Christmas Eve: Potato Soup

It's Christmas Eve in DC. On Christmas Eve, we don't use cookbooks. No, we fly by tradition, and tradition means Potato Soup.

My Family's Potato Soup

Take your sauce pan or soup pot, and put it on the stove. Cut up a package of bacon and frizzle up the pieces in the pot. Cook until just this side of crispy (unless Kelly is going to be at dinner, in which case, cook until well and truly dead on the crispy side, and then you'd best be cooking more than one package, too), and remove to a plate lined with paper towels. Drain off fat. Remember that Dad had a crock of bacon fat in the fridge, and wish you had one, too. Remember that you only ever cook with bacon fat when you are also cooking bacon, so you don't need to store bacon fat up for other purposes. Get on with cooking.

Peel one potato per person coming to supper. Cut into a chunky rough dice -- these do not need to be perfect cubes, but they should be roughly all the same size so they'll cook evenly. Drop your chunks into the pot you just cooked bacon in. (You didn't wash it out, did you? You want the brown crusty bits for flavor.) Chop up one onion, fine, and add it to the pot. Cover potatoes with water -- just cover, no more -- and turn on the heat. Bring it to a boil, then drop to a simmer, and simmer for 20 minutes. At 20 minutes, you should be able to slide a knife point easily into and out of the potato chunks. Open a can of evaporated milk, and pour it into the soup. Stir and leave on the stove just long enough to warm up the milk. Crumble in the bacon, and stir.

Serve up in bowls. and remember the bowls that it should be served in (they have roses on them), and garnish with a pat of butter and a good hefty sprinkling of seasoned salt (Lawry's is the family tradition). Buttered saltine crackers may be served on the side.

So, that's the soup. It's from Dad's side of the family -- I know Grandma made it (that's her in the picture, on the right), but I don't know if her mom made it. Dad's first time trying to make it went...adventurously, as he used condensed milk instead of evaporated. Sweetened condensed milk. It was vile. Momma makes it (she's on the left of the picture), I make it, Kelly makes it (she's the cutie with the doll in the middle). We've the sense and family knowledge to know that sweetened condensed milk is no the way to go.

Anyway, we make potato soup. It's what we do.

You might be surprised that we don't cook up that onion in the bacon fat. You can do it. Heck, sometimes? I do. But never on Christmas Eve. The milder, less caramelized flavors taste like family Christmas. When Momma or Kelly makes it, there's often no onion, or one pot done with no onion. Aunt Linda abhors onion. She has many fine qualities, but can't eat onions.

We also don't add salt during the cooking, mostly because there's a shit ton of salt in the bacon, and we add salt when serving. If you can't bring yourself to use seasoned salt, or can't imagine not correcting seasoning on the stove, add salt your way, and garnish with paprika for the lovely color.

I do try to be truthful here on Take One Cookbook... traditionally? We garnish with margarine and we spread margarine on the crackers. I don't stock margarine in my house, though, and I'm here to tell you: BUTTER TASTES BETTER. Not just in general, but specifically in this soup, butter is better.

If you want a smoother texture to your soup, do not be tempted to cook the potatoes until they fall apart into a mush. When they fall apart like that, they're "blown away" and not in a good way. It will taste like paste, and it will be grainy and gross. If you want smooth, get out a blender, and purée some of the soup, adding it back in to the whole.

One can of (evaporated) milk will get you easily through 4 people/potatoes. If you have more people coming to table, I would suggest adding an extra can if you have more folks:

1 can = 1-4 servings
2 cans = 5-8 servings
3 cans = 9-12 servings (you need more bacon at this point, too)

So, that's Christmas Eve in our family. Christmas Day doesn't have set rules/tradition for meals, but Christmas Eve is set in stone. It's in our blood.

A bowl of potato soup is Christmas Eve.

Why, Yes, We Are From North Dakota: Knephla Soup

One thing you should know: I come from North Dakotan, German-by-way-of-Russia folk. My family left the Alsace, moved to Russia, and then left Russia for the wilds of the North American Midwest. (Well, the part of the family that didn't come over from Iceland at about the same time. Or Ireland fifty or so years before that. Or, you know, England, pre-Revolution -- yes, I could join the D.A.R.) Anyway, the Germany/North Dakota connection shines through in a lot of the Spratt/Bachman & Mellberg/McKenzie Family Cookbook 2008 recipes. Take the North Dakotan soup:

Knephla Soup
Anthony Bachman

4 qts water
1/4 cup + 1 T. chicken bouillon
5 med. Potatoes
1 c. dice Carrots
1 c. diced ham
1 small onion
2 bay leaves
Simmer until potatoes and carrots are soft

Knephla

2 c. flour
1 egg
1 t. salt
1 t. baking powder
1/4 c. milk or enough to make a soft dough

Mix knephla dough together with a fork and add enough milk to make a soft dough. Roll into a quarter inch rope and snip off with kitchen shears or knife. Drop into soup and cook for 10 to 15 minutes.

Aaaah, farm food! Hearty, cheap, easy to make in large quantities. I'd eschew the bouillon, and just use 4 quarts of good chicken stock. I'm torn between calling the knephla (spelled elsewhere as knoephla) "dumplings" or "spaetzle" or "gnocchi," but whatever you call 'em, they're going to be tasty little blobs of carby goodness, and I'd wager they'd make you feel better when you're recovering from a cold.

Knephla seems to come from the German word "knopf," which means button, or knob. So, wee knobby buttons, in your soup -- an interesting image. Though some recipes call for adding milk or cream to the broth, you're going to get some creaminess from the knephla themselves -- the flour will thicken the surrounding broth somewhat. I'm tempted to throw in a hearty knob of butter to enrich the soup, myself, and if I did feel a need for more dairy, I'd go to the Irish side of my family, and open a can of evaporate milk to pour in -- it's a staple for our family's potato soup.

The Germans from Russia Heritage Collection in Fargo, N.D., has a great foodways section with links to cookbooks for sale, recipes, and articles on food culture in the German-by-way-of-Russia community. Check it out, especially if you want to see other ways to make knoephla/knephla.

Calling All Popeyes: Two Spinach Recipes

A dear reader asked for a spinach recipe from Eat This...It'll Make You Feel Better! -- I couldn't decide between two such recipes, so will post both.

Mamma's Spinach and Potatoes in Broth

I don't know why it took me a long time to appreciate this terrific dish of my mother's. Spinach never had it so good!

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup chicken broth
1 cup water
4 medium potatoes, peeled, quartered, and parboiled
2 pounds spinach, well washed

Place oil in a large saucepan and gently brown garlic. To the pot add chicken broth, water, and the potatoes. Add spinach. Cover and cook 15 minutes. You'll notice spinach has collaped to almost nothing.

This is a soupy mixture but the garlic, potatoes, and spinach mingle together and you won't want to leave a drop of this behind. Just have plenty of hot Italian bread around so you can get it all.

Serves 4.

This sounds a lot like the caldo I devoured all along the pilgrim trail to Santiago last August. Mmmm, potatoes and greens and broth! Simple, hearty, tasty. I also like that it's 4 potatoes for 4 people; our family's potato soup is measured that way - one potato per person. I'm sure if you wanted to scale up this recipe for more people, it'd be a spud a body.

But, let's say you're not in the mood for a soup, brothy, soppy wonder. (It could happen.) What else can Dom DeLuise's mamma suggest to use up that spinach?

Mamma's Spinach Rolls

When anybody is working with flour and dough, it's always fascinating to children. I remember when I was a little kid, with my nose just above the counter, I used to love to watch my mother lovingly roll out the dough. Then Mamma would let me climb on a chair so I could roll out y own. I remember how proud and excited I was when my spinach roll came out of the oven. I recently taught my seventeen-year-old son, Michael, how to make this, and I guess he wasn't too old to get into this terrific dish because he ate the whole thing for dinner!

Pizza Dough (page 207)
1 pound fresh spinach, washed, drained, and coarsely chopped
1 small onion, chopped
grated cheese
pinch of red pepper
olive oil
1 egg, beaten

Roll out pizza dough into a thin rectangle and place on greased cookie sheet. Spread chopped spinach evenly over dough. Sprinkle with chopped onion, cheese and pepper. Drizzle olive oil over, then gently roll dough jellyroll fashion, making sure the seam is on the bottom. Shape into a crescent.

Using a fork, poke 8-10 holes in the dough so it can "breathe," and brush roll with beaten egg. Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes. Slice and serve hot or cold as an appetizer, or with a salad, for a delicious, healthful light meal.

Serves 4-6.

Variation: Substitute 2 cups chopped broccoli and 1 cup of shredded mozzarella for spinach.

...oh, yes. It's not noodles, but... oh, YES. Bread, cheese, spinach? What's not to love?

I never quite got the whole "kids hate spinach" trope. I've loved spinach since I was a baby. I love it fresh. I love it cooked. I love it after it's been frozen. I even love it after it's been canned. Spinach, spinach, spinach! Also, "bacon, bacon, bacon!" Even better, "spinach and bacon, spinach and bacon, spinach and bacon!" In fact, I wouldn't turn up my nose at adding crumbled bacon into this spinach roll (though it de-vegetarianizes the dish).

If anyone needs a pizza dough recipe, I can post the one from Eat This...It'll Make You Feel Better! -- or you can use frozen (and defrosted) pizza dough from the market. Better than that, though, at just one step down from making your own -- see if the local pizza place will sell you some fresh dough.

Like DeLuise, I have fond memories of dough-making endeavors with my family. My dad would let me help knead bread and pizza dough, by making monster faces and then pounding them away. He'd wash the kitchen floor, and then I'd use the floor as my work surface, covered in flour. Good times.

Leftover Mashed Potatoes? Potato Doughnuts

When I visit family in Portland, I make a point to go to Voodoo Doughnut for the best decadent doughnuts around. Before being converted to the fancy pants modern doughnuts, though, I was a Muno's girl. Their cake donuts, cooked in lard, are amazing. Old fashioned. Crispy. Soft. Delicious.

I have to think that this recipe, from The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book, would produce a more Muno's-esque doughnut than Voodoo-esque -- just right for dunking in a cup of coffee, or a glass of milk.

Potato Doughnuts.

One pint mashed potatoes. While hot add 1 tablespoon of butter, 2 cups of sugar. When cool add 3 eggs, unbeaten, one at a time, 1 teaspoon salt, nutmeg, 1 teacup sweet milk, 6 even teaspoons baking powder. Roll smoothly, cut and turn all the time. This recipe makes 6 dozen. The potatoes keep them moist.

Mrs. D. A. Shindler.

I can not imagine I'd ever have leftover mashed potatoes; to make this, I'd say you have to make the potatoes special. Or, if you have more self-control when it comes to hot buttery carb-laden side dishes, just cook extra taters at dinner time, and use the leftovers in the morning.

You know... on one of those mornings when you have a need for six dozen doughnuts.

There's no hint as to how to fry up your doughnuts, other than "turn all the time." Find another doughnut recipe, get out your deep fat fryer, and follow their suggestions. Don't overcrowd the fryer; do it in batches, folks.

Serve with coffee. Serve with milk. Serve with hot cocoa (yes, I'm still singing "Earthen Vessels" to myself, and thinking of doughnuts at the same time as that song has me firmly back in the basement of Ascension, having doughnuts and cocoa after church).

Foundation In Fact, and Sweet Potato Pone

I've just finished up a plate of leftover Mulatto Rice, which tastes great, cold, right from the fridge. So far, out of The Savannah Cook Book, we've had a punch, a stew, a meat dish, and a side dish (though Mulatto Rice could stand as a main course). Must be time for a vegetable dish or two.

A newcomer to our shores is often a little surprised at the names to which some of our old vegetables answer. For instance, when we say "Guinea squash," egg plant makes its appearance, and squashes are apt to be listed at "Cimlins." When we say artichokes, we mean, of course, the Jerusalem variety -- unless it be a party -- then we have "Burr artichokes," meaning the other and more stylish branch of the family, though I have never seen that name in any of the cook books. The colored people are apt to call butter beans "see-wee" or "civvy" beans, but this seems to have a foundation in fact, since the dictionary opines that a lima bean (which is a large variety of our butter bean) is also known as the Siveau or Civet Bean.

Aaaah, Ms. Colquitt! We share a love of language, it seems. (Some might say we both also take too much pleasure in the describing "naive" and "quaint" lives and thoughts of our subjects.) I wonder if eggplant (now one word) is still called Guinea squash in regular use; any readers have it in their normal lexicon? I also wonder if Georgians today would still consider a sunchoke the default when hearing "artichoke."

The "foundation in fact" bit gets me all cranky again -- seems I can dish out the superior cultured tone, but rankle at the same in the text. Something to work on another day. Back to the fun stuff.

There's a large collection of potato and sweet potato recipes in The Savannah Cook Book. You have to be careful and read closely, though, because there are several sweet potato recipes that are really sweet recipes using potatoes.

Sweet Potato Pone

1 quart grated potato
3/4 pound butter
3/4 pound sugar
1/2 pint milk
1 tablespoon powdered ginger
grated peel of one sweet orange

Rub ingredients well together and bake in a shallow plate in a slow over. A little molasses may be added.

In the northern part of the state, where the frost sweetens the persimmons in the fall, a delicious touch is given the potato pone by adding a cup or more of persimmons before cooking.

I've never used white potatoes in a sweet dish, and I'll admit, it intrigues me. Another recipe in the book calls for wrapping marshmallows in mashed potatoes, rolling the resulting balls in coconut ("cocoanut," if you want to be book-accurate), and then baking them to get Sweet Potato Snow Balls. I'm entranced!

Fair warning: the part of me that thinks that mashed potatoes, marshmallows, and coconut all together sounds like a good idea is the same part of me that will be bringing you gelatin salads of all varieties.