easy that you could put it together with a screaming kid on your leg in the kitchen- but I'd suggest you take a bowl outside and eat it in silence.

Wild Rice and Leek Soup

8 cups chicken stock, or a combination of stock and water
2 large leeks, sliced in ribbons (all of the white and about 1/2 of the green)
1 1/2 cups wild rice
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
2 dried chiles
2 large ribs celery
2 tablespoons butter
salt and pepper, to taste

In a large saucepan, melt the butter. Add the leeks and cook, stirring often, until the leeks soften and shine, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and celery and cook for 3 minutes. Add the stock, rice, bay leaves and chiles. Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 1 hour. Add salt and pepper to your taste.

herb dumplings

Rosie has had a lot to show me lately, and although it's been a big time of "hold on, honey, I'll be there in a minute" (after which she proceeds to count to sixty), her method of request has been making me melt.

"Momma!" she says, and she gestures with her whole hand. If I'm smart enough in that moment to realize that I always have a minute for this, and that I better follow her, she rewards me by turning on her heel and skipping as sure as she is confident that I am following her. Wherever we are going, whether it's across the kitchen or outside, she skips. Sometimes she'll only have enough space to get one skip in, but it happens anyway. She is so happy to show me her rock or her princess with green hair or her mutilated buttercup that she skips! That's been making me happy every single day.

The events of last week are still leaving me a little shaky, but somehow moments have become more vivid. The transience of all this is clearer than usual, and my new age rainbow bus upbringing that usually makes me roll my eyes is coming back to help me out a bit. Don't hold on so tightly. Just enjoy and be here. I have been fixating on the freckles on the bridge of Sadie's nose- with every sunny day there are more of them. I don't know why I love them so much, but those freckles on her unique and wonderful nose- I just want to drink them up!

These moments are helping, and every day I hope I'll kick myself enough to notice them. I list them for myself as I go along, and they form a poem of the day:



I'm remembering how important it is to screw the to-do list and take a night off, or an hour off, or even a few minutes with tea in the garden.

The other night, I had the great fortune to spend a night out with two friends. We all stepped out of our lives, got into a car, and went to see a play. We drank wine, and we ate fancy fries with vinegar. It was a night that I didn't have time for, but luckily I went anyway.

The play was about women, and kitchens, and soup. I smiled my way through it, and then I came home happy and a little drunk and thinking mostly about the soup part. Over the course of the play, the women made a pot of soup in this tall shiny stock pot (I covet!), and it smelled phenomenal. After the play, they shared the soup with us, and it tasted just as good. The beauty of this soup was that it was totally non-specific. It was really just kitchen soup- I'd guess it was chicken broth with a whole lot of leeks, maybe a bit of garlic and onion, definitely a few zucchinis, and a few chili peppers for bite. It was salty and warm, and in so many ways it tasted like the words of the play that had been said over it. Is that crazy? You know what I mean, right?

Because soup- really that kind of soup, just absorbs the room around it- it uses what's left in the fridge or what's growing in the garden. I love a good soup.

I went home and made a kitchen soup of my own- a bit of chicken, some shallots and garlic, thickened with handful of semolina flour and chopped spinach that's fighting it's way into the garden through the weeds. But my kitchen soup had herb-green dumplings, because that's the kind of day it was.



Someday perhaps we'll gather together that recipe for kitchen soup- the shifting and changing formula that works every time. But I'm guessing you've got one of you own. As for the dumplings, those are Deborah Madison's, and I'm sure she'd be happy to share.

Herb Dumplings
adapted from Deborah Madison, Local Flavors

1 potato (about 1/2 pound, or more potatoes to make up that weight), peeled and cut into chunks
sea salt and freshly ground pepper
2 large eggs, beaten
1 cup chopped fresh herbs- whatever you have, but I used a combination of chives, oregano, and tarragon
1 cup all purpose flour

Cover the potato with cold water, add 1 teaspoon salt, and bring to a boil. Cook until tender- then drain. Gently mash with a masher.
Stir in the beaten eggs, then the herbs, 1 teaspoon salt, and a bit of pepper. Gently stir in the flour, being careful not to overwork. Turn the dough out on a floured surface and knead a few times. Loosely cover with plastic wrap and let it rest for 30 minutes.
Gently roll the dough into a rectangle, approx. 10x4 inches. Cut lengthwise into thirds, then cut each third into 10 or 12 little rectangles.
Bring a wide skillet of water to boil. Lower the heat to a simmer, and add a third of the dumplings. Let them cook until they float, about five minutes, then transfer to a buttered dish. Repeat with the rest of the dumplings.
Add to your soup about five minutes before you are ready to serve, just to rewarm them.

Makes 30-36 dumplings.

italian bread and cabbage soup

We're finally here. Are you ready?

I bet you are.

Cabbage week is starting off with a bang over here. My house smells...fabulous.
I am not getting rickets anytime soon.

My mother came over for lunch today. She's not a cabbage fan, but she knows it is cabbage week, so I was pretty sure she would understand. I made this cabbage and bread soup, layered with butter and topped with cheese. It was salty and lovely with a little bit of crunch to the cabbage. The cold wind hit the windows while we ate, and I felt warmer and warmer with every bite.


My mom wanted you to know that she had seconds.

I had seconds too.



This recipe belongs to the long list of wonderful things to make when you are lucky enough to have stale bread in your possession. Some people don't know what they've got when they have a good hard loaf of bread on their counter. You're not going to believe this but some people actually (are you sitting down here?) throw it away! I know! Think how much perfectly stale bread goes in the compost, or even more horribly, the garbage! Oy. Just think of all that panzanella, all that bread pudding. So many heavenly garlic croutons? Today that bread is going straight into the pot. And while the cold wind whips outside, you will be warm, warm, warm.


Italian Bread and Cabbage Soup
adapted from Moosewood New Classics

serves 2-3, but will double perfectly

3 cups cubed bread (any kind will do but a sourdough or a hearty rye will be especially nice)
3 tablespoons butter
3 cups thinly sliced cabbage (red or green or a mixture)
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt, or more to taste
3 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1 cup grated havarti dill cheese (or fontina or gruyere if that is what you have)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Put a medium pot of salted water on to boil. While the oven is preheating, lay the cubed bread on a baking sheet and throw it in the oven for a few minutes so it can get a little harder. Take the bread out of the oven, and spread the cubes evenly in an ovenproof casserole dish. Melt two of the tablespoons of butter and drizzle it over the bread cubes.
When the water boils, blanch the cabbage until tender, about 3-5 minutes. Drain well, and spread the cabbage over the bread. Melt the remaining tablespoon of butter and stir in the nutmeg, pepper and salt. Pour the seasoned butter over the cabbage and bread. Pour the stock over everything and evenly spread the cheese on top.

Bake uncovered until the cheese starts to brown, 25 or 30 minutes, Serve immediately.

onion soup with garlic croutons

I am very very weary tonight. I feel like I've been traveling on a dusty road for a really long time and the only word anyone has spoken has been "Mom". I'm just having one of those moments. I did not cook today, although I planned to, and then the girls just had a bath which turned into a tantrum which turned into something else. I'll just say that a hot bath plus a whole lot of screaming equals Joey googling what is currently left over in my google box, that is,

"vomit out of couch natural"

Enough of that. I told you a while ago that I was saving my onion soup post for when I really needed it, and that is exactly now. Notice the late summer light on the table. Feel the warmth. Lucky for all of us that it is still the perfect time to make onion soup.

Onion Soup with Garlic Croutons
from Mollie Katzen, The Moosewood Cookbook

5 cups thinly sliced onions
6 Tablespoons butter
1 quart stock or water
1 Tablespoon tamari
3 Tablespoons dry white wine
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
dash of thyme
salt to taste

For the croutons:
2 cups 1 inch cubed rye, herb or rustic white bread
2 Tablespoons butter
1 clove garlic, pressed

Cook the onions, lightly salted in the butter in a large heavy bottomed soup pot. Cook them over medium heat until they are fairly brown, about 20 minutes. Add the mustard and thyme. Mix well.
Add remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer for at least 30 minutes. Adjust salt to taste.
Meanwhile, melt the remaining 2 Tablespoons of butter in a skillet. Add the pressed garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add bread cubes and sautee until slightly browned. Transfer to a baking sheet and put in a 325 degree oven for 15 minutes.

Serve soup topped with croutons and grated parmesan or gruyere cheese.

butternut lentil dal

You didn't think I was going to make it through last night, did you?

But I did.

And I made it to work party this morning, leaving Joey sick again in bed, dragging the girls behind me. They cheered up with a little Roald Dahl in the car.

Today, we moved our friends from one house to another.

They just sold their house, a house that they built with their own hands. I was thinking today about all of the work parties that we've had over the years at that house. We've plastered walls and moved wood and planted lots of things in the ground. The kids have crawled and run and ridden their bikes in the driveway. And now the house has moved on, and so have they. The new owners even took over the chickens.

I've never been very settled. Growing up, I lived in more houses than I could count. But I was thinking today about the special kind of settled that has allowed me to be around for all this movement. It feels like such a gift to be let in on my friends' transitions, even to help out with them. If feels like something that I can't put my finger on is rooted, even if everything moves so fast around it. Does that make any sense? It's hard to find the words. I guess it's something like community.


And the soup, despite the hour at which it was made, was a hit. Sweet and warm, like the sunny fall day that required it.


Butternut Lentil Dal

This soup was born out of a day when I had a few friends over for lunch. I had made roasted butternut squash soup and red lentil soup, and everyone decided to combine them. So I played with the combination and here's the result. Let me know what you think.

2 medium Butternut Squash (about 3 lbs)
1/2 stick butter
2 large onions, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 inch piece of ginger, peeled and grated
2 cups red lentils, rinsed
6 cups water
1 1/2 pounds potatoes, peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
3 carrots (about 1/2 lb) peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
1 can coconut milk
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp salt, plus more to taste
1/4 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp curry powder
1/4 tsp cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Place the squash, whole, on an oiled baking sheet. Bake for about an hour, or until they are slightly blackened and the skin is loose. Allow to cool.

Melt the butter in a large soup pot. Add the onion and sautee over low to medium heat, stirring occasionally, until it starts to caramelize, 15-20 minutes. Add the garlic, grated ginger, cumin, turmeric, salt, cardamom, curry powder, and cinnamon. Cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the lentils and the water. bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cover. Add the potatoes and carrots. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until the lentils are tender.

Meanwhile, when the squash is cool enough to touch, peel off the skin. It should come off easily. Separate the seeds from the flesh. Combine the squash flesh with the can of coconut milk in a blender or food processor and puree until smooth.

Add to the soup pot and cook for an additional 10-15 minutes. Taste for seasonings and adjust if needed. Add additional water if soup is thicker than you would like. Serve with rice and roasted cauliflower.

celeriac soup

Celeriac is so ugly. It is warty and rough. It looks like a large turnip with a serious disease.

But it's flavor is so delicate and refined, that it actually feels beautiful in my mouth. It feels earthy and designer and French.
It will never look as beautiful as it tastes, not whole at least, but there is something so sexy about all that loveliness under the cover of ugly.
There was a little French sandwich shop in Santa Fe that used to serve celeriac cut into julienne with some apple and dressing. It was so fancy. They called it celery root.
Celeriac, or celery root, is not, as some think, the root of your every day celery. It is its own vegetable, a root vegetable only, a cousin to our beloved celery.
It can be eaten raw or sliced thin into a gratin, it can be cubed in a soup or roasted with other fall roots. Or it can, and it should, be blended with milk and cream and served for your supper.

Celeriac Soup

3/4 pounds of potatoes, peeled and quartered
2 medium celeriac roots (about 2 pounds), peeled with a knife and cut into chunks
3 cups chicken broth
1 bay leaf
2 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, peeled and chopped
2 leeks, washed, white parts cut into 1/2 inch slices
3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 stalk celery, finely chopped
1 cup milk
1/3 cup heavy cream

Combine the celeriac, potatoes, chicken broth and bay leaf in a large kettle. Bring to a boil, then down to a simmer. Cook until vegetables are tender, 15 to 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, melt the butter in a sautee pan or skillet. Add the onion and cook for a few minutes until shiny. Add the celery and leek, and cook, stirring for another three minutes. Add the garlic and salt and cook for a minute more. Add the onion mixture (let's call it the soffritto) to the soup pot. Cook for an additional 10 minutes at a low heat, covered. Remove the bay leaf.
Blend with an immersion blender or if you don't have one, put the soup in batches into a blender or food processor.
At this point, if you have more soup than you want around for the next few days, freeze some of the puree. You can defrost it and add the milk on some lucky night when you can't decide what to cook.
Add the milk and cream. Make sure that it is warmed through, and test for seasoning. Add more salt if needed, and lots of freshly ground pepper.

Scary Fall Stew

Some food can be a little scary.

We tend to shy away from food that we don't understand. I totally understand this urge. I mean, we're talking about things that we are putting in our bodies here. There's a lot at stake. Best to stay with the familiar.

Or not. Because when we eat something new, the world opens up a little bit more to us.

Before you know it, there is something new to make for dinner. A whole new dish. And it doesn't seem so scary any more. It is actually... really good.


There are a few vegetables out there right now that are fully worth your while. Celeriac, kohlrabi, turnips- if you like how autumn smells, try tasting it.

So suck it up and get out your vegetable peeler. I promise, it will work out.


Fall Vegetable Stew
serves 6-8

1 onion sliced into boats
4 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 ribs celery, cut into 1 inch chunks
2 carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
5 kohlrabi bulbs, peeled of the outer skin and cut into chunks
2-3 turnips, peeled and cut into chunks
1 small celeriac root, peeled and cut into chunks
1 small head of red cabbage, thinly sliced
3-4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1 bay leaf
2 sprigs fresh thyme or 1 tablespoon dried thyme
olive oil
salt and pepper
parmesan cheese, for garnish

Cover the bottom of a large, heavy bottomed pot with olive oil. When it is warmed, add the onion. Stir occasionally and cook until soft. Add garlic and celery and cook for a few more minutes. Add the rest of the vegetables except for the cabbage. Add the stock. The liquid should cover a little more than half the vegetables. Add the bay leaf and thyme. Bring to a boil and turn down the heat. Cover and simmer for 30 minutes, or until vegetables are cooked through. Salt and pepper to taste. Add the red cabbage and cover again, cooking at a low heat for an additional 10 to 15 minutes. Taste again and adjust seasonings if needed. Discard thyme and bay leaf. Garnish with a drizzle of olive oil and a few shavings of parmesan.

green soup

I've got to be honest with you. I maybe wasn't going to write about this soup.
I was really excited about writing about this soup. And I made it, and it was good.
But it wasn't such a hit with the kiddos, and Joey, shall we say, endured it.
But then I ate it again today, and I've decided that you might be interested.
This is not a soup for people who don't like greens. This is not cream of green with bacon bits (although that does sound good, doesn't it?)
This is for you who like soup, and like greens, and would like them to come together in a lovely marriage. This is for that bag of greens that you're not sure what to do with, for that kale plant about ready to take over your entire yard right now. Just make sure that you save some for the second day, because it will be really great for lunch.

This is from a new cookbook called Love Soup by Anna Thomas. It is, as I'm sure that you have gleaned from the title, a book of soups, specifically vegetarian soups. Even if the idea of green soup is not exciting to you, I'm going to go so far as to say that you should take a look at this cookbook. It is inspiring and humble, and it will make you want to make soup out of everything, which is usually not such a bad idea, unless you are talking about lettuce, although I've heard people do that too.


Green Soup
from Anna Thomas, Love Soup
serves 4-6 (can easily be doubled and freezes well too)

1 bunch chard or spinach (8 oz.)
1 bunch kale (8 oz.)
4-5 green onions, sliced, white and green parts
1/2 cup loosely packed cilantro (of course I used parsley instead! horrible plant, that cilantro)
1 tsp. sea salt, plus more to taste
1 medium Yukon Gold potato
1 medium yellow onion
1 1/2 Tbs. olive oil
Marsala or dry sherry (optional)
1-2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 1/2-3 cups vegetable broth (I used chicken stock)
freshly ground pepper
cayenne
1 Tbs. fresh lemon juice, plus more to taste

garnish: fruity olive oil and feta cheese, or some other fresh white cheese

Wash the greens, trim their stems, slice the leaves. Combine the chard or spinach, kale, green onions and cilantro (parsley!) in a large soup pot with 3 cups of water and a teaspoon of salt. Peel the potato and cut into small pieces. Add it to the pot. Bring the water to a boil, turn down the flame to low, cover the pot, and let simmer for half an hour.
Meanwhile, chop the onion, heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet, and cook the onion with a touch of salt over medium heat until it is golden brown and soft. This will take up to half an hour. Give it a stir every so often. When they are done, deglaze the pan if you like with Marsala or sherry.
Add the caramelized onion to the soup. Put the remaining 1/2 tablespoon of oil in the pan and cook the chopped garlic for just a few minutes until it smells good. Add the garlic to the pot and simmer for 10 more minutes.
Add two cups of the broth, and puree in a blender or with an immersion blender. Add more stock if you need to thin it. Return the soup back to the pot, bring it back to a simmer, and taste. Add more salt if needed, a pinch of cayenne and a tablespoon of lemon juice. Stir well and taste again. Adjust if you see the need.
Serve topped with fresh white cheese and olive oil.

beef stew

I worked at the market yesterday, and I think that thirty hours later I am just starting to thaw. It never quite got above 35 degrees, and while all the happy tourists lucked out with a sunny crisp day for looking at their precious leaves, that is just too damned cold to stand in one place for five hours handling wet salad. But it was the market, and even a frozen farmer's market is better than no market at all.
I was working with a woman yesterday who I know just a bit. She is very accomplished in the realm of some great things, but is also very easy to talk to- an excellent combination of attributes, I think. So, there we are, talking about celeriac as we wait for the eager vegetable buyers to arrive, and she says, "What would I do with celeriac?"
And you know I like these kind of questions.
"Well," I began, trying not to let my voice get high as it does when I answer recipe queries. "Any kind of soup or stew. Or roast it up. But if you really want to make it shine, it has got to be beef stew."
"Oh," she sighed. "I wish I was the kind of person who makes beef stew."

Now, I have to say that with the things this woman is creating in her life, if she is at work too late in the day to make a pot of beef stew, I forgive her entirely. In fact, I'll bring her some of mine.

But this got me thinking. For most people, there are things that we make and the things that we don't. Usually this has something to do with what our mothers made, but sometimes it's more random- a friend gave you a recipe for baked mac and cheese in college, you made it, and now you're someone who makes baked mac and cheese. So often I think that those things that you don't make have a bit of mystical allure, and they usually seem harder than they really are. (Unless the thing that you don't make is croissants, and then it really is that hard). And this might just be where the cooking rut occurs.

Oh, the joy of realizing how attainable one of those unattainable dinners really is. And before you know it, there are so many things to cook that it might even be hard to nail it down.

Are you someone who makes beef stew? Or do you think you might like to be?

We have to go back to my frozen market for a moment. I only bring you back there so that you can fully experience the chill in my bones, and so that you can know that this story really has a happy ending, and that there was left over beef stew waiting for me when I got home. A big bowl over noodles, a bitter arugula salad, and couch where I fell fast asleep until Joey and the girls came home from their Saturday capers.

A Beef Stew Formula

I know, formula? Here I am promising to make a beef stew maker out of you, and I give you a formula instead of a recipe? But beef stew is like that- what you've got in your fridge will work out for you. As long as you brown your beef, it will all be okay

(for four people plus a bit leftover, maybe)

2 lbs stew beef
1 cup flour (I have to leave this out now due to the wheat free girl, but if you can, use it)
2 Tablespoons paprika
1 Tablespoon salt
lots of fresh ground pepper
several glugs of olive oil
about 2 cups of liquid- this can be beer, red wine, beef broth, chicken broth, or in a pinch, water

then there are the vegetables... if you've got them, you'd want to start with:

2-3 carrots, peels and cut into chunks
2 ribs celery, sliced
1 large onion cut into boats (are you with me here? I'm not sure of the terms, but cut your onion in half and then into long boat shaped strips)
3 potatoes, peeled and cup into bite sized chunks

or if life is more exciting where you are:
1/2 celeriac root, peeled and cut into chunks
2 kohlrabi bulbs, peeled and cut into chunks

(if you're going for the exciting vegetables, sub them in for the potato or some portion of the potato)

And most importantly, 1 bay leaf

Other optional elements would be soy sauce, tomato paste, and cloves. (a dash of soy sauce, a few tablespoons of tomato paste, 5-7 cloves)
And of course parsley is okay if you fly that way.

So how do you put all of this together? Well, your going to need an afternoon when you're around, but doing something else. After about 1/2 hour of prep time, this stuff just cooks itself.

Beef stew is very forgiving. But this is the important part. Are you skimming this post? Okay then, I'll say it again. THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART.
You must wash, and DRY your stew meat.
You must combine your flour, paprika, salt and pepper in a bowl.
You must heat the olive oil in a large pot until it is hot.
You must dip each DRY (did I say dry?) piece of meat into the flour mixture.
You must drop it into the pot, and let it brown on all sides. This will take turning on your part. You can do several pieces at a time, but do not crowd the pan. When the meat is brown on all sides and you need space to put more meat in, take it out of the pot and put it on a plate. When you have browned all of the meat, return it to the pot.

That was the important part. If you're still with me, you're golden. Are you still with me?

I hope all of your vegetables are chopped. If not, pause for chopping.
Chopped? Okay.
Now add your liquid. Keep the heat at medium high. Bring it to a mellow boil. Scrape the brown stuff off the bottom of the pot.
Add your vegetables. The meat and vegetables should be partially submerged in liquid. Add more liquid if your instinct tells you to (yes you have instinct- you are a person who makes beef stew!)
Bring back up to a mellow boil. Add the bay leaf. Cover, lower the heat and go do something else. Check back in every so often, stirring, cooing, adding liquid, whatever.
Cook at least an hour, but maybe three- that's okay too. Taste it when it's done, flavor if there is a need.

And what do you pour this luscious thing over? I'm partial to egg noodles, but cous cous is great too. Rice will work, as will a good loaf of bread. Or you can just eat it on its own. From the pot.

black bean and roasted tomatillo soup with garlic yogurt

October might just be my favorite month for cooking. The cold air drives me straight to the stove, and the garden is still spitting out more produce than I can manage. The squash are taking over, but at the same time there are those few plants that are hanging on till they are done in by the frost, insisting on producing their summery fruit to the very end.

One of these tenacious plants is the husky tomatillo. Through August and September the tomatillos are happy to be blended into tangy salsas day after day. But if you have tomatillos growing in your garden, you have experienced the October tomatillo rush. The tomatillo, in denial of the coming winter, has covered itself with perfect fruit, and the frost will inevitably move in before they can all bust out of their papery skins. What to do with all of these premature tomatillos that you have rescued from their frosty fate? It is too cold for salsa; we therefore must make soup.

Black Bean and Roasted Tomatillo Soup with Garlic Yogurt

Adapted from Alice Waters, Chez Panisse Vegetables

For the soup:

• 7 cups cooked black beans
• 10 tomatillos, husks removed
• olive oil
• salt and pepper
• ½ hot pepper
• 6 cloves garlic, peeled
• 1 ½ onions, diced
• 2 Tablespoons miso

For the yogurt:

• 1 cup plain whole milk yogurt
• 1 clove raw garlic, finely minced or pressed
• a squeeze of fresh lemon
• a pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the tomatillos into quarters, and toss lightly with salt and pepper. Place in a heavy bottomed, ovenproof dish just big enough to hold them in a single layer, and roast for fifteen minutes in the oven, until they are soft.

While they are roasting, slice the onions very thin. Cook them with olive oil in a large soup pot, seasoning with salt and pepper. When they are soft, add 5 cups of the beans (reserving the other two cups of beans) and about two cups of water. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer, covered.

Wrap the garlic and hot pepper in a piece of cheesecloth. Tie it closed, and drop the sack into the pot of beans. Cover and let cook on a low heat, stirring often, for 20-30 minutes.

Remove the cheesecloth. When the tomatillos are roasted, put them into a blender or food processor and puree. Add the puree to the soup.

Put the miso into a small bowl and combine it with a cup of the soup. Stir until the miso is dissolved. Add the mixture to the soup. Then with a blender or an immersion blender, puree the soup. After it is fairly smooth, add the remaining two cups of beans.

Add salt and pepper to taste.

Combine all yogurt ingredients with a whisk. Serve soup topped with yogurt.

potato leek soup with sorrel

I'm not grieving the summer. A week of heat was plenty- now I get to make soup.

Potato Leek Soup with Sorrel
(If you don't have a big lovely sorrel plant in your back yard, plan to plant one this fall and then leave it out this time. It makes the soup all lemony.)

2 pounds of potatoes, peeled and quartered
2 medium to large leeks, cleaned and chopped, using all of the whites and at least half of the greens
3 cups chicken broth or water
4 oz. sorrel, taken off the stem and chopped roughly
1/2-3/4 cup heavy cream or milk, to taste
salt and pepper
2 T olive oil
1 T butter

In a large, heavy bottomed pot, heat the oil and butter. Add the leeks and cook until soft, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Add the potatoes and the stock or water. Bring to a boil, and then turn the heat down to a simmer and cover. Cook until the potatoes are tender, about 25 minutes. Turn off the heat. Add the sorrel. If you have a hand blender (I hope you do, because it will make you happy), stick it in the pot and blend until smooth. You can also transfer to a regular blender in batches if you prefer, or haven't followed my advice about the hand blender. When the soup is all blended, add the milk or cream and rewarm gently, taking care not to boil. Add salt and pepper to taste, and serve garnished with the creme fraiche that's sitting in your fridge.

roasted tomato soup

I'm in frenzy gathering the family for a week away. Sadie's hitting, Rosie's whining, and I'm just doing my best to make sure that everyone has enough underwear. So I only have a minute, but for the lucky ones who might be coming into tomato season, I wanted to pass along this little soup recipe. The roasting is just fabulous- it gives the soup such a flavor. So hopefully there are tomatoes to be eaten- if so, here's what to make for dinner.

Roasted Tomato Soup
adapted from Gourmet, August 2009

4 lb tomatoes, halved lengthwise
6 garlic cloves, left unpeeled
3 T olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1/2 tsp dried oregano or 1 T fresh oregano
2 tsp sugar
2 T unsalted butter
3 cups chicken stock
1/2 cup heavy cream or milk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees with a rack in the middle. Arrange tomatoes, cut side up on a parchment lined baking pan with sides. Add garlic to the pan. Drizzle tomatoes and garlic with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
Roast tomatoes and garlic for 1 hour, then cool in pan. Peel the garlic cloves.
Cook onion, oregano, sugar and butter in a 6 to 8 quart heavy bottomed pot over medium low heat, stirring frequently, until onion is softened, about 5 minutes.
Add tomatoes, garlic and stock and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes. Puree soup in a blender, then force through a sieve back into the cleaned pot, discarding solids. Stir in cream or milk and salt and pepper to taste and rewarm.

Fish Chowder

I'm still thinking about Maine. I've been shuffling the girls around since I got back, working and trying to do the laundry late at night. I'm a bit fixated on one reason I would really like to live by the ocean one day.

Oh wait- there are a couple more.

I am only three hours from the ocean, and somehow the fish here is all expensive, bad, or both. But in Maine, we had a poor man's feast- fish chowder.


Lucky for us, we were not the only visitors at Sarah and Jefferson's last weekend. Sarah's friend Christine was there, along with her three fantastic children. That last night, we all had our fish chowder, and then we took in a play, "The Runaway Princess".




Who do you think got to be the princess?



Sarah's Fish Chowder

1 large onion, chopped
3 ribs celery, chopped
6 red potatoes, skins on, cut into chunks
2 pounds cheap white fish (such as cod)
3 T butter
approx. 2 cups milk, or more as needed
1 cup water
1/2 cup chopped parsley
salt and pepper

In a medium sized heavy bottomed pot, melt the butter. Add the onion, then celery, then potatoes. Saute until the potatoes start to soften, about 10-15 minutes. Add water, cover and continue to cook at a low heat for another 15 minutes.
Put 2 large scoops of cooked potatoes into the blender. Cover with milk. Blend. Set aside.
Put the piece of fish into the soup and cook until it is cooked through and flakes apart. Add the milk mixture and salt and pepper to taste. Add more milk if you prefer a thinner soup. Add parsley. Serve with oyster crackers if you are lucky enough to have them handy.