Taste Memories

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.

Creamy Roast Mushroom and Garlic Soup with Thyme

Have you ever had the experience of craving a food that you don't actually like? It has happened to me a lot recently, first with black beans, then with brussel sprouts, and most recently with mushrooms. Never one to resist a craving (I like to think that our bodies know what they need, if only we would listen), I succumbed promptly, and trotted off obediently to Wholefoods to stock up on portabellos and dried porcini mushrooms. I decided to make a soup with them, to christen my shiny new Cuisinart stick blender (thank you, Daniel Santa) and my delightful new Polish pottery bowls (thank you, Mum and Dad Santa). Aren't they adorable?

And you know what? The soup I threw together was ridiculously good, and exactly what I wanted. I've always been scornful of those who bizarrely insist that mushrooms are meaty (how could that be possible?), but they sure are savory, and earthy, and full of umami punch. The addition of thyme manages both to elevate and ground this soup in a way that's difficult to describe, but easy to appreciate.

This was so good, in fact, that I have devoured the entire batch of soup singlehandedly this week (silly Daniel thinks creamy soups are the pits). But if you were to ask me, I'd still deny liking mushrooms. As well as being stubborn, naturally.

 

Ingredients:

kosher salt

olive oil

1 oz dried porcini

6 large portobello mushrooms, destalked and cleaned with a damp cloth

4 garlic cloves

1 tbsp unsalted butter

1 large onion, diced

1 tbsp fresh thyme, taken off the stalk

3 cups vegetable stock

½ cup sour cream (I used light)

½ cup half and half

 

Method:

Preheat the oven to 400˚F.

Lightly oil a baking sheet, and pop the mushrooms and garlic on it. Drizzle them with a little olive oil and sprinkle them with a little kosher salt.

Roast the mushrooms and garlic for about 50 minutes, or until they are both nice and soft.

Meanwhile, soak the porcini in 2 cups of boiling water for about 30 minutes.

Place a large pot over medium heat, and add the butter.

Sauté the onion with another pinch of kosher salt until it is soft and golden (about 5 minutes), adding the thyme during the last minute.

Add the portobellos, porcini and their soaking liquid, as well as the stock, sour cream, and half and half. Blend thoroughly with a stick blender or a standing blender.

Reheat gently, and serve the soup warm, perhaps with an additional dollop of sour cream and a few sprigs of thyme.

 

Serves 4 – 6.

Mexican Tomato, Black Bean, and Lime Soup, with Cilanto Pesto

 

I usually hesitate to blog recipes this straightforward, but 'tis the season to be busy, and we all need a few more dishes like this in our repertoire. For one thing, it's the kind of soup that you want to plant your face in on a chilly December Boston night. For another, the whole thing takes 20 minutes, start to finish. Still more, this soup is soul-satisfying in a way that few dishes this good for you can claim to be. Finally, it's easily adapted for both vegetarians and carnivores, and has plenty of protein either way. Oh, and – nearly forgot – you'll probably have all the ingredients to make it in your larder already. What more could you want? So I'll trust that, when I say that you should make this for dinner tonight, you'll take my word for it and follow suit.

By the way, if you don't feel like dirtying more dishes by making the pesto, just a swirl of sour cream and a sprinkle of cilantro over the soup would be a worthy final benediction. But the pesto really is delicious, if you can be bothered, and transforms this soup from homely to complex. It makes it (dare I indulge in this Martha-ism?) company-worthy. But I suggest that you tuck yourself under a blanket and enjoy a steaming bowl of this alone instead. What better way to find brief respite from the distasteful seasonal madness that is upon us already?

Ingredients:

1 tbsp safflower (or other flavorless) oil

1 tbsp cumin

1 tsp ground chipotle (or more, to taste)

2 medium onions, diced

28oz can tomatoes

32 fluid oz chicken or vegetable stock

15.5oz can black beans, drained and well-rinsed

Juice of 1 lime

Some shredded chicken (optional)*

 

For the pesto:

1 bunch cilantro

½ cup salted cashews

¼ cup safflower (or other flavorless) oil

Juice of 1 lime

 

* I like to keep a supply on hand. I buy bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts on a nearly weekly basis, and roast them at 450˚F for 40 minutes, or until the skin is crisp and the flesh is beautifully tender. I shred the meat and use it all week for this and that. It's so much better (and cheaper) than the dried-out cardboard-like horror that is boneless, skinless chicken breasts. In fact, I'd wager that the misguided chicken-thigh-loving crowd could be won over by breast meat prepared in this way.

 

Method:

Place a large soup pot over medium-high heat, and add the oil.

Sauté the onions with the spices for 5 minutes or so, until the onions are tender.

Add the tomatoes, the stock, and the black beans, and simmer vociferously (covered) for about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare the pesto, by bashing all of the ingredients together in a mortar and pestle (or whizzing them in a food processor).

I like to puree most of the soup in a blender with the lime juice, leaving about a third of the mixture unblended for some residual texture.

Check the soup and pesto for seasoning and acidity.

If using the chicken, warm it gently and add it to the soup bowls before ladling the soup over it.

Serve the soup with a swirl of pesto on top.

 

Serves 4.

Cauliflower Vischyssoise

 

A slight sniffle last week gave me a powerful craving for soup. I decided to make this soup for no other reason than that we had some cauliflower and leeks in the crisper, and I was feeling too lazy ill to trek to the store. My expectations were not especially high, but golly, was it good! Replacing the potato with the cauliflower lent a velvety texture and subtle nutty aroma to this otherwise classic soup. A steaming bowl of it cheered me up immensely, and quickly had me on the road to recovery. (Although I remain far too sick to sort out my laundry, naturally.)

 

Ingredients:

 

1 head cauliflower, defloreted (sorry, I couldn’t resist)

2 leeks, white parts only, rinsed and finely sliced

1 tbsp butter

1 quart vegetable or chicken stock

½ cup sour cream (I used light, and it was fine)

good salt and a whole nutmeg

 

Method:

 

Place a dutch oven over medium-low heat, and add the butter.

 

When the butter melts and bubbles, add the leeks. Let them cook gently, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes, or until they are a glossy tangle.

 

Add the cauliflower and the stock, and bring the mixture to a boil over high heat. Then cover the pot, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for about 30 minutes, or until the cauliflower is very soft.

 

Blitz the soup in a blender with the sour cream, and adjust the seasoning to taste. Serve hot, with a good grind of nutmeg.

 

Makes 2 huge bowls.

Edamame, Avocado, Cilantro, and Lime Soup

Not exactly a beauty queen, is she? Still, the invention of this soup has made me very happy. I'm always on the lookout for a vegetarian recipe that's satisfying, but neither heavy nor dripping with cheese (Daniel and I aren’t vegetarian, but many of our friends are). This soup is also packed with protein, and delicious to boot. If only I could get it to look a little more appetizing! It occurs to me that perhaps a little more avocado would take it from a slightly grisly looking grey-green sludge, to something more presentable. Ah well, so it goes. Happily, I've always been one for substance over style.

 

I’ve played around with various ways of making this soup, and this is my favourite so far. I like the vaguely southwestern flavours: onion, cumin, lime, avocado, cilantro, and sour cream. They conjure up in me an image of Texas, a place I’ve never been. Forgive me if the association is erroneous, but I think you’ll find the soup is anything but.

 

Ingredients:

 

1 tbsp olive oil

2 medium onions, roughly chopped (I used red onions)

1 tsp salt

2 tsp cumin

6 cups vegetable stock

1lb frozen, shucked edamame

1 punnet silken tofu

2 limes

1 avocado, de-stoned

1 bunch cilantro, roughly chopped

½ cup sour cream

 

Method:

 

Add the olive oil to a large pan over medium-high heat.

 

Add the onions, the salt and the cumin, and sauté the mixture for a few minutes, until the onions are soft and beginning to caramelize.

 

Then, add the vegetable stock and bring it to a boil.

 

Add the edamame, and boil for about 10 minutes or until soft.

 

Next, puree the soup in a blender, together with the remaining ingredients (you may need to do this in batches).

 

Adjust the soup for seasoning and acidity. You can also add a little more liquid if you like. I actually prefer to serve this soup cold, but it’s nice warm too. Either way, you might want to swirl a little more sour cream into it.  

 

Serves 6, generously.