On Sundays

On Sundays, I make pancakes.

On Sundays, we go to the farmers market.

On Sundays, we go to church.

On Sundays, we watch football.

On Sundays, I eat brunch.

On Sundays, I bake.

On Sundays, I take a little more time with dinner than I usually do.

On Sundays, I make soup.

To make a giant pot of beef stew, you will need:

• Vegetable oil
• 4 pounds stew meat
• 2 T butter
• 5 carrots, chopped
• 2 stalks celery, chopped
• 2 onions, chopped
• salt
• pepper
• leaves from 5 sprigs thyme
• 1/2 C red wine
• 2 baking potatoes, chopped
• 8 C beef stock (or if you forgot you already had some leftover in the fridge, 4 C plus a lot of water)
• 1 C frozen peas

Heat oil in large, heavy bottomed skillet.  Add meat in small batches, browning evenly on all sides.  Remove meat and set aside.

Melt butter in skillet and add carrots, celery, onions, thyme, salt, and pepper, and cook 8-10 minutes, until tender.  Add wine, and scrape everything around until you get all those brown, flavorful bits off the bottom of the pan.  Let wine reduce by about half.

Add stock, potatoes, and meat, and bring pot to a boil.  Reduce heat to simmer, and let stew cook 2 hours, stirring every now and again if you feel like it.

When stew is finished, add frozen peas.  The residual heat from the stew will cook the peas.

Chicken Soup with Rice

In January

it’s so nice

while slipping

on the sliding ice

to sip hot chicken soup

with rice.

Sipping once

sipping twice

sipping chicken soup

with rice.

I borrowed that poem from my old pal Maurice Sendak because I don’t know any truer words.

This week is supposed to get nasty cold.  And the flu has reached epidemic status!  I’m not really one to react about either of those factors.  But give me an excuse to make soup and I’m there.

This soup is so light and gentle.

It’s low-maintenance.

It’s one of those recipes that would make you oh-so-tempted to jazz it up.  A squeeze of lemon? Some turmeric?  Celery, even?

But no.

It’s best the way it is.

Simple.

It’s a beautiful thing.

To make chicken soup with rice for 4, you will need:

• olive oil
• half an onion, minced
• 2 carrots, finely diced
• bay leaf
• a few sprigs fresh thyme, or a few shakes of dried
• 2 quarts chicken broth (Homemade is diviiiiiiine, but don’t let that stop you.  Store bought will always do.)
• 1 C uncooked, long grain rice
• 2 C shredded, cooked chicken

Heat the olive oil in the bottom of a large, heavy-bottomed skillet.  Add onion and carrot, and saute till soft, 5-7 minutes.

Add bay leaf, thyme, and chicken broth, and bring to a boil.

Reduce to a simmer and add rice and chicken.  Let soup bubble, stirring occasionally, till rice is cooked through, about 15-20 minutes.

 

 

Sugar and Spice

Dear Readers, Hey Girl Hey had a baby.

I cried.  I sat on the couch, reading her text messages, and I cried.

Cari Faye taught me that you know a friend is a keeper when you didn’t know you could feel so much happiness for another person.

That’s how I feel about Hey Girl Hey and her new little one.

With any luck, CV(D), AGOMYR, my ex, and I get to go visit this new little one over the weekend.  CV(D) and I spent the latter part of work day brainstorming meals we could deliver.

I mean, cupcakes are my obvious go-to but I’m thinking this woman is going to need some sustenance over the next few weeks/months/years.  Sanding sugar just won’t do.  Thus, I’m racking my brain for freezer-friendly meals.  Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Obviously, macaroni and cheese is at the top of the list.  It’s Wooden Nickels’ classic recipe, and my comfort food of choice, no matter the occasion.

 Lasagna is always a classic, but with Hey Girl, Hey’s Italian background, I’d be too afraid I’m stepping on Grandma Hey Girl Hey’s toes.

I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t want The Pioneer Woman’s enchiladas around on a winter evening.

Unless someone really had a hankering for soup.  In which case, I’d give them the Barefoot Contessa’s chicken chili.  It’s pretty darn healthy, too.

Dear readers, if someone was filling your freezer, what would you want them to bring?

When Salad is What’s For Dinner

Then you have no excuse not to make your own croutons.

Especially when there’s that extra loaf of farmers market bread that the bread guy gave you because he had it and it was so good he wanted you to have it too.

In fact, whether salad is what’s for dinner or not, you can whip up your own croutons in less than 10 minutes whenever there’s day old bread lying around.  Store them in an airtight container, and they can sit for up to a week.  Sprinkle them on soups, salads, and the like.  Or just keep snitching them out of the bowl on the counter where they live.

Homemade croutons are not like the kind from the grocery store, coated in garlic and onion powder.  I love those.  But garlic isn’t supposed to be powdered.  Thus, these are better.  Because they are infused with the flavor of real garlic.  And when you sprinkle sea salt over them.  Well.  Then they’re just about perfect.

To make a batch of croutons, you will need:

• olive oil
• 2 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
• sea salt (kosher would work as well)
• day old bread, cut into 1/2 to 1-inch cubes

First, a note.  Some people believe in cutting the crusts off their bread before setting about to make croutons.  I am not one of those people.  If there is a step in the kitchen that can be eliminated without disastrous results, I’m likely to eliminate it.  The choice, dear readers, is yours.

Set a large skillet on a burner.  Drizzle in enough olive oil to coat the bottom in a thin layer.  Heat olive oil and garlic cloves over medium to low heat, till olive oil starts to bubble around the cloves.  Let simmer this way about 5 minutes.  You’re infusing the oil with the flavor of the garlic.  You can give things a stir if you feel the need to be more involved in the infusing process.  Remove the garlic and discard.  Add bread to skillet.  At this point, you want to crank up the heat if it was on low.  Medium should work well here.  Stir the bread around the skillet, turning the cubes so they brown on all sides.  When things look nice and golden, and most of the oil has been absorbed, remove croutons and transfer to an airtight container.  The amount of salt you want to use depends on how many croutons you’re making.  I had about 1 1/2 – 2 C croutons, and I sprinkled a generous teaspoon of sea salt over them.  I sealed them in tight with a lid, and gave things a shake to coat.  If you’re new to recipes that tell you to salt to taste, here’s the part where you take out a crouton or two or three and try them.  Not enough salt?  Add another half teaspoon.  Keep them sealed in that container till you’re ready for dinner.

As I Write This

I don’t know whether I have power.  I don’t know whether Frankenstorm wiped us all out.

Future Jennie?  Can you hear me?  Are you safe?

Future Dear Readers?  Do you have power?  Are you in need of a soup recipe?

I hope you answered yes to both questions.  I hope I answered yes to both questions.

Because if you can get chicken and barley soup on the table tonight, you win.  I’m a total sucker for barley in soup, and this is the best I’ve had.  That should come as no surprise, as it hails from Dinner, a Love Story, which if you’re not reading, and you haven’t bought the book, then Dear Readers, I just don’t know where we stand anymore.  Jenny and Andy write about dinner, and their family’s life, in a way that makes you feel like you could create something special for your own nearest and dearest, too.

And that always starts with dinner.

To make chicken and barley soup to ride out the storm, you will need:

• olive oil
• 1 lb, bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces (white meat, dark meat, or both)
• salt
• pepper
• 1 medium yellow onion, chopped
• 1 C carrots, peeled and chopped
• 1 C celery, chopped
• 1/2 C red bell pepper, chopped
• 1/2 tsp. red pepper flakes
• 1 bay leaf
• 4 sprigs thyme
• 4 C chicken stock (veggie if that’s how you roll)
• 1/2 C uncooked barley

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Pat chicken dry with paper towel, and sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper.  Cook on baking sheet 30 minutes.  Set aside to cool.

Heat a few tablespoons olive oil in skillet.  Add onions, carrots, celery, and bell pepper.  Saute till veggies are soft, 10-12 minutes.  Add stock, bay leaf, and thyme, and bring to boil.  Reduce heat to simmer, add barley and let things hang out for 25 minutes.

While you’re hanging around, peel the skin off the chicken, and use two forks to shred the meat.

Add chicken to soup, and let the flavors come together for another few minutes.  Serve with a huge slice of crusty bread.

Because Mondays Are Hard

I don’t remember which Joy the Baker Podcast pointed this out to me, but folks, Mondays are hard.  Joy’s cure is The Bachelor.  Tonight, mine was soup.

Monday was a coldy, rainy day.  And a terrible hair day.  And an I-didn’t-get-enough-sleep-last-night day.  And an eat my feelings day.

But Monday evening was oh-so-much better.  I got home, and got slicing and dicing.  And in a bit of time, I had this fresh, springy, and steamy bowl of soup in front of me.  With tiny stelline pasta, fresh peas, barely cooked vegetables and a cute little garnish.  Where winter stews are chunky and hearty, this one is dainty and cute.  It’s warm and comforting, but with a squeeze of lemon on top, it’s plenty bright too.  Let it turn your day around.

To make a big bowl, you will need:

• 1 1/2 oz. sliced prosciutto, torn in pieces
• 2 T butter
• 2 T olive oil
• 1 medium onion, roughly chopped
• 1 clove garlic, peeled
• 12 basil leaves
• 2 qt. chicken stock, low sodium
• 1/2 C stelline, or other small pasta
• 1 C fresh peas (or frozen if you have them)
• 1/2 C finely diced carrot
• 1/2 C finely diced celery
• Kosher salt
• Black pepper
• Lemon slices
• Grated Parmesan cheese

In a food processor, blend prosciutto, butter, oil, onion, garlic, and basil until pieces are miniscule, stopping to scrape down sides as necessary.  Pat yourself on the back because you just made a battuto.  Transfer to bottom of large saucepan and cook over medium heat until onions are soft, and everything is just a little mushy, about 8 minutes.  Add chicken broth and bring to boil. Add pasta and cook for 5 minutes.  Add carrots, celery and peas, and cook for 5 minutes more.  Taste for salt and pepper and add as you see fit.  Serve immediately.  Top each bowl with a squeeze of lemon juice and grated Parmesan.

Finding Recipes

When deciding what to make for dinner, one has a wealth of places to go looking.  Cookbooks are a great start.  I can’t wait to get my hands on this one, the winner of Food 52′s Piglet cookbook showdown, and this one, which I’ve been anticipating for quite some time.  Don’t even get me started on this one.  It may be the very first cookbook I cook from beginning to end.  If you peruse your cookbook collection to no avail, you can turn to magazines, like Cook’s Illustrated or Fine Cooking.  And if that fails, there are 8 billion food blogs out there to satisfy your every need.

But just in case you’ve exhausted all those options, and you’re still sans dinner ideas, there’s one other source that’s never let me down.

The Williams Sonoma catalog.

It’s the one catalog that I always look through.  The one that can’t go to the recycling bin until I’ve had my way with it, which usually means I’ve torn out half the pages.

I don’t know who they have in their kitchens, but those people are good.

I’ve noticed broccoli cheese soup on a lot of blogs lately, but I was wary of making it.  I didn’t want to eat anything that would feel too heavy, or taste too much like something you would order at Applebee’s.

And then, I noticed a recipe for broccoli-cheddar soup in the latest WS catalog. They were using it to hawk this Cuisinart Soup Maker and Blender, but you don’t need one to make soup.  You can use a regular blender or hand blender.

I knew if there was a broccoli cheese soup worthy of our weeknight rotation, this would be it.

And it really and truly was.  It’s packed with cheddar flavor, but doesn’t feel too heavy.  There’s a little hint of heat in each spoonful, so the flavor isn’t one-dimensional.  Plus you can serve it with just about anything.  Chicken, noodles, a crusty loaf of bread, beer, or a glass of chardonnay.

To make soup for 4, you will need:

• 2 T olive oil
• 1 garlic clove, finely chopped
• Kosher salt
• 1 lb. broccoli, cut into 1 inch florets
• 3 C chicken stock (I ended up using a bit more, and of course, you can use vegetable stock if you’re so inclined)
• freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 C spinach leaves
• 1 T light beer (I had white wine open, so used that instead)
• 4 oz. extra sharp white cheddar cheese, grated
• 2 pinches cayenne
• finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese for garnish

In a heavy bottomed pot or Dutch oven, warm oil over medium heat.  Add onion, garlic, and a few pinches of salt.  Cook, stirring occasionally, until aromatic and tender, 8-10 minutes.

Increase heat to high, add broccoli, stock (I added enough stock to cover the broccoli completely, probably about 3 1/2 C), a few pinches of salt and black pepper; bring to a simmer.  Cover and cook broccoli over medium heat, about 10 minutes, or until broccoli is tender.  Remove from heat.  Transfer soup mixture and spinach to blender and blend till smooth.  When you’re blending hot liquids, you want to fill your blender halfway at the most, so you may have to do this a couple of times.

Transfer the soup back to the pan, and add cheddar and cayenne, stirring till cheese is melted.  Serve with grated Parmesan on top.

Sometimes, You Just Know

I swore I would never be the girl who couldn’t live without her smartphone, but late Tuesday evening, while strolling the aisles of Whole Foods, she was me.  I knew that meatball week meant Ina’s Italian Wedding Soup was on the menu, but I didn’t have the list of ingredients for the recipe with me.  iPhone to the rescue.  I pulled up the recipe, threw everything in my cart, and saved myself from yet another weeknight trip to the grocery store.

Which means I never opened the cookbook with the recipe until the night I made the soup.  I jot notes in the margins of all my cookbooks, and the first time I made this dish (February 3, 2009), I wrote the following, “Would be perfect if you’re sick.”

What do you know?  The night I made this, I was sick with a rotten cold that left me chugging orange juice as if my life depended on it.  Sometimes, you just know that the dish you make is going to turn out exactly the way you needed it to.

With all that green, it’s not too bad for you either.

I’ve made this soup several times, and like almost all of Ina’s dishes, there are plenty of substitutes you can make here.  I’m not the biggest fan of sausage, unless it’s top notch.  If you don’t have something great at your disposal, only use ground chicken.  No Romano cheese?  Up the Parmesan.  And any grain you can name will work just fine in this soup.  Small pasta, rice, bown rice, Israeli couscous, you name it.  Sick of adding spinach to everything you make?  Shake this up with some kale instead.  Personalize this however you see fit.

To make Ina’s Italian Wedding Soup for 8, you will need:

• 3/4 pound ground chicken
• 1/2 pound chicken sausage, casings removed
• 2/3 C bread crumbs (I use Italian seasoned)
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 T chopped fresh parsley
• 1/4 C grated Pecorino Romano cheese
• 1/4 C grated Parmesan cheese
• 3 T milk
• 1 extra large egg, lightly beaten
• Kosher salt
• pepper
• 2 T olive oil
• 1 onion, chopped
• 3 carrots, chopped
• 2 stalks celery, chopped
• 10 C chicken stock
• 1/2 C dry white wine
• 1 C small pasta (but rice would work too)
• 12 oz. baby spinach leaves

To make the meatballs, preheat the oven to 350 degrees, and line a baking sheet with parchment.  Mix first 9 ingredients, plus 1 tsp. salt, and 1/2 tsp. pepper in a bowl with your hands.  Form small (1 inch) meatballs and place them on baking sheet.  Bake for 20-30 minutes, until cooked through and lightly browned.  Set aside.

Meanwhile, heat oil in bottom of large stock pot.  Saute onion, carrots, and celery and saute until softened, 5-6 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Add wine to deglaze the pan, and chicken stock.  Bring to boil.  Add pasta and cook 5-6 minutes (if you use rice, you’ll need to cook it longer).  Add meatballs to soup and cook 1 minute.  Add spinach and cook one more minute till wilted.  Serve hot in large bowls.

 

Currently

Sitting on my couch, donning sweats and slippers, and watching college football.

Thinking about the next time I’ll be hungry.

It’s likely to be 2012.

Today was our last tailgate of the season.  Due to consistent run ins with poor weather, our plans to dine in style in our favorite College Park parking lot were thwarted several times in September and October.  Thus, our crew went all out for the Terps’ final home game today.  And though our team gave us nothing worth cheering about, the meal we ate afterward more than made up for it.

I had guacamole.

And two kinds of meat.

And chocolate cake.

But before all that could happen, I had to have soup.  Lots and lots of soup.

It’s good for you.

So I ate it all week long.

For lunch and dinner.

That’s how you prepare for a day of complete and total overindulgence.

This particular soup is from The Barefoot Contessa, whom I’ve missed terribly.  I hadn’t seen her show, nor cracked the covers of any of her cookbooks in ages.

Which would explain why I rushed into the soup-making process, forgetting that Ina’s soups always feed you, your family and a dozen or so of your closest friends if you make them as written.

Thank goodness I used my biggest pot.

And thank goodness there’s still a whole container-ful in the freezer.

Winter is coming, and soup is what winter is for.

This soup is not so much a recipe as an idea.  Saute some onions and carrots, add vegetable stock, and throw in whatever you have in the crisper.  I used Ina’s ingredients the first time around, but wouldn’t be afraid of dialing back the broth and adding some canned tomatoes with their liquid, next time.  The noodles could just as easily be swapped for barley or rice.  No matter what you add, you’re going to end up with something satisfying.

The highlight of the whole soup experience, however, was the pistou.  The margins of Barefoot in Paris taught me that pistou is like French pesto (also what I imagine saying “pesto” with a French accent would sound like).  It’s the same basil, garlic, olive oil mixture, but with tomato paste mixed in for good measure.  I thought spooning a dollop on top of each bowl would serve as a mere garnish, but it made such a noticeable difference throughout each slurp.

To make soup for 10, you will need:

*A head’s up that this is one of those recipes in which it is extremely useful to have ingredients chopped in advance.  But don’t feel like you have to.  I rarely do.

• 2 T olive oil
• 2 onions, chopped
• 2 chopped leeks, white and light green parts
• 1 pound potatoes, 1/2 inch diced (don’t bother peeling them, you’re making rustic food at its best)
• 1 pound carrots, 1/2 inch diced (again with the peeling, just wash them)
• 1 T Kosher salt
• 1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
• 3 quarts vegetable stock (sure, use chicken stock)
• 1 tsp. saffron threads (but only if your friend brought you some from her trip to Spain, otherwise it’s too expensive)
• 1/2 pound haricots verts, ends removed and cut in half (or straight out of the Trader Joe’s freezer bag)
• 4 oz. spaghetti, broken in small pieces

To make 1 C Pistou, you will need:

• 4 cloves garlic, peeled
• 1/4 C tomato paste
• 24 large basil leaves (or thereabouts)
• 1/2 C Parmesan cheese
• 1/2 C olive oil

Heat the olive oil in a large stockpot (mine was probably an 8 quart-er), add the onions, and saute over low heat until onions start to brown.  Slow and steady wins the (flavor) race here.  Add leeks, potatoes, carrots, salt, and pepper, and saute over medium heat 5 more minutes.  Add stock and saffron, bring soup to a boil, and simmer, uncovered for 30 minutes.

While that’s going on, make pistou by combining all ingredients in a food processor, and setting aside.  The tomato paste didn’t glide through my mini food processor, making my pistou thicker.  I loved it that way, because I could see the bits of basil throughout the soup after I stirred it in.  Back to the soup.

Add haricots verts (unless you’re using frozen, and then add them 5 minutes before your soup is done) and spaghetti, bring to a simmer, and cook 10 more minutes.

When ready to serve, add a heaping tablespoon of pistou to each bowl.  Grate Parmesan on top if you so choose.

p.s….It’s almost embarrassing to tell you how much I love opening a new tube of tomato paste.  But I really do get a little thrill from breaking the foil seal.

A Tale of Two Soups

My love of the Barefoot Contessa is never-ending.  I know there are haters out there.  My husband is among them.  He doesn’t go for the stuffy, East Hampton goddess thing (Also–can someone tell me why one is East Hampton and one is Southampton?  Two words and one word and 15 miles apart?).   Sure, she name drops.  Sure, she has some quirky lines that she recites multiple times per episode.  Sure, she has a relationship with her husband that resembles puppy love.  But I find it all endearing.  And there is no denying that the woman can cook.

I have found so many of her recipes to be the definitive ______.  For example, she makes the lemon bar of all lemon bars.  She makes the chicken chili that puts other chilis to shame.  And don’t get me started on the fresh corn salad or curried couscous.  One bite into so many of Ina’s dishes, and you know you can throw whatever other recipes you’ve been waiting to try away.  So i should have known.

I should have known not to mess with her chowder.  I absolutely love Ina’s cheddar corn chowder, and if it wasn’t so deadly for my waistline (and arteries), I’d eat it once a week.  But no, that wasn’t enough for me.  Having resolved to pull out more of my cookbooks when planning my weekly meals, I found another recipe for a similar chowder in a cookbook from which many success stories have already been eaten.

And though the difference in chowders may not be that visible,

the difference in taste was immense.  This one was good, but nothing compared to Ms. Garten.  We choked it down though.  It was topped with bacon, after all.