Taste Memories

Lunching

Whenever possible, I like to take my lunch at home. Sometimes it is worth waiting an extra hour or two if it means settling down to a simple but civilized repast, rather than choking down the limp lettuce and cardboard chicken salad the café in our building charges $7 for. But often my schedule won't allow for this luxury, in which case packing my lunch is well worth the trouble. The lunches I pack for myself are invariably cheaper, more wholesome, and far more delicious than anything I can buy around school.

Often, I will make a big batch of soup on the weekends, and enjoy it for lunch throughout the week (thank to my investment in a sturdy wide-mouthed thermos). Many of my favorite soups have already been featured on this blog, but I've also recently become enamored with an andouille, lentil, tomato, and kale soup that I plan to blog about soon. It is a lovely balance of smoky, sweet, and savory flavors, and it's the kind of substantial soup that keeps me going all afternoon long.

Sandwiches can, of course, be excellent for lunch, but by the time I've schlepped a sandwich to school, it's bound to have altogether lost its distinction, and has often become downright mushy. So instead, I go in for salads in a big way. Oftentimes, I need nothing more than some tender greens, a creamy-centered hard-boiled egg, and a judiciously seasoned dressing to keep me happy.

But for something a little more elaborate, I like this quinoa salad. It's nutty (from the quinoa), fresh (from the lemon), fragrant (from the herbs), and a little spicy (from the smoked paprika). It could hardly be more nutritious. It's also a very movable feast – you could experiment with bulghur or brown rice instead of the quinoa, and feel free of course to use lime or a good red wine vinegar instead of the lemon. Play around with the spices, and substitute any vegetables you fancy instead of (or in addition to) the cucumber. I've even omitted the shrimp for vegetarians, and added a handful of green grapes, to good effect.

With a few tupperwares of this salad packed tidily away in the fridge, I'm really rather looking forward to Monday. After all, whose day isn't immensely improved by the solace of a good lunch?

 

Quinoa Shrimp Salad

Ingredients:

1 cup quinoa

1 tbsp olive oil

1lb shrimp, peeled and deveined

1 tsp salt

1 tsp smoked paprika

1 cucumber, diced

¼ cup slivered almonds

½ cup feta, crumbled

Juice of 2 Meyer lemons (regular will do too)

Zest of 1 Meyer lemon (ditto)

A few handfuls arugula and/or a few handfuls of suitable herbs (basil, mint, and/or flat-leaf parsley would all play well here)

 

Method:

Cook the quinoa according to the packet directions (usually, you add double the volume of water to quinoa, bring it to a boil, and simmer for 10-15 minutes).

Add the olive oil to a large skillet or wok over high heat. Add the shrimp, salt, and smoked paprika, and sauté for a minute or so, or until the shrimp is just pink.

Combine the remaining ingredients with the warm quinoa in a large bowl. Add the shrimp and any cooking juices, and toss to combine.

Serves 4, or makes a week of lunches.

Soup Surprise

If I may toot my own horn for a moment, I am a dab hand at throwing together pretty decent dishes on the fly. A few weeks ago, for example, I made a handy little radicchio salad, topped with halved soft-boiled eggs, shards of pecorino, and dressed with a gutsy anchovy and slow-roasted garlic emulsion. This very afternoon, I improvised a rather tasty slaw when I decided to liven up a slightly decrepit head of cabbage by shredding it, and grating in the creamy flesh of a few beautiful pears. Late last summer, I ended up with a wonderful breakfast when I spontaneously scraped down a leftover grilled corn cob, mixed the kernels with a dollop of homemade basil mayonnaise, and topped the lot with an oily-bellied fried egg.

Oh, don't misunderstand me – there are plenty of disasters, too (I recently took it upon myself to turn a bunch of rhubarb into something along the lines of applesauce. The resulting substance was pale pink and quivered ominously. It tasted like mouth-puckeringly sour wood. It was described by my chief taster as "incredibly strange.") But the results of my experiments are more often edible than not, and sometimes even toothsome. They are almost never, however, particularly memorable – by which I mean the kind of dish that demands to be savored now, written about soon afterwards, and made again time after time.

This soup is a rare, doubtless fluky exception. It is uncommonly, uncannily good. It is comforting but stylish, mellow but deeply flavored, and deceptively complex. When I had drunk up every last drop, I was tempted to start hoarding all the artichokes and meyer lemons at the market before the season is out, so I could sup it year round. But I'll nobly refrain, just in case you decide to heed my advice and make a batch for yourself.

Creamy Artichoke, Fennel, Shrimp, and Meyer Lemon Soup

Ingredients:

1 bulb of fennel, roughly chopped

3 medium artichokes, wrangled, outer leaves discarded, and with the hearts roughly chopped

4 cups of good vegetable or fish stock

The juice of a Meyer lemon

½ cup of heavy cream

2 Tbsp butter

1lb shrimp, depeeled, deveined, and cut into bite-sized pieces

 

Method:

This really couldn't be easier. Throw the fennel and the artichokes into the stock, and boil vigorously (covered) for 30 minutes or so, until the artichokes are very soft (the time this takes will depend a bit on the size, and therefore toughness, of your 'chokes).

Meanwhile, melt the butter in a skillet over a low flame, and poach the shrimp gently in the butter, until they are just pink and still tender.

Next, puree the soup using an immersion blender (or in a standing blender). Add the lemon juice, the cream, and the shrimp (together with the remaining butter in the skillet).

Taste the soup for seasoning, acidity, and concentration, and adjust accordingly. (I found my brew needed to be thinned with a little water, but nothing else.)

Serves 4.