Archive for the 'Soups and Stews' Category

Onion soup

December 5, 2011

This is another recipe from my new favourite cookbook, Cucina Povera, although it’s so simple you hardly need a recipe at all. All you need are caramelized red onions, beef stock, some day-old bread and cheese. This soup, carabaccia, in Italian (just about everything sounds better in Italian), may be the precursor to the more-famous French onion soup, but feels much lighter because the pecorino isn’t as heavy as Gruyère. It makes an excellent first course or light lunch.

Carabaccia (onion soup)

Adapted from Cucina Povera, by Pamela Sheldon Johns

Serves Four

1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 pounds red onions, sliced very thinly

6 cups beef or veal stock

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

4 thick slices of Italian bread, toasted

2 1/2 cups pecorino cheese, coarsely grated

Set your oven to 400 F.

In a large pot over medium heat add olive oil. When the oil is hot, add the onions and reduce heat to low. Cook the onions for 20-30 minutes until they are caramelized, stirring regularly.

As the onions are cooking heat the beef stock in another pot. When the onions are caramelized, add the stock, cover and simmer for 30 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Place a slice of toasted bread in each of four oven-proof soup bowls. Place the bowls on a cookie tray, add the soup and top with 1/4 of the cheese. Place the tray in the oven for 5 minutes and bake until the cheese has browned and formed a crust.

Potato and leek soup

February 13, 2011

Slowly but surely, as the years whiz by, I am learning a thing or two. For example, I think I have finally driven into my thick skull the notion that making a grocery list first will prevent me from having to go back to the store for more ingredients. Three times.

I have also learned that it is not wise to paint your stairs the same colour as your cat. Cats are noble beasts and do not feel compelled to get out of the way.

And, it has finally dawned on me that Saturday is not really a day off, it is simply a day when you work for free. Mostly, my Saturdays are spent as a grocery delivery boy, a cranky chauffeur and a superbly unqualified handyman (though I am proud to announce that the cat flap was successfully installed and with minimum bloodshed, not that His Royal Highness The Cat is the least bit grateful).

Recently, it has occurred to me that days spent lining up at cash registers, cursing a conspiracy of stop lights and pretending to be qualified to operate electric saws are not days to be contemplating complicated lunches. Which is why the recipe below isn’t for, say,  lobster bisque. See, I’m learning.

Fortunately, I have also discovered that a little cream, like a little bacon, can elevate the simple into the sublime. And a little cream is just what’s needed on a hectic winter weekend. This busy-Saturday soup is fast, filling and full of flavour (and just a little cream).  Just remember to pick up the leeks on the first trip to the store. And, be careful on the stairs.

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Probably not your grandmother’s matzo ball soup

December 9, 2010

From the better-late-than-never department, Happy Hanukkah!

Trying to figure out which recipe to use for my first attempt at matzo ball soup was more than a little daunting. Just figuring out the proper spelling is hard enough. There are thousands of recipes (each handed down from a grandmother, it seems) in cookbooks and online and, as far as I can tell, each and every one of them is different and most of the claim to be the only way to make authentic matzo ball soup.

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Chicken stock, two ways

October 25, 2010

Everyone around here knows that when I get out my 24-litre stock pot (I feel like a hobbit carrying this thing to the stove), the “crisper” drawer is more aptly called the “softer” drawer and it is time to make chicken stock. This seems to happen most regularly on a rainy Sunday.  I throw in all the going-a-bit-limp carrots, seen-better-days celery stalks and bottom-of-the-bin onions (leave the skins on, they add colour) I have on hand. Passing these things through the stock pot on their way to the compost bin eliminates all the guilt I feel about throwing them out. Plus I get to make soup.

I always intend to save and freeze the bones from roast chickens for stock but our freezer is so full of other things I may never get around to using that I usually don’t bother. The best stock, I think, is made with chicken feet. It’s so much richer.  But that means a trip out to the Asian grocery store, which is the only place I’ve ever seen them other than on live chickens. Besides, using whole chickens means I have enough leftover meat (after making soup) for chicken salad sandwiches all week. I’m such a lazy cook.

Amounts vary when making stock depending on how many vegetables I have on hand. And because my stock pot is so large, when I’m using whole birds I always use at least two organic, free-range chickens from our favourite farm.

I have tried to approximate the essential ingredients (using just one chicken) below but, really, there are no rules so, play around.

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Grilled corn soup with basil-infused oil

August 8, 2010

Whoever invented the word cornucopia must have been looking at all the leftover cobs in my fridge. The corn is so good right now I always buy too much – six cobs per person seems to be the rule of thumb, despite the fact I really do know they’ll only eat two or three.

This silky smooth soup is perfect for  a summer lunch and a great way to use up  leftover corn (as well as  a baked potato, if you’ve got one).  The basil-infused oil is optional but basil plays well with corn and is a great contrast to the richness of the cream and the smoked paprika. If you happen to have some hot charcoal after dinner, throw the leftover cobs on for a few minutes to caramelize them a bit, Or, you can toss them on the gas grill the next day. If that’s not an option, sauté the kernels with the onion for a few minutes before adding the stock.

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Gazpacho

July 25, 2010

Saturday was hot and muggy. The kind of day that makes it hard to imagine  it will get cold around here. But we’ve also lived here long enough to  know that  there’s a pretty good chance it will (in fact, I googled it and the average December sees zero (32 F) as a high. No need to contemplate the lows).  That’s why we found ourselves on a hot and muggy day planning our Christmas holiday in Seville. There is only one thing you can eat while you are planning your Christmas holiday in Seville on a hot and muggy day – gazpacho, Andalusia’s signature dish.

Simple is best for gazpacho, as far as I am concerned. No stocks or tinned tomato juice; no food processors, blenders, bread crumbs or soaked, stale bread. Just fresh, fresh tomatoes, cucumbers (the ones in this soup came from my garden), garlic, peppers, herbs and seasoning. A few homemade croutons and some chopped chives for garnish. And, last but not least, enough time in a cold fridge to let the flavours meld.

I think it could just about be as good as a trip to Seville, but I’ll let you know for sure in January.

Gazpacho

8 large ripe field tomatoes

2 cucumbers, finely diced

2 small (or, 1 large) Spanish onions, finely diced

1 green bell pepper, finely diced

1 red bell pepper, finely diced

1 jalapeno pepper, finely diced (remove seeds for a milder gazpacho)

4 cloves garlic

4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

Splash sherry vinegar (or, red wine vinegar)

A few drops Tabasco sauce (optional)

Coarse kosher salt

Black pepper

Roughly chop and process tomatoes through a food mill to remove seeds and skins and create a smooth puree. Add diced vegetables and chopped parsley to puree.  Roughly chop garlic, sprinkle with coarse Kosher salt and make into a paste using the flat of your chef’s knife blade  (or, mix in a mortar and pestle. The salt acts as an abrasive). Add garlic paste to soup. Taste. Add sherry vinegar (more or less to taste) Season with salt and pepper. Add Tabasco, if using. Refrigerate for four hours or overnight (preferred) to meld flavours.  Served chilled with croutons sprinkled on top. Keeps for one day in the fridge.

Pork paprikash

July 1, 2010

Baby, it’s cold outside.  A summer cold snap calls for something with a little more substance than salad. Something saucy and meaty and noodley.

This paprikash fits the bill nicely; a rich, but not too rich, sauce made with red wine and fresh tomatoes and lots of heat from pungent Hungarian paprika and cayenne. Lean pork tenderloin is complemented by a good jolt of citrus that gives it a fresh, summery punch.

I adapted this recipe from Olaf’s Kitchen by Chef Olaf Mertens, a used-book sale find I was suspicious of because it was in pristine condition (good used cookbooks tend to be splattered and stained). It was worth the $2 for this recipe alone. Mertens calls for veal tenderloin but I used pork. The only other substitution I made was  a teaspoon of dried oregano for a tablespoon of fresh marjoram, which I was too lazy to go out and buy. As well, I may have used a tad more sour cream than the 1/4 cup Mertens called for, but who’s to know?

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Cream of asparagus soup

May 30, 2010

Opening the crisper drawer after I have been away for a week is a lot like opening a time capsule or, an Egyptian tomb – a rush of ancient air desperate to rejoin the space-time continuum.

I close the drawer quickly before something else slithers out and wonder what my family ate while I was away. Then I check the recycling bin and count the pizza boxes using the fingers on both hands.

I mourn briefly the tree that died so my family could avoid preparing a single meal while I was away. This one must have been sizable judging from the cardboard overflowing the bin. It was likely a sapling when Columbus stumbled (tired and hungry like I am now) into the New World, unleashing a chain of unfortunate events that inevitably led to this.

But who am I trying to kid? I should know by now that filling the fridge with fresh food before I leave is pointless; my family would likely eat the cat before they considered steaming broccoli.

Opening the crisper drawer again I know that it is not treasure I will find. No gold-encrusted Tutankhamen for me, just mould-encrusted Rootandlemon. I breathe deeply and insert an arm – this is where dinner is coming from tonight, no matter what; I refuse to give another hard-earned dime to Pizza Pizza.

One by one, I pull out things that only vaguely resemble their edible antecedents – a mummified bell pepper, a semi-liquid lettuce (poor thing), a few furry carrots and a lemon badly in need of plastic surgery. And then…

And then, like manna from heaven, a large bunch of asparagus I bought at the market the day before I left. And, miracle of miracles, it’s still good. Sure, I have to bend it almost double before it snaps, but it beats the double-pepperoni alternative.

And guess what? The soup is delicious and nobody asks where it came from and I feel (just a little) like Indiana Jones.

Cream of asparagus soup

Serves 4. This soup is good hot or cold.

3 shallots, chopped

2 tablespoons butter

1 large bunch (about 1-1/2 pounds) asparagus, trimmed and chopped into 1-inch pieces

Juice of 1/2 lemon

4 cups chicken stock

1/2  cup 35% cream

Chopped fresh chives for garnish

Salt and pepper

Add butter to a large pan over medium heat, cook shallots until soft and translucent. Add asparagus, lemon juice and stock. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for about five minutes until asparagus is tender. Remove a few asparagus tips and reserve.

Transfer soup to food processor or blender and puree until very smooth. You may need to do this in batches. Return to pan and add cream. Heat through until hot but not boiling.

Garnish with reserved asparagus tips and chives.

Chili (the secret recipe)

April 18, 2010

When a friend innocently asked me for my chili recipe I froze, then I panicked. Then I lied.

“It’s a secret.”

That was simply boneheaded and I apologize. There is no secret to this chili, just a mystery. A mystery because I have been making it for so long that I hardly think about what goes in it. And, more importantly, I have been making it in increasingly larger batches – moving up from a four-quart slow-cooker to my feed-the-crew-of-a-warship-sized stock pot (24 quarts) – and my brain and math don’t get along. Reducing the vast quantities of ingredients I use down to something manageable for sane cooks is a challenge.

Don’t ask me why but I’ve always started my chili  like a gumbo with the “holy trinity” of onions, celery and green bell peppers. A little beer gives it body and lots of spice gives it zip. I’ve often made it with canned beans, but I prefer to cook my own (less recycling and none of that goopy liquid that has to be rinsed off).

This chili has become a staple around our house – I freeze it in two-cup containers because my son will take it for lunch and it’s the few ways I can get tomatoes and legumes into him.  Make it in big batches like I do and you’ll be all set if a division of marines stops by for lunch.

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Boil fish

March 28, 2010

First of all, the view from Sip Sip. If only I could make this at home

“No, no, no” the waitress said forcibly removing the fork from L’s tightening grip. “We don’t do it like that.”

We are sitting at Sip Sip, the dune-top lunch spot on Harbour Island in the Bahamas, and, up till now, everything has been perfect. The view from the terrace is right off a postcard, the temperature is just right, the Kalik is ice-cold, the kids are behaving.  And, to top it all off,  our timing is bang on; we are about to have boil fish, the Bahamian classic that Sip Sip only serves on Sunday.

The terrace is packed and it’s easy to imagine how the lively chatter gave the restaurant its name (sip sip means gossip in Bahamian), although I think the ample bar just inside could be another reason. Another sip of Kalik and the food arrives – a steaming bowl of broth with onions and peppers surrounding a beautiful piece of meaty grouper. The requisite johnny cake and bowl of grits on the side. I can smell the lime already. The server moves deftly through the maze of guests and the food is in front of us.

Time to eat.

Except we don’t know how. Or, at least L doesn’t.

In the end I thought the waitress was firm but fair. If L had only loosened her grip, there wouldn’t have been that moment of white-knuckled arm wrestling as the fork was pried from L’s hand. That’s what caused the sudden silence as everyone turned to watch. We the free entertainment for a moment until the waitress, victorious, pocketed the fork and showed L how to use her spoon to scoop a little of the grits into the broth and then break off a piece of the spoon-tender grouper.

“That’s how we do it.”

I could hear the sip sip around us as the other diners returned to their meals, disappointed the show was over. I held up my own spoon of boil fish with a grin. No northern rubes on my side of the table.

The boil fish we had at Sip Sip was simple, bright and delicious. The dominant flavour of lime gave it a citrus lift that added to the freshness of the fish. There was a bit of peppery heat, a hint of onion and, really, that was it. We all agreed that, except for the near brawl, it was the best lunch we had on the island. It was the first meal I tried to recreate when I got home to my own kitchen.

Boil fish is very easy to make and is most often served for breakfast or brunch with grits and johnny cake. I used halibut because I couldn’t find grouper. It was just fine.

I think there are as many recipes for Bahamian boil fish as there are Bahamian cooks. You can add  sweet peppers, omit the potatoes,  add more hot peppers or substitute lemon for lime depending on your tastes or what you have on hand. There are no rules. Many recipes call for goat peppers, which are commonly used in the Bahamas. I used a Habanero pepper because  that’s what I had on hand. Almost any fiery pepper would work just as well.

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