Greek Artichoke & Potato Stew

Rereading an old travel diary, I came across an entry from Gythio in southern Greece and was reminded of the absolutely wonderful artichoke and potato stew I had there. I felt inspired to try to make it again. Alas, the diary was quite old, and the notes less than exhaustive, but here is an attempt cobbled together from various corners of the internet, and I was very pleased with the results. It feels light and refreshing and makes a good vegetable side, but is hearty enough to have as a main dish. Be sure to serve with bread to mop up the last of the lemony broth.

You can use artichoke hearts for this, but I like the texture of artichoke bottoms, which I find less fibrous.

The Greek name for this dish is αγκινάρεσ αλά πολιτα (Agkinares a la polita), or, roughly, "City-Style Artichokes".

Greek Artichoke & Potato Stew

Serves 4

Adapted from: Akis Petrezikis

45 mL (3 tablespoons) olive oil
120 grams (1 medium) yellow onion
2 thick or 4 thin spring onions
2 cloves of garlic
400 grams (3-4 medium) waxy potatoes
3 small-to-medium carrots
1 400 gram tin (14 oz/398 ml) artichoke bottoms
1 tablespoon vegetable stock concentrate
600 mL water, boiled and still hot
150 mL water, room temperature
1 tablespoon plain flour
1 large, juicy lemon, zest and juice (use juice of 2 lemons if yours isn't very juicy)
1/2 bunch fresh dill
salt to taste
white pepper to taste

Extra olive oil and fresh dill to garnish

You can use a deep skillet or soup pot to make this, but I used my 30cm braising pan.

Heat the olive oil gently in the pan, over low heat, while you prepare your vegetables: Peel the yellow onion and slice (pole-to-pole) into 1 cm wide strips. Slice the spring onions into 1 cm rounds, separating the darker green parts from the lighter green and white parts. Peel and slice the garlic, fairly thinly. Peel or scrub the carrots, and cut in half lengthwise. Slice the halved carrots on the diagonal into .5 cm slices. Peel the potatoes and dice into large (but still spoonable) chunks, about 1.5 cm in size. Drain the artichoke bottoms, trim off any hard or woody looking bits (if any), and cut each one into quarters.

Turn up the heat under the pan to medium-high, and while it is getting hot, heat the 600 ml water separately so it is at the ready.

When the pan is hot, add the yellow onion and the white/light parts of the spring onion slices. Give them a stir and sauté until they just start to turn translucent. A bit of colour is no big deal, but you don't want to brown them, really. Add the carrots and garlic to the pan, and stir through. Add the potato cubes, and stir through. Add a good pinch of coarse or kosher salt, and stir that through, too. I also added a good pinch of white pepper at this stage (optional).

Stir and sauté until the vegetables pick up a hint of golden colour, and then add the artichokes. Continue to cook for 2 minutes, and then add the vegetable stock concentrate, the boiled water, and the lemon zest and juice. While this mixture returns to a simmer, combine the 1 tablespoon of plain flour with the 150 mL room temperature water and shake or whisk together until smooth. Add to the pan, and stir constantly (but gently) until the liquid comes back up to a bubble.

Turn down the heat to low, cover the pan with a lid (or tinfoil/parchment cover if needed), and let simmer for 45 minutes. Check whether the larger pieces of carrot and potato are tender, and if not, cook for another 5 - 10 minutes. If they are tender, remove the lid, and use a clean spoon to taste the broth (being careful, of course, because it's very hot). If it needs more salt, add it now and stir through, giving it a few minutes to integrate into the dish.

When the stew is ready, remove (and discard) the stems from the dill and chop the fronds coarsely. Add half the chopped fronds and the remaining green onion slices to the pot and stir through, and reserve the other half to garnish individual bowls.

Ladle into bowls and serve with bread for mopping up the sauce, and an extra wedge of lemon (if you like).

This recipe can be made ahead and refrigerated for several days, in which case hold off on adding any of the dill until just before serving. Leftovers, with the dill already added, will benefit from an extra bit of fresh dill stirred through.

Ärtsoppa: Swedish Yellow Pea Soup

Ärtsoppa, a slow-cooked soup made of dried yellow peas, onion, and broth is one of Sweden's classic dishes whose origins reach remarkably far back, as it is claimed to have been documented as a staple from at least as early as the middle ages.

Most commonly, this thick, simple soup is associated with Thursdays, as it was historically served as a hearty bracer before Friday's fast. Even though fasting on Friday is no longer common, this traditional pea soup is often still served at Thursday supper, often in combination with thin Swedish pancakes for dessert (and sometimes with a glass of punsch liqueur). So ingrained is the idea of pea soup and pancakes on Thursdays, that many schools and restaurants serve it for Thursday lunch and even the army continues to serve it on Thursdays. This combination is not exclusive to Sweden, of course, as for example Finland also enjoys this particular duo (although I'm told that Finnish pea soup is usually made from dried green peas). Whether this is due to the complicated history between Finland and Sweden or is simply a Scandinavian favourite across the board, I'm not sure.

Ärtsoppa is available in both vegetarian and meaty versions, with the latter usually featuring either salt pork, ham hock, picnic shoulder, or sausage. I decided to use a fairly simple recipe, culled from the back of the dried pea box (Go Green brand) and various online sources, including Swedish Food and the supermarket ICA.

The traditional accompaniments to the soup itself are mustard (a slightly sweet local mustard called Johnny's is very popular for this) and crispbread. Whether you decide to go full pancake as well, is of course up to you.

Gul Ärtsoppa med Fläsk

Swedish Yellow Pea Soup with Pork

Serves 6 - 8

500 grams dried whole yellow peas, soaked in cold water overnight (or for 12 hours)
2 litres fresh water, for cooking the peas
1 medium yellow onion, diced medium
1 stalk celery, diced small
1 teaspoon dried thyme leaf (not ground)
1 teaspoon ground dried ginger
pinch ground allspice
2 bay leaves
2 tablespoons vegetable bouillon/stock concentrate
250 grams kasseler or other lean ham, diced small

In a tremendous economy of effort, add all of the ingredients except the stock concentrate and the ham in a large soup pot, bring to a boil and simmer gently for an hour. Add the stock concentrate and stir through. Using a wooden spoon or potato masher (you could also use an immersion blender, but be careful not to overdo it), crush some of the peas (30-50%, depending how thick you want the soup) and add the finely-diced ham. Simmer for another 30 minutes, or until the remaining whole peas are tender and the broth has thickened.

Serve drizzled with mustard and some crispbread on the side. For the full-on Thursday experience, follow the soup with Swedish pancakes and strawberry preserves! (Much easier to do if you already have a few pancakes leftover.)

In acknowledgement of my Canadian heritage, I note that there are strong similarities between this soup and the traditional pea soup of Québec (Soupe aux pois), with the most prominent difference being that the Québecois version usually sautés the fresh vegetables in a little fat, frequently contains carrots, and does not, as far as I know, contain ginger. I have never seen Soupe aux Pois served with mustard before either, but if anyone has, please let me know!

Tomato, Coconut & Red Lentil Soup

I am a huge fan of soup, as you can probably tell from my collection of soup recipes. Tomato soup has always had a particularly special place in my heart, dating from some of my earliest memories of coming inside for lunch and having a steaming bowl of tomato soup with a toasted cheese sandwich. That combination is still one of my absolute comfort foods.

Much as I continue love classic tomato soup, sometimes I want something a little different. This was the genesis of my popular Fiesta Tomato Soup, which is chock full of veggies and rice, but this time I was craving something both heartier and a little richer. Since I'm a big fan of South Asian flavours, I reached into the cupboard and came up with coconut milk, red lentils, and a spice combination that I felt went with them. This is an absolute new favourite, and another fine reason to always keep coconut milk in the pantry. Remember to remove the bay leaf before blending (cough cough).

Tomato, Coconut, & Red Lentil Soup

Serves 4
Total time, prep & cooking: 1 hour

1 tablespoon canola oil
1 bay leaf
1 small yellow or red onion, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
30 mL (2 tablespoons) tomato paste
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander seed
1/2 teaspoon hot or mild curry powder
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground mustard seed
1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper
1 400 gram tin crushed or diced tomatoes
60 mL (1/4 cup) dried red lentils (whole or split), washed thoroughly (no need to soak)
250 mL coconut milk
400 mL water or vegetable broth/stock

In a medium soup pot (I use a 2 litre pot), heat the oil and bayleaf over medium heat while you chop the onion and garlic. Add the onion and garlic to the pot and stir about, and let it gently fry until the onions are tender. While the onions are frying, open the tin of crushed tomatoes (do not drain them), open the container of coconut milk and stir if necessary), rinse and drain the red lentils, and measure the water/broth. Measure your spices into a small bowl or plate.

Give the onions a stir, and add the tomato paste. If it starts to really stick and you're worried about burning, add a few tablespoons of water. Stir the tomato paste through, and then add the spices and stir through again. Let the mixture cook, stirring frequently for a couple of minutes or until fragrant and integrated.

Add the tin of crushed tomatoes, the rinsed and drained lentils, the coconut milk, and the water/broth. If you are using water instead of broth, and especially if the tomatoes are not salted, you may wish to add a big pinch of salt at this point, too (about a quarter teaspoon). Give the whole pot a nice stir through, scraping the bottom of the pot to make sure nothing is stuck, and bring the mixture up to a gentle boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 40 minutes.

Take the pot from the heat and remove bayleaf. Use an immersion blender (or a regular blender, but in stages so the blender is never too full of hot liquid) to thoroughly blend everything into a smooth soup. Serve at once, or cool and store for up to three days in the fridge or, once cooled up to three months in a sealed container in the freezer.

If you want a garnish, a few drops of coconut milk from the bottom of the container swirled through, with or without a sprinkle of garam masala, is a nice touch. Serve with bread (naan would be especially good) or idli.

Silky Butternut Squash Soup

I love soup. This is an easy-to-make, one-pot, puréed vegetable soup that is so satisfying, you'll look forward to the next bowl even while you're finishing the first one.

The curry powder is optional, but does not give a pronounced flavour and complements the soup very nicely. You could substitue a Thai red curry paste, if you wish, for a different character.

If you don't want any potato in the soup (for whatever reason), you can simply use more squash instead. I note that the potato does contribute to the silky texture of the soup.

The croutons made from a toasted cheese sandwich are of course also optional, but such a good idea!

Note about butternut squash: butternut squash has an enzyme just beneath its skin that has a peculiar effect on the skin of your hands when you handle it, leaving your hands feeling very tight and dry afterward. This feeling is not solved by simply washing and moisturizing; to avoid this unpleasantness, I recommend that you wear rubber gloves (such as for washing dishes) while you peel. I use a sturdy Y-peeler, which has no difficulty tearing through the tough skin.

Butternut Squash Soup

Serves 4

15 mL (1 tablespoon) canola oil
1 small onion, chopped (about a cup/250 mL)
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
2 small dried bay leaves (or 1 large)
1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme leaves, or two sprigs of fresh thyme
1/4 teaspoon curry powder (optional)
500 grams peeled butternut squash, diced
150 grams waxy potato, peeled and diced
750 mL (3 cups) vegetable broth/stock or water
250 mL (1 cup) coconut milk
salt if needed (1/2 teaspoon coarse salt if using water)

Start by peeling and chopping the onion, garlic, butternut squash, and potato. You don't need to worry much about the size of the chopped vegetables, because it will all be pureed in the end. Prepare the broth - I used a bouillon concentrate - (or measure out the water), and open/measure out the coconut milk.

In a good-sized soup pot (a 2 litre pot works great), heat the canola oil over medium heat. Add the onions and garlic, and stir. Cook the onions and garlic for about three minutes, stirring occasionally, or until the onions are tender and translucent. If they start to turn brown, lower the heat slightly. Add the bay leaves, white pepper, thyme, and curry powder, and stir through. If you are using water instead of stock or broth, add the salt now. Add the chopped butternut squash and potato, and stir around to coat them with the seasoned onion mixture. Add the coconut milk right away, and stir again. Add the vegetable broth (or water), and stir through to make sure nothing is stuck to the bottom of the pot. Everything should now be in the pot.

Turn up the heat and bring the proto-soup to an almost-boil, and then reduce the heat and cook at a gentle simmer (with the lid off) for 40 minutes, stirring occasionally to make sure nothing gets stuck to the bottom. Adjust the heat as you go, if necessary, to keep the liquid bubbling gently. Test the potato and the squash to make sure they are soft. Remove the soup pot from the heat.

Use a ladle to remove at least half of the liquid (no chunks!) to a separate bowl, and reserve. Remove the bay leaves from the pot entirely, and discard - their work is done. There should be just enough liquid left in the pot with the vegetables to help purée everything to luscious smoothness. You can use an immersion blender right in the pot itself, or you can transfer the vegetables and remaining liquid to a blender or food processor. Blend/process until very smooth. Return to the pot (if necessary), and add back in the reserved liquid, stirring to integrate. Taste the soup, and add salt if needed. If the puréeing process has cooled the soup down too much, return the pot to a medium-hot burner, and reheat gently until ready. This would be an excellent time to toast some sandwiches or cut some slices of crusty bread.

Serve immediately, or remove from the heat and allow to cool, before storing in the fridge for up to 2 days, or freeze in an appropriatee container for up to 2 months.

Black Bean Soup

This is based on a Mayan recipe for a very simple black bean soup with big, striking flavours. It is easy to cook the beans the day before, and start from there. It is quite filling as a main dish, but half-sized portions make a terrific starter. The soup shown in the picture above includes finely diced ham, which is a purely optional add-in to a recipe that is otherwise completely plant-based.

Black Bean Soup

Serves 4

1 cup dried black beans (no need to soak)
water to cover beans
5 cups water (extra) or stock of your choice
2 tablespoons canola or corn oil
1 onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped or pressed
1 teaspoon dried pequin (aka piquín) chiles, crushed
1 medium or large tomato, peeled, seeded & diced
1/2 teaspoon dried epazote
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 cup dry sherry
salt
Freshly ground black pepper
cilantro to garnish

Part 1 - Cook the beans

Rinse the beans well - you don't want grit or dust in your finished dish. Also give them a quick look-over to make sure there aren't any cunningly disguised little rocks in there - sometimes you find little tiny stones or other debris in dried beans.

Cover the rinsed beans with fresh water, up to about 5 centimetres above the beans. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook until the beans are quite tender, stirring occasionally. This can take as little as an hour or as long as two or two and a half hours, depending on how old your beans are. Play it by ear, but don't let the beans boil hard, or they will split and turn quite mushy. Most of the time, I find that dried black beans are ready in just one hour. Once the beans are tender, you can add a little salt - if you will be using stock in the second part, make sure you don't over-salt at this stage. You can also skip salt entirely until Part 2 and then adjust to taste. Note that if you have hard water (or beans of dubious age), a scant pinch of baking soda added to the water when you begin to cook the beans will help soften them more quickly. You can make the beans a day ahead, and then proceed from this point when you want to serve them. If you will be making the soup at a later date, allow the beans to cool and then refrigerate in their cooking liquid. Once they are completely cold, you can freeze them if you like.

Part 2 - Make the soup

If you are making the soup straight away after cooking the beans, you can prepare and sauté the vegetables while the beans simmer in Part 1 above. 

Remove two thirds of the beans to a blender or food processor and puree. If you have an immersion blender, you can certainly use it right in the pot, but in that case you will want to remove about a third of the whole beans before pureeing (they will be stirred back in later, after the vegetables are added).

In a medium frying pan, preheated over medium heat, heat the oil and sauté the finely chopped onion, chopped garlic, and the pequin chiles until the onion is soft. Add the prepared diced tomato, epazote and cumin and stir until well blended. Add the onion mixture to the black bean purée and purée the mixture again until as smooth as possible. Combine the whole beans and the puréed mixture in the soup pot and add the five cups of extra water (or stock) and simmer gently, stirring frequently until the soup thickens and its components integrate. This takes only about five to ten minutes, in my experience.

If you want an even heartier soup, you could at this point add smoked tofu, diced ham, or diced chicken, as you wish, and simmer gently to heat the new additions through, stirring frequently. Remove any thick stems from the epazote that might have escaped the food processor. Add the sherry and stir through. Taste the soup and add more salt if needed, and it's ready to serve. Add cilantro to individual servings, or substitute finely sliced green onion if preferred.

I like to serve this with crispy baked flour tortilla-crackers, and sometimes a drizzle of contrasting hot sauce to add brightness. You can also top the soup with a scoop of salsa (preferably not cold from the fridge).

The soup also freezes very well, as do the cooked beans from Part 1.

Fiesta Tomato Soup

This is my take on tomato-rice soup, packing it with more vegetables, Mexican seasonings, and a couple of chile peppers for extra oomph, not to mention the added bonus of sinus-clearing properties. The name "Fiesta" comes from the finely diced colourful vegetables looking a bit like confetti. It's not actually a Mexican recipe, although it would probably work very well with a garnish of diced avocado and a squeeze of lime juice.

This is a moderately light soup, without any significant source of protein, but perfect for a light meal. If you wanted a slightly heartier version, I recommend adding a cup of cooked pinto beans. You could round out the meal with a toasted sandwich, but if you're wanting a lighter affair it's perfect with just a couple of crackers or hunk of bread (or tortilla) on the side.

You could add still more vegetables if you like - finely diced zucchini would be a good choice - and if you simply can't picture a vegetable soup without carrots, they'd be good here, too.

Fiesta Tomato Soup

Makes about 8 cups

1 tablespoon olive oil
2 bay leaves
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
2 stalks celery, finely diced
1 cup frozen corn kernels (or kernels cut from one fresh ear of corn)
1/2 bell pepper (red, orange, or yellow), diced
2 jalapeño peppers, seeded and finely diced
2 tablespoons dry vermouth
400 mL (1 1/2 cups) canned crushed tomatoes
500 mL (2 cups) vegetable stock or broth
500 mL (2 cups) water
1/2 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
100 grams (1/2 cup) parboiled rice, rinsed
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon Mexican oregano (or marjoram)
1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper
parsley or cilantro (optional)

There's nothing surprising about the method here - standard soup-making business. In a large soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat, and add the bay leaves. Add the onion and celery, and cook, stirring periodically, for about five or ten minutes until they vegetables become translucent. Add the garlic and the corn, and stir through again. When it starts to stick to the bottom of the pan, add the vermouth and stir through again, scraping up any stuck bits. Right away you can add the crushed tomatoes, the cumin, oregano, and white pepper, and stir through.

Add the stock or broth and the water, and bring it up to a simmer. Stir in the bell pepper and jalapeño peppers. Taste the soup to see if you need to add any salt - I didn't add any, because my stock cube was quite salty, but add some if you think it needs it. The soup won't taste great yet, because it hasn't had time for the flavours to come together, so if it's a little thin at this point don't be disappointed.

Finally, add the well-rinsed rice. Parboiled is the best rice to use for this, because it doesn't turn to mush in longer cooking times. That characteristic makes parboiled rice a poor choice for congee, but an excellent choice for this soup, because the grains stay whole even after a spell in the freezer, if you make enough for leftovers. Stir the rice through, and turn the heat to low. Cook the soup for 15 minutes on the lowest setting, without lifting the lid, and then turn the heat off completely and leave it (still without lifting the lid) for another fifteen minutes. Don't worry, it's still going to be plenty hot. When the timer goes off, your soup is ready. Stir in a little parsley or cilantro, and start ladling it into bowls. The rice and the corn should be perfectly cooked but not mushy, and the soup will have thickened a bit.

If you're going to freeze the soup, cool it completely before putting in the fridge overnight, and then transfer to the freezer the next day.

Harak Osba'o -- Damascus-style Lentil Noodle Stew

Lentils and rice are such a natural and common combination, that it's almost odd to think of them apart, let alone with an interloper. Lentils and pasta? You don't see them together all that often, outside certain soups (such as Harira), and the occasional vegetarian adaptation. However, the textures are surprisingly complementary, and these lentils definitely hold their own as a rightful ingredient that isn't a substitute for ground meat.

The name "Harak Osba'o" translates to "He burned his finger" suggesting an overeager cook who couldn't wait to tuck into an irresistible creation. The pomegranate molasses and tamarind concentrate give an enticing mild tanginess.

This version is adapted from a few different online versions, including one from The Food Obsessive and one from Taste of Beirut.

The garnish of cilantro and pomegranate seeds give a lovely burst of tart freshness to each bite.

Harak Osba'o
Damascus-style Lentil Noodle Stew

Serves 4

1 cup (200 grams) dried brown or green lentils, washed and drained
150 grams long pasta, broken into short lengths
2 medium yellow onions, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced or crushed
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 cup cilantro leaves, roughly chopped, plus more for garnish
3 cups vegetable broth or water
1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses
1 teaspoon tamarind concentrate
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt (more if using water instead of broth)
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 cup pomegranate seeds to garnish (optional)
Ground sumac to garnish
Extra hot water (eg. from a recently boiled kettle) as needed (1 to 2 cups)

In a soup pot, fry the onion in olive oil over medium heat until softened and a little browned, about 10 minutes, then add the cilantro and garlic and fry a further few seconds, while stirring. Spoon out half of the onion-garlic-cilantro mixture into a small bowl and set aside to use as garnish at the end.

Add the lentils to the remaining onion-garlic-cilantro mixture, and add the water (preferably hot, from a recently boiled kettle, but cold is fine, it will just take longer to come up to a simmer). Add the salt. Salt won't make the lentils hard, but adding it now will help them keep from falling apart. Simmer the lentils on low until tender, 15 - 30 minutes, depending on the type, so watch them carefully!

Add the tamarind and pomegranate molasses and stir through. Add the pasta. You can use broken long pasta or short pasta such as small shells. There needs to be enough liquid for the pasta to absorb, resulting in a thick stew once the pasta has finished cooking, so you'll probably need to add a bit more water - start with about a cup - and then add the black pepper and other spices and stir them through.

Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, for about 15 minutes, or until the pasta is tender and the mixture is no longer watery. Keep an eye on the amount of liquid, and if it's getting too thick, add more water, a little at a time. Taste, and adjust seasoning if necessary.

Turn out into a large serving bowl or tureen, and garnish with the remaining onion-garlic-cilantro mixture and sprinkled with sumac (or, individual serving bowls, topped with the onion-garlic-cilantro mixture, and sumac). Fresh pomegranate seeds are also a nice garnish, if available, offering colour, texture, and juicy freshness.

If you don't have tamarind or pomegranate molasses? Try lemon juice or a little apple cider vinegar to bring the tanginess to the party. The simplest versions that I found call only for black pepper instead of the mix of spices, so you can do it that way, too, if you're so inclined. There are probably as many variations as there are cooks.

Poule au Pot: French simmered chicken

This wonderfully easy dish is one of the hearts of French country cooking. There is a bit of prep, and a rather long simmering time - but one that requires little effort from the cook. The end result is incredibly tender poached chicken, an assortment of vegetables, and an outstanding stock that can be served with the dish (pooled around the chicken and vegetables), alongside the dish (in a small bowl or cup), or kept aside for any other use you might have for a large quantity of fragrant, intense chicken stock.

Poule au Pot (Chicken in the pot) is the very close cousin of Pot au Feu (Pot on the fire) which is essentially the same dish by method, but made with beef instead of chicken and slightly different seasonings. There are a lot of variations of Poule au Pot, but I have chosen a fairly classic combination of vegetables. Some versions include a ground meat stuffing for the chicken, but I decided that it would be plenty of food on its own, and instead used the chicken cavity to hold the fresh thyme safely out of the way of the cooking vegetables.

When I was researching the recipe, I discovered a lot of references to a (poorly documented) speech by France's King Henry IV declaring the goal of "a chicken in every labourer's pot" - for certain values of labourer, anyway. A more modern example of the sentiment is found in Herbert Hoover's US presidential campaign in 1928, in the form of a circular promising "a chicken in every pot and a car in every garage."

There are a lot of ways to boil a chicken; I was honestly a bit skeptical of the long simmering time, given my almost complete conversion to the steeping method for cooking poultry. But the chicken is not cottony or tough. In fact, the chicken falls from the bones so easily that one should pay attention when separating the meat from the bones and what we like to call the grebbly bits.

I chose to serve this one with a white, roux-based sauce which I have seen named variously Sauce Blanche, Sauce Ivoire, and Sauce Suprême, amongst others. It is made with a velouté, using some of the stock from cooking the chicken, an egg yolk, milk, and crème fraîche. Recipe for my version of the sauce follows the Poule au Pot recipe below. We originally draped the sauce only over the chicken, but subsequently added it to the vegetables, too.

Speaking of the vegetables, I only cooked enough vegetables for two servings, which is why the mise en place looks a little light in the pictures below. Increase the number of vegetables as needed (or as your cooking pot allows).

Poule au Pot

Serves 4 - 6

1 whole chicken
water, enough to almost cover the chicken in a dutch oven
1 tablespoon coarse salt, plus extra salt to exfoliate the chicken
1 medium onion
4 whole cloves (spice)
3 - 4 sprigs fresh thyme
2 bay leaves
4 medium potatoes
8 small carrots
4 small turnips
2 small leeks
2 stalks celery
4 cloves garlic

Step 1: exfoliate the raw chicken. This is a technique I learned from Singaporean cuisine (specifically, Hainanese Chicken). First, remove any pinfeathers or feather debris from the chicken skin. Take a handful of salt (preferably smooth-surfaced coarse salt, such as pickling salt, to avoid tearing the skin), and massage it thoroughly into the chicken. All over. This is best done over a sink, so you can let the salt fall freely down the drain for easy clean up. When the chicken skin is smooth and tight-looking, rinse the salt from the chicken, drain and place the chicken in a large cooking pot (I used a dutch oven).

Step 2: Stuff the thyme into the cavity of the chicken, and tie the legs closed. Wash all of the vegetables thoroughly, and peel or trim where needed. Remove the dark green parts of the leeks and tuck them (and the feathery tops from the celery) around the chicken. Peel and quarter the onion, and stick the outer layer of each quarter with a clove. Add the onion quarters to the pot. Add the bay leaves to the pot. Gently pour cold water over the chicken until it is almost covered, with just the top of the breast above water.


Step 3: Turn the heat on high, and cover the pot until the water starts to just barely boil. Remove the lid and skim away any grey scum that may rise to the surface (there will be a lot less scum if you have exfoliated the chicken - I only needed to wipe the inside edge of the pot with a towel). Turn the heat to low, cover the pot again, and let simmer very gently for 80 minutes. Check it from time to time, and it if is bubbling too vigorously on the lowest temperature, leave the lid cocked to release some of the heat. You can use some of this time to peel and trim the vegetables.


Step 4: Use tongs or a slotted spoon to removed the leek tops from the pot. You can discard them (they are fibrous and have given up all of their flavour to the stock already). Raise the heat under the pot, and carefully add the raw vegetables to the pot, tucking them around the chicken if possible. If you really need more space, you can lift the chicken up (carefully!) and put the raw vegetables underneath it. More of the chicken will stick out of the water, but that's fine. If you need to remove some of the liquid to avoid the pot from overflowing, scoop some of the broth out with a measuring cup into a clean bowl or mug. The raw vegetables will cool the broth, which is why you've turned the heat up. When it begins to bubble once more (gently!) turn the heat back to minimum and cover the pot. Continue to cook for another 30 minutes (35 minutes if your potatoes are as large as these ones).


Step 5: While the vegetables finish cooking, and make the Sauce Suprême (see below). Warm some shallow bowls or plates, if necessary.

Step 6: Test the potatoes for doneness with a fork, and if they are not ready, continue to cook for another five or ten minutes, as needed. When they are cooked through, use a slotted spoon and/or spider to gently remove the vegetables and the chicken from the stock, being careful not to crush them.


Arrange on a platter if serving at the table, otherwise, divide the vegetables between the individual bowls. Carve the chicken into quarters (or sixths) and distribute amongst the bowls. You can add a little of the chicken stock to the bottom of each bowl, if you like. Spoon a little sauce over the chicken, and garnish with freshly ground black pepper. Serve with extra sauce on the side, if you like.

Accompany with a crisp white wine.

Sauce Suprême

Serves 4 - 6

30 grams salted butter
30 grams flour
400 mL chicken stock (or a combination of chicken stock and whole milk)
1 egg yolk
200 grams crème fraîche

In a small saucepan, melt the butter and stir in the flour. Cook and stir over medium heat for about five minutes, but don't let the roux darken. Add the chicken stock to the roux, slowly, whisking constantly, until smooth, and then turn the heat to low. Add a spoonful of the crème fraîche to the egg yolk, and stir to combine. Add the yolk mixture into the sauce, and whisk until thoroughly incorporated. Add the rest of the crème fraîche, and stir it through. Keep the mixture on low heat, stirring, and let it heat thoroughly, but do not let it boil. If you see any bubbles at all, remove the pot from the burner entirely. The sauce can stand while it awaits the chicken and vegetables to be ready.

One final note - you can of course customize the vegetables, and even the seasonings, to your taste. I've seen versions with green cabbage (blanche, before adding to the pot, to defeat the infamous "cabbagey smell"), rutabaga, parsnips, fennel bulb, tarragon, parsley, and shallots. Sweet potato might be nice, too. Essentially, any vegetable you'd like in a stew, you can pretty much use here. If you are not a fan of potatoes, feel free to omit them from the recipe and instead cook up some rice on the side (or do both if you just really like carbohydrates). Plain rice or mushroom pilaf both appear to be popular choices.

Turkey Congee

Congee (also called jook in Cantonese, amongst many other names worldwide) is a rice porridge popular throughout Asia, and there are many different ways to have it. At its most basic, it is a blank canvas for your favourite flavours, whether you need it to be soothing and restorative, or something a little more lively. It is almost infinitely customizable to what you already might have available in your kitchen. It can be meat-based, or vegetarian, or vegan. Congee isn't always made from rice (millet, mung beans, barley, and sorghum are some of the other variations), but rice is by far and away the most common version. It is a popular any time of day - from breakfast to late night, post-pub snack. Every time I make congee, I remember how much I love it, and vow on the spot to make it more often.

This version came from my desire to make something with the strong turkey stock that I made from the bones of our Christmas turkey. Since I'm generally pretty well stocked for Asian condiments and garnish-ingredients, I was able to make this with what was on hand.

It does take a while to cook, but it's fairly low effort, even so: stir it every so often, and it takes care of itself.

Turkey Congee

Serves 2

100 grams (about 1/2 cup) long or short grain rice
1 litre (4 cups) water
250 mL (1 cup) strong turkey stock
1/2 - 3/4 teaspoon coarse salt
1 cup diced or shredded cooked turkey meat

Garnishes

1 clove of fresh garlic, finely slivered
1 inch fresh ginger, finely slivered
1/4 cup thinly sliced green onion
cilantro leaves
slices of red chile pepper
a few drops of sesame oil

You can garnish lightly or heavily, depending on what you have on hand:

Other typical congee garnishes might include:

Youtiao (Chinese doughnut/cruller)
hot chile oil
soy sauce (not too much, or it will overwhelm)
peanuts
pork floss
fried shallots/shallot oil
preserved duck egg
lettuce (stirred in at the end)
sliced mushrooms
preserved greens
...and many more (and that's not even counting featured ingredients, such as the turkey in this version.

Wash your rice well in cool water. Meanwhile, bring the litre of water listed in the recipe to a boil in a medium-large soup pot, and once it is boiling, add the stock and the rice. Reduce the heat to medium-low until the mixture is bubbling enthusiastically, but not at a rolling boil, cock a lid half-on the pot (to let steam escape, and set the timer for 20 minutes. Feel free to stir occasionally.

When the timer goes, give everything a good stir, making sure there's nothing stuck to the bottom of the pan. I like a wooden spoon for this. Taste the broth, and add the salt. Start with 1/2 teaspoon (especially if you are using a salty, commercial turkey stock, or will be adding soy sauce later), and add more later if needed. Stir well and leave it to cook, uncovered, this time, stirring occasionally, for another 20 minutes on the timer.

When the second timer goes, check on it again. It should be much thicker (and more likely to start sticking to the bottom of the pot), but still not completely at congee-texture. These things take time. Stir it really well, and put the timer on for another 20 minutes, uncovered. At this time, you can chop or shred the turkey meat and have it standing by, and you can start to prepare the other garnishes.

When the timer goes for the third time, add the turkey meat to the congee, and marvel at how much thicker it has gotten. If it is too thick, feel free to add a half-cup of water (or more, but add only a little at a time) until it reach the consistency you like. Let the mixture cook, stirring frequently for 15 - 20 minutes, and then ladle into bowls. Top with the garnishes of your choice, and devour.

The below picture shows the finished congee, just before the garnishes are added. You can see a little of the turkey peeking through, but you can also see how thick the porridge itself is.

German Cream of Chanterelle Soup: Pfifferlingrahmsuppe

Fall is Pfifferling (chanterelle) season. They're all over the farmer's markets in glorious colour and ridiculously low prices. They're also all over the menus about town -- amongst them, pasta with chanterelles, spätzle with chanterelles, salads with warm chanterelle dressing, chanterelle toasts, schnitzel with chanterelles (a slightly fancier version of the old standby Jägerschnitzel) and of course, chanterelle soup.

I was inspired to make this one after having a really excellent version at Zum Goldstein, here in Mainz. I fully expect to eat a lot more chanterelles before the season winds down.

I've now made two versions of this soup - the first one partially thickened with potato, which is a common recipe in these parts, and the second thickened with a bit of flour and use of a stick-blender. The first one was too potato-forward for my taste - it obscured the delicate mushroom fragrance and flavour. The second one was beautiful. Nothing but rich, creamy mushroom goodness.

German Cream of Chanterelle Soup: Pfifferlingrahmsuppe

Serves 3 - 4

300 grams fresh chanterelles, cleaned and chopped
1/2 small yellow onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 sprigs fresh thyme
1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper
1/8 teaspoon celery salt
2 tablespoons brandy
2 tablespoons unbleached flour
300 - 400 mL vegetable broth, at room temperature
300 mL whole milk
100 mL whipping cream

Clean the mushrooms really thoroughly, and slice a few for garnish, chopping the rest roughly.

Melt half the butter in a medium-large soup pot and fry up a few of the nicest looking slices of mushroom until dark golden. Put aside to use as garnish. Add the rest of the butter, melt it, then add the onion and garlic. Cook and stir until translucent, then add the chopped mushrooms, fresh thyme sprigs, celery salt, and white pepper. Cook and stir until the liquid boils off and the mushrooms are tender but starting to catch on the bottom of the pot. Deglaze with the brandy, and scrape the bottom if necessary. Add the milk and stir, and bring the temperature up to a bare simmer.

Shake together the water (cold, or at room temperature) with the flour until it makes a smooth slurry. Add the slurry to the soup, stirring it through and continuing to stir as it heats and thickens. Continue to cook the soup on the lowest setting, with the soup bubbling a tiny bit, stirring frequently for about 20 minutes or until the taste of raw flour is gone, and the soup is thick. Add the cream, and stir through again.

Remove from the heat, remove the now-naked thyme stems, and puree the soup with a stick blender until smooth and golden. Taste and adjust for salt if necessary. If the soup is too thick, thin it with a little extra water or vegetable broth. Ladle the soup into bowls and top with the reserved fried mushrooms and an extra bit of fresh thyme, if you have it. I placed a tiny raft of toast under the fried mushrooms to keep from them sinking into the soup, but it's of course not entirely necessary.

For those who aren't vegetarians, I can also recommend the local way of serving this - instead of fried mushrooms, sear small cubes of blood sausage and use that as a garnish. The salty, meaty, soft texture of the sausage goes perfectly with the soup.

Looking for more chanterelle recipes? Check out my post from last year for Chanterelle Risotto.

Harira

I continue to be inspired by my vacation in Marrakech last year, and as you can see I have many more Moroccan recipes still to explore.

Harira is a traditional soup from Morocco, and while it is enjoyed year-round as an appetizer or light meal, it gains particular significance during Ramadan, for many households being a significant dish for iftar, the traditional meal that breaks the daily fasting during that month. Its recipes are as varied as the households they come from, but generally are all based on a combination of tomatoes, legumes, a starch such as rice or pasta, green herbs, and spices. Meat is an optional component, but used in fairly small quantities as it is not the focus of the soup. I've used lamb in this version, because we have such an excellent supplier of good quality lamb that I cook with it as often as I can, but beef or chicken could be used instead or the meat could be omitted entirely. For a meatless, vegan harira, I would double the amount of lentils, and possibly also increase the amount of chickpeas.

The soup is thick and hearty, and always served with bread. As part of iftar, it might also be accompanied by dates, hard boiled eggs, small savoury pastries, even homemade pizza. Iftar is served just after sundown, and although it is Ramadan right now, we are not Muslim so we enjoyed the harira at our usual dinnertime.



This version of harira is pretty close to the one I first tried at the market restaurants that spring up every evening in Jemaa El Fna, the main square of Marrakech. It is adapted from MarocMama's recipe.

Harira with Lamb

Makes 7-8 cups

1 medium yellow onion
4 cloves garlic
5 large roma tomatoes
225 grams lamb, diced small (optional)
1 cup chopped parsley
1/2 cup chopped cilantro
4 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon olive oil
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons black pepper
1 tablespoon sweet paprika
1 tablespoon turmeric
1 small pinch saffron, crushed between fingers (optional)
400 grams cooked chickpeas
1/4 cup dry green or brown lentils (washed)
30 grams spaghettini or other thin pasta (broken into short lengths)
1/2 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
5 cups water

Prepare your mise en place: roughly chop the onion and garlic together, and the tomatoes and herbs each separately.

In a food processor, puree the onion and garlic until smooth (a tablespoon of water may help this process).

In a Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion/garlic puree, and stir and cook for a few minutes. Increase the heat slightly, and add the meat, if using. Stir and cook the meat until it has lost its raw look on all sides.

Add the tomatoes to your now-empty food processor and quickly puree. Add the pureed tomatoes, tomato paste, chopped herbs, salt and the spices, and stir well. Add four of the five cups of water, and bring up to a simmer. Add the washed lentils and chickpeas, and stir through. Reduce the heat to a bare simmer, and let cook for an hour, to let the lamb get tender. This can be reduced to 30 minutes if you aren't using the meat - long enough for the lentils to get tender.

While the soup is simmering, whisk together until smooth the remaining cup of water with the flour. Let it stand while the soup cooks, so that the flour fully hydrates.

When the lentils are cooked and the lamb has had some time to get tender, add the broken pasta and stir through. Then, stirring constantly, add the flour/water mixture in a thin, steady stream. The soup will start to thicken very rapidly, but keep stirring it until all of the flour mixture has been added. This is a very thick soup. Cook and stir for another 20 minutes, to allow enough time for the raw taste of the flour to cook out, and for the pasta to cook. You will need to keep the burner on its lowest heat and stir the soup regularly, to prevent the scorching. Serve as an appetizer or whole meal, with bread and any other accompaniments you like.

Spargelcremesuppe: German cream of (white) asparagus soup

May is Spargelzeit (asparagus season) here in Germany, and the farmers' markets are heaped high with piles and piles and piles of asparagus. Most of it is white asparagus here, with only a few options for the green asparagus that is more commonly available in Vancouver.

It is on all the restaurant menus around town, many of which have an entire special menu devoted to this beloved vegetable, which takes top billing. It's not uncommon to see asparagus with hollandaise (or Grüne Soße, Frankfurt's famous green sauce), for example, which comes with a side of schnitzel. Where else are you going to see schnitzel as a side dish? But even the restaurants that don't go all-out, will often feature an asparagus soup. Sometimes smooth, sometimes chunky, almost always creamy, and always delicious.

This recipe is adapted very slightly from the Dr. Oetker Heimatküche cookbook, our first German-language cookbook. The book notes that you can also make this with green asparagus, but that the cooking times for both the broth-making and the asparagus pieces should be reduced by two to three minutes (reduced by five minutes for really thin green asparagus).

It is a bit shockingly minimalist in its ingredient list - no onion, no garlic, no potato, no prepared vegetable stock (you make your own asparagus stock by boiling the trimmings, for enhanced asparagus flavour), while still feeling a bit involved, process-wise. It was easy, despite the multiple steps, and I will happily make this again.

Spargelcremesuppe

Serves 4

500 grams white asparagus
1 litre water
1 teaspoon coarse salt
1 teaspoon sugar
200 - 300 whole milk (see below)
3 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
2 egg yolks
3 tablespoons whipping cream
Salt, white pepper, nutmeg to taste
2 tablespoons chopped parsley for garnish

Wash the asparagus very thoroughly, as it can be surprisingly gritty. Use a strong vegetable peeler or a sharp knife to aggressively remove the skin/outer layer of the stalks, keeping the heads intact. Chop off the bottom two or three inches of the stalks, and split the butt-ends lengthwise. Place the peelings and the butt-ends into a 2-litre sized saucepan with the water, salt, sugar, and one tablespoon of butter. Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and let simmer for 15 minutes. Strain peelings and ends out of the stock (to be discarded, once cooled), and return the stock to the saucepan.

Bring the stock back to a simmer. Slice the asparagus stalks into rounds, leaving the heads slightly bigger pieces. Add the asparagus to the stock, and simmer uncovered on medium-low for 15 minutes. Strain the asparagus pieces from the stock, setting them aside to be added back into the soup later.

Measure the stock, which should be a bit less than a litre. Add sufficient milk to bring the total amount of liquid back to one litre, and keep the mixture standing by in a pitcher.

Melt the remaining two tablespoons of butter in the emptied saucepan. Add the flour and stir or whisk well, cooking until the mixture is a rich yellow colour. Slowly and steadily add the stock/milk mixture, whisking furiously to prevent lumps. When all the liquid is added, stir periodically over the next 15 minutes while the mixture thickens slightly. Do not let it boil, or the texture will become grainy.

Return the asparagus to the pot, and allow the mixture to continue to cook, over low heat, for another five minutes, stirring periodically. Do not let it boil.

Whisk together the egg yolks and cream until smooth. Using a ladle, add a little of the hot soup to the yolk mixture in a thin stream, whisking steadily, until you've added about a quarter of a cup of hot liquid. Now add the yolk mixture into the soup pot, stirring to ensure smooth integration, and let cook, still on low, still stirring a bit, for another five minutes.


Taste the soup, and add salt, white pepper, and nutmeg (just a dash - not too much!) to taste. Ladle into bowls, and garnish with chopped parsley.

This soup also purées beautifully. We had it "as is" for dinner, but the bit leftover was puréed the next day to make a starter course. I used a stick blender to puréed the cold solids (with a very little of the soup liquid) just until smooth. Then the purée was added back into the rest of the soup, stirred well, and heated through.

Mashed Potato Soup

I don't currently have a blender, food processor, or even an electric hand mixer. Things that need pulverizing get pulverized the old-fashioned way, using one or more of: mortar & pestle, grater, sieve, chef's knife, criss-cross potato masher. There are whole categories of soup that I'm not making these days, because the labour required to give them a smooth texture usually relegates them to non-weeknight status, and there's usually a huge list of time-consuming recipes that take priority. This soup, however, starts with mashed potatoes. If you have some leftover from a previous meal, this will come together very fast, otherwise you'll need to start by boiling up some potatoes. Still manageable on a weeknight.

Mashed Potato Soup

Serves 4

4 cups mashed potato
2 tablespoons butter, divided
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
big pinch of salt
2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
2/3 cup schmand or thick sour cream
celery seed
white pepper
4 European style wieners (eg. Frankfurter Würstchen), sliced
up to 1 cup diced cooked vegetables (eg. carrots)

If you don't have leftover mashed potatoes, you'll need about four good-sized floury (as opposed to waxy) potatoes, peeled, and boiled or steamed until tender. Cut them in half or smaller if you like, to speed the process.

While the potatoes cook, sauté the onion and garlic in a tablespoon of butter, just until golden and soft. Season with a big pinch of salt, and a smaller pinch of celery seed and white pepper. Set aside.

Drain the liquid from the cooked potatoes, saving it to use in place of some of the chicken stock if you like. Return the potatoes to the warm pan and put it back on the warm burner. Use a wooden spoon to break up the potatoes, so that the steam evaporates off of them, drying them a bit. When the potatoes are well-shattered, add the rest of the butter and mash until very smooth.

Add the sautéed onions to the potatoes, and mash some more. Add the schmand or sour cream, and mash until smooth. Add the broth (and/or potato water) slowly, stirring well with a wooden spoon, until all the liquid is added and the soup is smooth. Turn the heat back on under the soup pot, and stir in the sliced wieners and cooked vegetables. Let cook on a low-ish heat just until the wieners and vegetables are thoroughly heated up, and the soup is hot (don't let it boil). Serve with a roll on the side, German style, or just enjoy as is.

Lamb & Guinness Stew

This delicious stew is built using my base model for meat stew: brown the meat well on at least two sides, braise the meat with onions for a good long time, add vegetables and cook until tender, season to taste.

We had this bread the first night with thick slices of rye bread from our bakery, but just about any kind of bread would be good with this. The remaining half-batch of stew was put into a freezer container to be pulled out later in the month when we're feeling particularly in need of an effortless, homemade meal. Depending on my energy level at the time, I might, or might not, decide to make biscuits or dumplings to go along with the stew.

In Germany, the supermarkets and farmers' markets have a pretty wonderful concept: Suppengrün. Literally translated, it means "Soup greens" and consists of a single bundle containing at least a wedge of celeriac, a few carrots, a section of leek, and some parsley. Some of them will have part carrots and part parsnips, and some of them will add a whole bundle of fresh herbs instead of just the parsley, but that's dependent on the individual character of the vendor. The basic version is always available, and is nicely sized for one pot of soup or stew. This is not only perfectly sized for small German fridges, but also helps keep food waste to a minimum. One package of Suppengrün just exactly what you need for a recipe without having to buy a whole bag of carrots, for example, or an enormous celery root or bunch that you might not be able to use up in time before it gets squishy in the vegetable drawer. It takes care of the crisper portion of the mirepoix in one item, and even the fancier ones are well priced. I hope this idea catches on worldwide.

Lamb & Guinness Stew

Serves 4 - 6, depending on sides

900 grams cubed lamb shoulder, lightly salted
1 tablespoon peanut oil (or other oil for frying)
1 large yellow onion, diced medium
1 small leek, white part only, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup diced celeriac or 2 stalks of celery, diced
3 large carrots (or a mixture of carrots and parsnips)
2 large waxy potatoes
1 can or bottle of Guinness
2 cups lamb or beef broth or stock
3 bay leaves
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1/4 teaspoon white pepper, ground
1/2 teaspoon yellow mustard seeds
2 tablespoons of all-purpose flour
1/2 cup water

Heat a dutch oven over medium-high heat, and when hot, add the oil. When the oil is also hot, add a sparse layer of lamb cubes, and allow to sear on one side, before turning to sear on a second side. Remove the lamb from the pan to a holding plate, and repeat until all of the lamb cubes are seared on two sides. Add the diced onion, the leek, the bay leaves, and the minced garlic to the fond in the empty pot, and add a little splash of water if necessary to prevent scorching. If you are using stalk celery instead of celeriac, add that now, too. Stir and scrape up the brown fond in the bottom of the pot, until the onions are starting to turn translucent. Add the tomato paste, and stir through again, being careful not to let it burn. Add the Worcestershire sauce, the mustard seeds, and the ground white pepper, and stir through.

Then, add the Guinness, and stir through, making sure to scrape up the bottom of the pot very thoroughly. Add the lamb or beef broth or stock (it's okay to use a good quality concentrate that you like the flavour of), and return the seared lamb to the pot. Simmer, covered at a low temperature for 1.5 hours, for meltingly tender lamb.

While the lamb simmers, prepare the remaining vegetables. Peel the carrots and cut them into large bite-sized chunks. Same for the potatoes. The celery root should be heavily peeled, and diced fairly small.

When the lamb is tender, combine the flour and the half cup of water in a small, sealable container, and shake vigorously (holding it shut the whole time) to make a smooth slurry. Pour it into the dutch oven and stir it through. It will not look very appealing, at first, and it won't do much to thicken the stew until it comes up to a full simmer, but it needs to go in now because it takes about a half-hour to cook out the raw taste of the flour.

Add the prepared vegetables, stir through, and bring up to a simmer again (the slurry and the cold vegetables will bring the temperature down very quickly). Turn the heat back down, cover the pot, and simmer for another 30 - 45 minutes (testing larger chunks of carrots for doneness seems to work well). Alternatively, you can put it (covered) in the oven at 350 F for the same amount of time.

Serve with a fat slice of bread, or a bun, or biscuits, or dumplings. Leftovers, should you be so lucky, keep nicely in a sealed container in the freezer for up to a month without loss of quality. Be sure to cool the stew thoroughly before freezing, for best textural results. I like to leave it in the fridge overnight, and then transfer it to the freezer in the morning.

Kartoffel Eintopf: German Potato Stew

Potatoes play a fairly important role in German cuisine. Spring, Summer, Fall, or Winter, there's a potato dish (or several to choose from) for every season, every occasion. At the very least, the humble "Salzkartoffeln" (often manifested as a simple, peeled, boiled potato) is an all-purpose and upstanding accompaniment in a land that has not fallen prey to the fear of carbohydrates.

Potato soup and potato stew are stalwarts of the restaurant menus around the Rhine, especially in Fall and Winter. They come together quickly, don't take a laundry list of ingredients (and can often be made entirely with items already in the German pantry), and are satisfying for lunch or dinner, or as a first course.

There are a ton of recipes out there, and a zillion (roughly) variations. With or without meat, and with or without dairy are the biggest party lines to be drawn, and quite frankly, I see merits to all of these. Here is my recipe for Kartoffel Eintopf (with ham, without dairy) which can be on the table in less than 30 minutes any day of the week.

Kartoffel Eintopf

Serves 2 - 4

3 large potatoes (Yukon Gold or similar)
3 large carrots
1 large onion
3 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 bay leaves
75 grams ham
2 cups vegetable broth or stock
celery salt to taste
white pepper to taste
pinch marjoram or thyme
1 tablespoon flour
water as needed

Optional:
1 stalk of celery or 1/4 celeriac
1 leek
(technically, the ham is also optional)

Coarsely dice the potatoes, carrot and onion. Finely dice the garlic, celery or celeriac and leek (if using), and ham.

In a moderately large soup pot, heat the olive oil. Add the onions, garlic, and bay leaves, and saute until the onions start to turn translucent. Add the ham, celery salt, white pepper, and marjoram, and stir through. Add the potatoes and carrots and stir about until everything is lightly coated with the oil. Add the vegetable broth, and if necessary, enough water to 3/4 cover the vegetables. Bring up to a simmer.

Make a slurry of cold water and the flour (I shake mine together in a plastic lidded container until smooth), and add to the soup. Bring up to a simmer, reduce the heat, cover, and let cook for about 20 minutes. Remove lid, and if necessary, continue to cook until the liquid thickens into a light gravy.

If you are using ham and vegetable broth, you probably will not need much more if anything in the way of salt, but do taste and add a little if necessary. Serve with a hearty, crusty bread, and maybe a nice salad.

Carrot & Fennel Soup

This soup has a remarkable, silky texture, even when simply pureed with a stick-blender (no chinoise or cheesecloth necessary). The fennel brings a lightness to the character of the soup, as well as a more complex, sophisticated flavour. The fennel also helps keep the sweetness from the carrots in check. This is one of those rare dishes that feels as healthy as it is, so you can feel comforted and virtuous at the same time.

Whenever I make this dish, I berate myself for not making it more often. It's easy, lovely, and very satisfying. As you can see, it doesn't take long to knock together - most of the total time is unattended cooking time.

Carrot & Fennel Soup
Serves 4 (6 as a starter)

1 fennel bulb, sliced
450 grams carrot, sliced
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
2 cups vegetable broth (or light chicken broth)
2 cups water
1 teaspoon fennel seed
1 teaspoon coriander seed
1/2 teaspoon cumin seed

In a medium-large soup pot, over a medium flame, heat the olive oil and saute the onion and garlic with the spices. Add the sliced carrots and fennel, and stir well. Add the water and the veggie broth, and stir well. Simmer gently, covered for 30 - 40 minutes, or until the vegetables are soft. Puree with a stick blender, being patient to ensure everything is finely pureed. Check seasoning to see if it needs more coriander seed or salt. If your vegetable broth is quite salty, it may not need either.

Serve with crusty bread. If you're not vegetarian, you might want some slices of chorizo on the side or floated on the top, too. For extra fancy presentation use some of the fennel fronds as a garnish instead of the token cilantro shown here. Very fine rings of red chile would also make a delightful finish.

You can also use curry masala instead of the whole spices, for a slightly more curried taste, and you can substitute a cup of the water with coconut milk for a creamier, more luscious effect.

This soup freezes very well, making it a great item to stash in the freezer for an emergency dinner, or as make-ahead lunches. It reheats nicely in the microwave, getting a meal on the table in minutes.

Sour Cherry Soup (Hideg Meggyleves)

Revenge is not the only thing that is best served cold.

When I was visiting Hungary in 1995, I fell in love with Sour Cherry Soup. It was late July, and it was about 40℃, and I was playing air-conditioning bingo on my excursions around Budapest. I ate a lot of ice cream, and tried to figure out ways to stay cool.

Fortunately for me, I was able to connect with a former co-worker and his wife, both Hungarian Canadians, who had come home for a visit at the same time I was there. With the bonus of interpreters of both language and culture, I found myself in destinations I might not have otherwise found (caving, for example, and also some peculiarly situated wine bars), and eating and drinking things that might not have otherwise caught my eye. Sour cherry soup was a revelation for not only deliciousness, but also for its cooling properties. It was served primarily as an appetizer course, but I imagine it would do just fine for dessert, as it is on the sweet side.

I am sad to report that I misplaced my original recipe for Meggyleves - I've been making it ever since I got back to Canada, although not necessarily frequently. I've consulted the internet extensively, and cobbled together from (prompted) memory just how the version that I first made goes. I do put in less sugar these days - and I may like it all the more. I'm pretty happy with this version, so it's going in the black binder, so I don't lose it again.

You do need good sour cherries, Morellos for preference. Fresh, also, for preference. I'm given to understand that pitting or not pitting is up to the cook, but I generally pit mine (unless the cherries are likely to fall apart). When I saw these at the Farmers' Market last week, I knew just what to do:

Hideg Meggyleves (Cold Sour Cherry Soup)

Serves 6 - 8 as an appetizer

1 lb. fresh morello cherries, pitted
1 cup good red wine*
3 cups water
1 cinnamon stick
2 clove buds
1/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons unbleached flour, shaken with 1/3 cup water
3 - 4 strips of lemon zest
1/2 cup whipping cream

Bring the cherries, half the wine, cinnamon, cloves, sugar, lemon zest, and water to a boil, and allow to simmer gently for about 10 minutes. Add the slurry of flour and water, and stir through, heating until the soup just starts to boil a little (this will thicken the texture slightly). Add the rest of the wine, bring back to a gentle simmer, and let cook over a gentle heat for another 20 minutes.

Remove the spices and lemon zest, and allow the soup to cool before refrigerating. You can force-cool it by adding an ice pack (sealed in a bag) straight into the soup. This works even faster along with a cold water bath, and moving the soup out of the cooking pot to a large bowl or soups tureen.

Once the soup is cool enough, refrigerate until quite cold.

Stir in the cream, and serve. If you like, you can also add a splash of brandy or sherry before serving. In the picture above, I've sprinkled the soup with cinnamon, but frankly, it doesn't need it.

I'm told by a Romanian-born co-worker that a similar soup is also made using tart apples. I can only imagine how good that must be - in fact, I may need to try it. I think I would use Granny Smiths and a crisp white wine with floral notes, which would make it a little bit similar to a pork tenderloin dish from Normandy.

* A brief note about the wine: You don't want a tannic Shiraz here, or a jammy Merlot. Go for brighter wines, such as a nice Zinfandel (such as Cline or Ravenswood), a Chianti, Barbera d'Alba, or Carmenere. You don't need a fancy wine, but you want one that you will enjoy, because the flavour comes through quite strongly.

Caldo Verde

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we're used to equating Spring with rain. We're not so used to it being so ridiculously cold, however. So, maybe soup is just the thing, to warm us up and tide us over until the nicer weather finally arrives.

Caldo Verde is the quintessential Portuguese soup, and considered by some to be the national dish of Portugal. Potatoes, onions and kale provide a hearty base, and often a touch of pork (in the form of sausage, sliced on the side or diced in the soup pot) to add a little extra something on those days when the soup is the whole of the meal. Add a nice chunk of bread (or, in these parts, a grilled cheese sandwich), and you've got a peasant meal that's fit for a king.

There's a lot of versions and variations, of course, from the fundamental to the fancy-pants. In its simplest form, it's often served as a starter course, both in restaurants and in fancier celebratory meals. It freezes well, although the greens lose their emerald brightness. The flavour is still delicious, though, and you can always add a little more greenery to perk it up again if you like.

Caldo Verde

You can make this creamy-textured, dairy-free soup in advance, right up to just before adding the kale. Simply prepare the kale and hold it in a sealed plastic container in the fridge until you are ready to finish and serve the soup.

Serves: 2 - 4
Total Prep and Cooking time: 60 minutes

1 ½ tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 medium yellow onion, minced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 large potatoes*, peeled and sliced
100 - 200 grams linguica or chouriço, sliced into half-coins
4 cups cold water
1 teaspoon salt
ground black pepper to taste
100 - 150 grams kale, cleaned, stem removed, sliced into chiffonade
Dry sherry, to garnish

In a medium soup-pot, over medium heat, cook sausage slices until the oil is released, but do not allow to dry out). Remove sausage to a plate and reserve. Drain most of the fat from the pot, and the olive oil (obviously, start here for the vegetarian/vegan version). Over medium heat, cook onion and garlic for 3 to 5 minutes. Stir in potatoes and cook, stirring constantly, 3 minutes more. Pour in water, add the salt, bring to a boil and simmer gently for 20 minutes, until potatoes are very soft.

Mash the potatoes in the pot or puree the potato mixture with an immersion blender. Stir the reserved sausage and the pepper into the soup and return to medium heat. Cover and simmer 5 minutes on a medium-low heat. Taste and add more salt if needed. Stir in the kale and gently simmer 5 to 10 minutes more, just until kale is tender. Serve with bread, garnishing individual bowls with a sprinkle of sherry.

A very popular way of finishing this soup is to drizzle extra virgin olive oil into the soup in its last few minutes of cooking (or with the kale). I haven't tried that myself, yet, but I think the next time I make this soup I definitely will give it a try.

*Yukon gold potatoes work very well, as they puree to a very smooth and creamy consistency with an immersion blender.

Tomato Tarragon Bisque

It's definitely soup weather. In fact, not only was my last post also soup, I am also making soup right now. However, the one that is currently on the stove is my trusty ol' Beef Barley Soup, which I have already told you about. I noticed the recipe doesn't contain bay leaves, so I added some, and I'm also using fresh thyme, but otherwise, no change. It looks exactly like the picture through the link.

Today, instead, I'm going to tell you about a soup that I made a few weeks ago, the last of which I pulled from the freezer and defrosted for lunch earlier this week. Tomato Tarragon Bisque.

I've been using tarragon a lot since my sister brought me a seedling. Turns out, the seedling really, really enjoyed the plant food I gave it, and has been growing fairly abundantly. I've had to cut it back just to keep it off the floor. Now, tarragon likes a couple of things in this world, and two of them are cream and mushrooms. So, there've been a few dinners involving sauteed chicken with mushrooms and tarragon cream sauce, and the like, but that's a whole other post.

Since I can't eat creamy things every day (or I will need to buy a larger wardrobe), I started thinking about things that I could make with tarragon that weren't fundamentally based on dairy. I remembered, long ago, a Manhattan-style clam chowder recipe that I made (in an attempt to impress someone, actually) that had tarragon, and I think that was the first time that I had ever used the herb. That recipe (and the relationship) and I parted ways twenty years ago, and I don't really like clams, so that was out. It did lead me to thinking about tomato-based soups, though, and so that is ultimately what I decided to do.

I started with my Simple Tomato Soup recipe (expired link removed, please see recipe in the comments section below), which is a wonderfully all-purpose soup that can be switched up in a lot of ways. Ultimately, I did very little to change it. I added some drained, diced tomatoes (peel them if using fresh) after the puree stage, and about a half-cup of finely chopped tarragon leaves, stirred right in at the end. I didn't add the allspice, because I wasn't making "that" soup.

The brightness of the fresh tarragon and nice, bite-sized chunks of tomato interrupt the smooth, thick texture texture of the soup made it hearty enough that it didn't really need a sandwich on the side (although a chunk of bread didn't go amiss). Overall, a pleasantly light lunch or part (as they say) of a nutritious dinner...

Definitely on the repeat list.

Golden Borscht

Oh. Hi there. I didn't mean to leave you all alone for so long, but time seems to have gotten away from me. Sit down, have some soup.

I love borscht. To me, it is an extremely comforting combination of flavours, even though it wasn't really a staple of my childhood. I have had success with a number of styles and types of borscht, but I confess that my favourite is meatless (although I don't mind some chicken stock) and beautifully magenta with beets. In that vein, I have had excellent luck with the recipe from Diane Forley's The Anatomy of a Dish, which has been previously featured on this blog.

This version, as you can clearly tell, is a little different. Not, however by all that much. I've been toying with the idea of making a golden borscht since eyeing the beautiful golden beets that turn up from time to time in our local farmer's markets, and finally got around to making it. I followed the exact same recipe (including tweaks) as in the link above to the ruby-coloured borscht (although I omitted the potato entirely, as I don't care for its texture in the soup) and subbed out all of the red ingredients for their yellow/white counterparts. So, golden beets for red, white wine for red wine, white wine vinegar for red wine vinegar, and white (well, green technically) cabbage instead of red.

As you can see, it turned out beautifully golden, just as I had hoped. Interestingly, though, once the soup was complete, the beet chunks themselves had lost most of their colour to the surrounding liquid, making for a beautiful gold broth, but leaving the beet pieces a little anemic looking. Still, the flavour was dead on, that tart-sweet combination, and hearty, mouth-filling texture that makes it feel like a substantial meal all by itself (although, with bread is better).

This borscht is very, very strongly flavoured, and very, very tangy. If you like a milder (but still noticeable) tang, I suggest using half the amount of wine and vinegar, and making up the difference with either water or broth.