Carrot Ginger Orange Soup

This is pulled from my personal recipe box, posted at the request of @SusanEsparza.

Carrot Ginger Orange Soup
Ingredients

small amount of olive oil
2 shallots, minced (use 2 small mild onions if you can't find shallots)
1 Tablespoon freshly grated ginger
grated rind of one large orange
6 cups chicken stock
12 large carrots, peeled and chopped into uniform chunks
juice of one large orange
sour cream for garnish (optional)

In a soup pot, heat oil over high heat. When warm, sautee shallots till opaque -- 3 to 4 minutes. Add ginger and orange rind, stirring until fragrant -- shouldnt' take long, no more than one minue. Add stock and carrots. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to high simmer/low boil. Cook until carrots are extremely tender -- 30-45 minutes longer; you should be able to mush a carrot chunk against the side of the pot with a wooden spoon. Cool on the stove for half an hour. Stir in fresh orange juice. Puree in batches in a blender or food processor (remember: if its still hot, you'll be dealing with steam...open the little hatch in your blender top!). Store in fridge. Reheat on stove top before serving. Garnish with sour cream if you want. Haven't tried it, but I think a swirl of pesto through it would be delicious, too.

This is tasty all the time, but is particularly lovely on a rainy night, when you want to feel warm.

You can use vegetable stock if you are anti-fowl.

The Original Potato Soup; Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho, Compiled by the Caldwell Jay-C-Ettes

I'm a sentimental sort, so you can imagine what happened when I ran across my grandma's name in
Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho compiled by the Caldwell Jay-C-Ettes (Bev Ron Publishing Company, Kansas City; 1974). I got all choked up, and then saw that her name was right next to "Potato Soup." Potato soup! Our Christmas Eve tradition, right from Grandma's own recipe! What is a sentimental blogger to do? I ask you? That's right. Post it, and compare.

Potato Soup
Rowena Green, Portland, Oregon

6 large potatoes, diced
1 onion, diced
1 (12 oz.) can condensed milk
8 strips bacon, diced
1 tsp. salt
Dash pepper
Savory salt

Boil potatoes and onion with salt until tender. Fry bacon until crisp. Drain water from potatoes; add milk and bacon. Add pepper and savory salt to taste. Heat until warm, stirring often.

Let's start off with the important bit: Dad's first soup catastrophe? So not his fault! The recipe says "condensed milk"! Ladies and gentlemen, do not use (sweetened) condensed milk. Use evaporated milk. And, Daddy, no more shame.

When you drain off the water, you don't need to drain off ALL the water -- you have 6 potatoes, and need more than 2 oz. of milk for each spud's share of soup. I'm known to not drain off any water. There. I said it. For "savory salt," try Lawry's seasoned salt. If you refuse to do so, try a seasoned salt from Penzeys, or a lovely sprinkle of paprika. I really do suggest you cook your bacon first, and then cook the soup in the pan you made the bacon in. First off, that means you'll only have one pan to wash, and second off, it means you get more bacony goodness infusing your soup.

You might wonder how Grandma -- an Oregonian through and through -- had a recipe end up in a Caldwell, Idaho cookbook. Turning to the club officers page of the cookbook, we find that the State Director of the Jay-C-Ettes for 1974-75 was none other than Robbianne Busse, my aunt. I wonder how Aunt Robbi makes her soup.

Cooking the Books: Tomato & Buttermilk Soup and Hard Cooked Eggs

I don't know what's got me on a buttermilk kick lately, but a kick I am on. It's also hotter than heck in DC right now. So, I decided it was time to try Tomato & Buttermilk Soup. Last night, I pulled out two Mason jars. I poured buttermilk in one, up about 1/3 of the way. Then, I topped the jar off with tomato juice. I screwed the cap on, gave it a shake, and put it in the fridge. I remembered it this morning while leaving work -- small miracle, that -- and popped it in the work fridge until lunch.

It was cold. It was delicious. I didn't add salt -- the tomato juice is plenty salty -- or pepper or any such thing. That being said, I can see a couple dashes of Tabasco working nicely here, or a sprinkle of dill, or fennel fronds, or grated cuke, or... really, whatever you have handy that is tomato-friendly.

I drank my soup right out of the jar. I shall do so again tomorrow. It doesn't look like much in this picture here -- if you want a more-vivid color, then use more tomato juice, or try some paprika (ooo, paprika would be good in here...).

The only lunch prep I did for this week that required a stove was boiling up a bunch of hard cooked eggs. Followed the recipe (with mother in law alteration) and once again, ended up with perfect, perfect eggs.

As to the second jar I mentioned up there in the first paragraph, I filled it 1/3 of the way with steel cut oats, and then poured in buttermilk until the jar was 1/3 full. Screwed on the cap. Set it in the fridge overnight. Opened it this morning to fill the jar the rest of the way with fresh blueberries (frozen fruit works, too), and took it off to work where it made one heck of a hearty breakfast. Texture: like Grape-Nuts. And we all know how much I like Grape-Nuts.

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.

A Forest of Greens In Every Yard: Caldo Gallego

Nearly every bar, restaurant, hotel, inn, and whatnot along the pilgrim trail to Santiago serves up a Menu Peregrino, a Pilgrim Meal. It's cheap as chips, three courses, and includes bread and wine. Lots of wine. Usually bottles of wine. Oh, the wine! Anyway. At nearly every place we stopped, I was offered and I greedily accepted a hot bowl of Caldo Gallego. Brothy, with greens and potatoes, and often nothing else that was identifiable, it still stood up to a tired pilgrim's appetite, especially when said pilgrim dunked in some bread. Delicioso! The Regional Cooking of Spain offers up this version:

Caldo Gallego
(Galician Meat, Potato, Greens, and Bean Soup)

Start preparation 1 day in advance
There is remarkably little variation from one cook to the next in the preparation of Caldo Gallego, the famous soup that has traveled the world with Galician émigrés. Only one ingredient, chorizo, is a point of contention. Purists reject it, yet many traditional recipes include it; it does, in fact, produce a richer, more flavorful soup. The kinds of greens may also vary, although grelos—closely akin to collard greens—are most typical. Caldo Gallego is hearty enough to be a meal, but you may choose to serve it in smaller portions as a first course or as an accompaniment to a light supper.

Serves 4-6

½ pound medium dried white beans
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon imported sweet paprika
7 cups water
1 pound boneless beef chuck
1 beef or ham bone
¼ pound Spanish mountain cured ham, prosciutto, or capicollo, in a thick chunk
A 2-ounce piece slab bacon or salt pork
1 leek, well washed
½ pound collard greens, Swiss chard, or kale, thick stems trimmed and coarsely chopped (about 4 cups)
¾ pound small (about 2-inch diameter) new or waxy red potatoes, peeled
¼ pound sweet chorizo
Salt

Soak the beans overnight in water to cover. Drain.

In a small skillet, heat the oil and garlic and sauté a minute (the garlic should not color). Turn off the flame and add the paprika. Stir in a tablespoon or two of water.

Add to a soup pot the water, beans, beef, bone, ham, slab bacon, leek, and garlic mixture from the skillet. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer about 2 hours, or until the beans are almost tender.
Add the greens, potatoes, chorizo, and salt to taste, cover and continue cooking until the potatoes are done, about 30 minutes.

Remove and cut up the beef, ham, bacon, leek, and chorizo and return to the pot. Discard the bone. Cover and let sit 10 minutes before serving. Reheat if necessary.

I don't remember ever seeing potatoes in my caldo, nor often any beans. It's peasant food, and as such lends itself easily to whatever you have on hand. If you have chorizo one day, add it. If not, don't do a run to Whole Foods, just go without.

I wouldn't get too precious about the kind of greens you use, either. Grelos, mentioned above, are turnip greens. You could use 'em, sure. You could use collard greens, or kale, or chard... Use what you have, or the first thing you lay hands on.



Just about every home we passed on the Camino had a yard filled with greens. Big, waist- or chest-high primeval stalks. When it was time to make the caldo, they'd step outside, cut a few leaves off with their kitchen knives, and they were ready to go.

I'd file this away under "deceptively simple." It doesn't sound like much in the writing up, it doesn't look like much in the bowl, but mercy me, it's a damned fine bowl of soup.

The Wine Lover's Cookbook, by Sid Goldstein: Chilled Summer Peach Soup

Time for another family favorite off the cookbook shelves: The Wine Lover's Cookbook: Great Recipes for the Perfect Glass of Wine by Sid Goldstein (Chronicle Books, 1999). What I love about this cookbook is its unabashed love of the grape. Every recipe has a recommended wine pairing, and an alternative (sometimes much more daring) pairing. If I haven't mentioned it enough lately, I love wine. Chefly Husband loves wine. Heck, our dog Puck loves wine (corks; we don't let him drink alcohol--that would be irresponsible). I think this book came into our hands from his parents; in fact, I'm pretty darned sure of it. You can still get it at Amazon, new, or from lots of sellers, used, for really reasonable prices. If you like cooking (I don't assume people coming to a cookbook site do, by the way), and you love wine (which I hope you do), this is a book you need.

It's hotter than all get out in DC today--nothing compared to what it will be like in July and August, but it's just the first of June, and I'm wilting. So, for today's recipe...something cool and refreshing.

Chilled Summer Peach Soup
Recommended Wine: Riesling
Alternative Wine: Gewürztraminer

What more could you ask from a summer soup than for it to be refreshing and require virtually not time on the stove? Despite the fact that soups in general are difficult to match with wine, this luscious peach soup is a tantalizing, appetite-stimulating summer beauty that marries perfectly with the peachy quality in many Rieslings. The flavor match is almost equally good with off-dry (slightly sweet) Gewüztraminer.

6 large, ripe peaches
1 tablespoon honey
1 cup plain yogurt
1/3 cup peach nectar
1/8 cup Riesling
1 tablespoon minced crystallized ginger
1 tablespoon fresh mint
1 tablespoon chopped fresh chives
1/2 teaspoon minced orange zest
1 teaspoon five-spice powder or curry powder (see Note)
Garnish: mint sprigs, plain yogurt, 24 raspberries

Place peaches in boiling water for 2 minutes. Remove and place in an ice-water bath. Gently pull off skin. Halve and pit peaches.

In a food processor or blender, purée peaches, honey, yogurt, nectar, wine, crystallized ginger, mint, chives, orange zest, and five-spice powder.

Refrigerate, covered, for at least 2 hours. Adjust sweetness level, adding a little more yogurt to make sure that the soup is not so sweet that it will overpower the wine. Ladle into soup bowls. Garnish with mint sprigs, a small dollop of yogurt, and 4 raspberries per bowl placed carefully on top of yogurt.

Note: Five-spice powder is a combination of cinnamon, star anise, fennel, cloves, and Szechwan pepper and is found in the Asian grocery sections of most markets.

Serves 6 as an appetizer.

Okay, how psyched am I that I remembered the code for a ü without having to look it up? My HTML coding days may be in the past, but they linger on. My cockiness was short-lived though, as I first typed 1/2 cup Riesling. I swear, I wasn't trying to get you all soused on the soup.

The way Sid writes recipes, well...it's not how I write recipes. He's very, very precise. Downright meticulous. He could have said "purée the ingredients," but instead lists them all out. He doesn't even shorten things--I'd probably shorten "crystallized ginger" to "ginger" in the instructions, as there's no other ginger to be had in the recipe, but we'll stick with Sid. Yes, even with the "4 raspberries per bowl placed carefully on top of yogurt."

Yes, it's fussy.

Yes, it's not necessary.

But, oh, if you put yourself in Sid's hands, and trust in his recipes and instructions, you're going to be in for an amazing time.

Chefly Husband just came out of the den, where yet another closet has been converted to wine storage. I asked him about the provenance of the book, and he says that he stole the book from his parents. A little more prodding got the whole story: he boldly borrowed the book, and then they bought another for themselves, which pretty much meant he didn't have to give it back.

I'm very, very glad of it; this is a helluva book. We'll have fun this week.

Picnic Soup #2: Tomato and Buttermilk Soup

I didn't eat/enjoy/recognize avocados as food until after college (Face masks? Sure. Food, no.). If one of your fellow picnickers shares my old hesitation, you're going to have a hard sell with Cold Avocado Soup. Try this alternative, from Outdoor Dining:

Tomato and Buttermilk Soup

2 cups (16 fl oz/500 ml) tomato juice
1 cup (8 fl oz/250 ml) buttermilk

This simple soup is cool and refreshing; if desired you can add some chopped tomato, cucumber, and fresh herbs. You can also vary the proportion of tomato juice to buttermilk.

Combine the tomato juice and buttermilk.

Serve Tomato and Buttermilk Soup chilled with open sandwiches, which become extra special when you make them with savory butters.

Variation: Combine buttermilk and apricot nectar for a refreshing drink.

Serves 2

Two ingredients! Just two! No cutting, no dicing, no blanching, no skinning, no skimming, no heating... it's simple, alright! Other than a glorious opportunity to stain things tomato red, this is something you could easily make with any kid old enough to stir the sugar and Kool-Aid packet in to the 2 quart pitcher.

Or was that just my childhood?

This soup shares a page with lots of savory butter suggestions. Pink peppercorn butter, which is "particularly good" with roast beef. Anchovy butter, for eggs, watercress, or cucumber. Herb butters. Walnut butter. If you can whir it up in a food processor, Outdoor Dining suggests you make it into a compound butter. I actually agree, and was just exhorting my brother in law in Pittsburgh to use some of his bumper crop of tarragon to make a compound butter. Compound butters (savory or sweet) freeze beautifully, and it's great to be able to cut off a hunk of a seasoned butter to melt on your grilled whatever.

Picnic Soup #1: Cold Avocado Soup

I'm going to go see the Indigo Girls at Wolftrap next week, and have been driving everyone around me a bit crazy by my obsessive menu planning. One thing that has stuck, however, was the idea of a cold soup, transported in a growler I got at a beer pub ages ago. I keep saying "a growler of gazpacho!" It took a while to hit on the gazapcho, though, and Outdoor Dining offers two potential growler-fillers. The first:

Cold Avocado Soup

2 avocados, halved and seeds removed
1 small white onion, chopped
2 cups (16 fl oz/500 ml) chicken stock
1 cup (8 fl oz/250 ml) buttermilk
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 red bell pepper (capsicum), halved
1 teaspoon Tabasco sauce

A rich, cold soup is a lovely start to a summer picnic; it is easy to carry in a large glass jar or vacuum flask.

Scrape the avocado flesh into a food processor or blender. Add the onion and stock and process until smooth.

Pour into a container and stir in the buttermilk and salt and pepper to taste. Put aside until ready to serve.

Put the bell pepper under a broiler (griller) until the skin blackens. Transfer to a paper bag and leave for about 30 minutes. Scrape off the blackened skin. Put the bell pepper into a food processor or blender with the Tabasco and purée. Transfer to a small jar.

To serve, add a dollop of the bell pepper purée to each bowl of avocado soup.

Serves 4

Menu
Cold Avocado Soup
Scallop and Bell Pepper (Capsicum) Salad (page 83)
Cookies

Why is this soup not coming with me to the concert? Frankly, the idea of garnishing on site seems pointlessly fussy. I know, I could just serve the soup sans puree, but...you should see how lovely this soup looks in the picture. Pale green, with a rush of vivid red. It's gorgeous. The soup will have to wait for a time that I'm eating outside...but within steps of the kitchen.

Every single recipe in Outdoor Dining is accompanied by a beautiful full-page photo. André Martin did the food photography, and Donna Hay, the food styling. Together, they make every dish look like something you simply have to try, right this very second. It's worth picking up a copy of the book (used, as it appears to be out of print), as the photos add so much.

I'm heading out of town for a wedding, so will be doubling up today, and when I return.

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.

Hearty Mushroom Barley Soup

Part of the fun of Eat This...It'll Make You Feel Better! is the unabashed starf***ery; Dom DeLuise seemed to know just about everyone in showbiz, and is as downright chatty about the stars as he is his family in this book.

Julann's Fat-Free, Hearty Mushroom Barley Soup

I was the very first guest on the Merv Griffin television show back in 1961. It was at that time that I met Merv's wife, Julann Griffin. We have been good friends ever since. Julann is a very unique woman. She makes her own soap, she has kept bees, she has even been known to make beer in a bathtub! She was the president of the First Women's Bank of California, she plays a mean game of tennis, and she even invented the game "Jeopardy" that Merv produces for television. Julann is a very funny lady, and I have laughed till I cried with her. I've also just cried. She is a fabulous friend, a great cook, and is very concerned with eating healthfully. I have had some of Julann's wonderful, fat-free, hearty soups, and I know you'll love this one as much as I do. (If you'd like this soup a little less "hearty," add more chicken broth and/or tomato juice to your taste.)

1 1/2 cups barley
3 tomatoes, chopped
2 carrots, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
6 cups chicken stock
2 cups tomato juice
4 fresh sweet basil leaves, chopped
1/2 teaspoon oregano
10-15 mushrooms, thinly sliced
pepper to taste
lowfat yogurt

In a soup pot combine barley, tomatoes, carrots, onion, garlic, chicken stock, tomato juice, and herbs. Stir. Bring to a boil. Lower heat, and cover, but not completely -- leave lid slightly askew. Stir occasionally. Let soup simmer 1 hour, then stir in the mushrooms. Add pepper and let simmer 1 more hour. Ladle into hot soup bowls and top each with a spoonful of yogurt.

Serves 8-10.

I cringe to think of adding garlic and onions to a soup without a nice sauté first, but this soup is simmering for a long time, so the sharpness has plenty of a chance to mellow.

And, isn't there just something perfectly autumnal about a thick soup with barley and mushrooms?

DeLuise's gushing description of his friend might make you think she and Merv were still married at press time; they were not, having divorced in 1973. Their son is in entertainment, too -- best credit: Prison Guard, Spaceballs. And, though creating Jeopardy! is pretty cool, how much cooler is it that she also composed the theme song?

This post might be a little scattered; Chefly Husband and I are celebrating our 8th wedding anniversary today, and I'm a bit giddy and unfocused.

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.

Depression Era Recipes, by Patricia R. Wagner: Dumplings

Some books never seem to go out of print. Depression Era Recipes, by Patricia R. Wagner, was first printed in 1989, and was on its eighteenth printing by 2000. Chefly Husband picked up a copy for me at a book sale recently, because he's nearly as much of a cookbook freak as I am. Nearly. And, with all the turmoil in the financial sector these days, and frantic rhetoric, I thought a focus on the Depression suitable for this week. I like this bit from the acknowledgements:

The Depression wasn't all soup lines and poverty. The information related herein is intended to show how people coped with the Depression, their diversions and what life was all about, what they had and how they spent their leisure time. Not all of these recipes have been personally tested by the author. But if they were good enough for Gramma Signe, Aunt Minnie and Mom, they're good enough for us.

So, some of these recipes might just not work. Or they might be a little too 1930s for today's tastes. That's part of the adventure!

On an administrative note, I'm tagging these all as 1930s recipes, even though the book was printed 50 years later. It makes sense to me.

The gingerbread recipe made me miss home, and especially miss a lovely lady who was a family friend for years before she died. She took me to a gingerbread restaurant for my first slabs of cake-like gingerbread, and she also took me to experience my first-ever chicken and dumplings.

Dumplings

2 c. flour
1 t. salt
1 1/2 c. chicken broth, boiling
1/2 c. flour
1-2 qts. chicken broth

Mix together well to make a soft dough. Put the 1/2 c. flour on a bread broad; put dough on top. Let cool enough to handle. Then roll like pie crust. Cut in 1" x 2" strips. Let these dry 15 minutes. Drop into boiling chicken broth and simmer for 15-20 minutes.

Let's fix some of the problems with this recipe. First off, the bread "broad" is clearly supposed to be a bread board. Next, if you try to mix everything together in the first step, you're going to be in a world of hurt. So, mix together, please, the first three ingredients. Then, roll out, using the 1/2 c. remaining flour to coat board, rolling pin, etc., to make easy to handle. Roll and cut as above. Finally, heat the 1 - 2 quarts broth to a boil, and add the dumplings.

So, why dumplings? Well, if you're trying to make a bit of meat stretch a long way, this is a great way to get the flavor of chicken into a less-expensive vehicle. If, say, you needed to keep a laboring man strong for work, he could eat the actual chicken, while the wife and kids had dumplings.

There's no leavening used in these bad boys, which I could go on and on discussing various religious reasons why this might make the recipe ideal for whatever, but here's why I dig the leavening-less nature of the recipe: I never end up with good leavening in the house. If I need soda or powder or yeast, I have to go out to shop. Everything needed for these dumplings, I have in my pantry right now, even though I haven't done maintenance shopping in a few weeks.

If anyone's interested in a Depression-era recipe for chicken broth, let me know; the book has several, most involving carcasses, skin, giblets, and the like. Frugality, folks. It's what's for dinner this week.

The Other Way To Quick 'n' Easy: Can-Opener Minestrone

Leftovers are one way to quick 'n' easy cooking; today's recipe goes another route. Good Housekeeping's Quick 'n' Easy Cook Book (subtitle: time-saver dishes for today's busy woman) puts the secret to quick 'n' easy right in the title of this next dish:

Can-Opener Ministrone *
(Pictured on pages 34 and 35)

1 can condensed vegetable soup, undiluted
1 can condensed chicken-noodle soup, undiluted
1 can water (measure in soup can)
2 1-lb. cans kidney beans (drain 1 can)
1 clove garlic, minced
1/3 cup snipped parsley
Lots of grated Parmesan cheese

Combine vegetable soup, chicken-noodle soup, water, kidney beans, garlic and parsley. Heat until very hot. Ladle into soup bowls; pass bowlful of Parmesan cheese.

Makes 4 servings

* Make 4 or 5 times recipe to fill electric fryer as shown in photo

The electric fryer in question is that Crock-Pot looking beastie in the lower left of the photo.

I'm hoping there's lots and lots of grated cheese. And that no one has high blood pressure issues -- there's a lot of sodium going on here, especially as we're keeping the liquid from one can of beans.

Really, making your own minestrone isn't a hard thing. This would certainly be quick... and easy... but you could use similar short cuts and end up with something that tasted a little less...canned. Try using drained and rinsed beans, frozen mixed veg, boxed stock, and dried noodles. And, you know, fresh herbs. And a tin of tomatoes.

I'll admit it -- I'm a bit of a soup snob. I love a good bowl of homemade soup. I love cooking up a big pot. I love the chopping. I love the simmering. I love how the whole house smells like someone gave a damn.

I will give you this, though: as long as there's a lot of cheese to be passed around, even the can-opener cookery soup will fill you up. The cheese shows someone gives a damn.

Bad Titles Work, Too: Valdez Clam and Onion Soup

Sometimes, recipe choice is all about a good title. Sometimes, though, it's the really bad title that wins the day. My sister told me that if I focused on an Alaskan cookbook, I'd have to post a salmon dish; I knew I needed to post a fish dish of some sort, and went hunting. Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' has plenty of salmon dishes, it's true, but nothing quite to compare with this:

Valdez Clam and Onion Soup

2 cans (7 ozs.) minced clams (1 pint)
4 slices bacon, sliced
3 cups onion rings
3 cups milk
1/2 tsp. celery salt
1/2 tsp. salt
6 slices hard toast
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese (optional)

Fry bacon; add onion and cook until tender. Combine milk, seasonings and clams; heat. Place toast in 6 individual, heated soup bowls. Cover with onion rings and top with clam mixture. Sprinkle with cheese and serve immediately. Serves 6.

Now, Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' was printed 13 years before the Exxon Valdez spilled oil all over the Prince William Sound, but I'm here to tell you, there's no way I can hear "Valdez" and not think "horrible oil spill." Combine "Valdez" with "bivalve shell fish" and I'm going to think it's all a horrible, twisted joke. Who'd want to eat a filter-feeder named after pollution gone wild?

...the recipe itself sounds tasty, though.

edit So, it was pointed out to me that my trying to puzzle out the "what kind of onion rings do they mean" issue was pretty pointless -- use raw, as you're cooking them up in bacon fat. That being said, let's use canned, crispy, fried onion products as a garnish, like you'd put on top of a green bean casserole if you were any of the hordes of community cookbook contributors whose efforts line my shelves./edit

Looks like an easy recipe to cut in half (in some cases, thirds -- take only 2 pieces of hard toast, not 3) to make 2 large meal-sized servings.

Cranberry Soup Peasant Style (Broosnika Soop po Derevensky)

Oh, this little gem from Nothing Beets Borscht is going to be filed away for Thanksgiving dinner, you can bet...

Cranberry Soup Peasant Style
(Broosnika Soop po Derevensky)

This soup is a refreshing, tart -- but not too tart -- hot soup. It needs only 1 tablespoon of sugar, and even that can be omitted, making this one of the few low-calorie Russian dishes.

1 cup raw cranberries
4 cups water
2 medium onions, chopped
2 cups shredded cabbage
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon sugar
Pepper to taste
1/2 cup beet juice and 1 cup canned diced beets, or 1 cup fresh diced beets

Garnish: sour cream (buy an 8-ounce container)

Wash the cranberries, and then put them in a pot with the 4 cups of water. Let the cranberries simmer, uncovered, for about 20 minutes, or until soft. Then take a wooden spoon and mush up the cranberries.

Add the raw, chopped onions and shredded cabbage to the pot. Season with the salt, the sugar, and then pepper to taste. If using fresh beets, add them now. Let simmer, uncovered, for another 20 minutes, or until the beets are just tender enough to be easily pierced by a fork or knife.

The soup can be refrigerated at this point until ready to heat up and serve.

If using canned beets, add them to the pot along with their 1/2 cup of liquid when you are heating the soup up just before serving.

Serve the cranberry soup piping hot with a dollop of sour cream floating in each bowl.

This soup subverts many of my soup-making expectations. First, you don't cook the onion before adding it to the soup. ...wait, really? Yes. You don't. As much as it pains me to say, being the kind of person who automatically adds oil to the pot, and starts the root veg long before any liquid is going in.

Also, that cranberry's got to be a DOMINANT flavor; there's only a cup of 'em, but they get star billing, even though there's more onion and cabbage, and equal amounts of beets.

I wonder how this would be cold. I wonder how this would be with more cranberries. I wonder how this would be if you let it go a little longer at a higher boil and ended up with a partially gelatinous soup...

I will find out, come this Thanksgiving, if not sooner.

Okroshka: Cold Beer Soup

It's sticky with humidity here in DC today. I just got back from a run to Whole Foods for some tomatoes to make a salad, and ended up getting more than a little beer. When I was a kid, sticky humid days meant Kool-Aid and Popsicles; now, it means beer.

Nothing Beets Borscht agrees with me, and shares this strange little recipe.

Cold Beer Soup (Irina-Style)
(Okroshka)

Okroshka is a cold soup -- refreshing, unusual, and ideal for a hot summer day.

The base of the soup is kvass, Russian bread beer, which tastes like a milk beer. Some people might shy away from making the beer from scratch. But let me assure you, it is not so difficult to make. As a matter of fact, it isn't difficult at all -- it's just a question of setting aside the time. When I make it I start it in the evening and then do the next step in the morning; later that evening I bottle it. From that piont on it's just a question of waiting for the kvass to mature. If you still are not excited by the idea of making your very own, delicious kvass, however, substitute soda water, or a dry champagne.

This is a do-it-yourself soup. The kvass is served in a bottle. Then, there are four bowls of goodies to put in your soup bowl. The kvass is then poured over your pile of goodie, and your soup is ready.

1 quart kvass (see page 173)

Bowl 1:
5 small cucumbers, peeled and grated
2 hard-boiled eggs, chopped
4 new potatoes or 2 large potatoes, boiled and mashed

Combine the above ingredients, prepared as indicated.

Bowl 2:
Scallion greens
Salt and pepper

Coarsely chop the scallion greens. Then sprinkle with salt and pepper, and hammer them so that they're very flat. This makes the scallion juice flavor the soup as soon as it is put in.

Bowl 3:
Precooked frankfurters and/or sausages, cut into bite-sized rounds

Bowl 4:
Chopped fresh dill

To serve okroshka, put the bowls out on a table, with a serving spoon in each, and the kvass, well chilled in its bottle or in a pitcher. Each person will help him/herself to the goodies from the bowl, in whatever proportion he/she wants, and then pour kvass over it.

I know that I have heard of milk beer before (and not Japanese variety that seems to have some web traction these days), but can't find a good reference. However, we can intuit from both the recipe for kvass and the context here that milk beer is a light beer that has little in the way of hops or aging. Good ol' Wikipedia points out its low alcohol content, and says that it's considered suitable for kiddies to drink. I remember kvass being sold on the sidewalks of Moscow... I was freaked out by the common "glass" which looked for all the world like a cross between an old trumpet mute and a diaphragm, so don't remember actually partaking. Plus, face it, at 18, I was a prim little thing, and didn't drink.

If people are interested, I can post the recipe for kvass as a bonus post. [[ETA: Recipe for KBAC/kvass up, here!]

Wikipedia suggests that you can substitute light kefir for the kvass, which makes me think that if you're going for something creamy, you could also use buttermilk. Why not! Wikipedia also tells us how much should be in that pile of goodies: "The ratio of chopped food to kvas is similar to that of cereal to milk." Good to know!

I think most "he/she" constructions are awkward beyond believe, but I like the usages here, as this is a 1974 book -- I like the idea of a teenaged girl not only writing and publishing a book, but also being aware of her choice of gendered pronouns. (And, no, I would not prefer the author use the gender-neutral pronoun "they" or any of its offshoots; it's plural, damn it.)

I am tagging this "vegetarian" because the sausages/frankfurters look entirely optional -- if anyone strenuously objects to that, do let me know. I want the tags/labels to be useful, but not over the top (yeah, there are two potatoes in this dish, but it doesn't seem like a potato dish, so no potato tag... etc.)

My dinner tonight isn't anywhere near as exciting as okroshka; an English ale, a slice of cheese on a piece of whole wheat bread, and eventually, the tomato salad that launched this post.

Stock for Dummies; Ukrainian Borscht

It has to happen: at least once during a week focused on Nothing Beets Borscht, I have to include a borscht recipe. There are pages and pages in the cookbook about different styles of borscht, including exhortations to use fresh beets, to make it at least a day in advance, to garnish with sour cream, etc. Jane Blanksteen also says that of all the different borscht recipes, Ukrainian Borscht is the favorite.

Ukranian Borscht

(10 to 12 servings)

Stock:
3 pounds ham hock
1 bay leaf
1 onion, peeled and studded with 5 cloves
1 carrot, peeled
1 celery stalk
Salt and pepper
3 quarts water

Stock Method:
1. Put all the ingredients in a large soup pot and bring liquid to a boil.
2. Turn off the heat and skim off the scum on the surface of the soup. The scum is that foamy, muddy stuff reminiscent of the foam you are likely to find at a polluted beach.
3. Now, cover the pot -- partially -- and let the soup simmer for 3 hours.
4. After 3 hours are up, let the soup cool. When it is cool enough not to scald your fingers, remove the vegetables and bay leave and the ham hock.
5. Throw out the vegetables and bay leaf, but save the ham hock. Remove all the meat from the bones and shred it with your fingers; throw out the bones.
6. Put the shredded meat in the pot.
7. Refrigerate the stock and, before you are about to use it, skim the fat off the top. It will be a solid white layer covering the stock.

Note:
Stock can be kept frozen for ages. It can also be kept on the back burner of your stove for a few days, if you bring it to a boil once in the morning and once in the evening to prevent any bacteria from being fruitful and multiplying.

Borscht:
1 medium onion, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 slices bacon or some butter or shortening
2 small carrots or 1 large, peeled and sliced into small disks
1 peeled, diced turnip or parsnip
1 cup peeled, chopped tomatoes or 4 small ones (can be canned)
Salt, pepper, 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 pound beets, making 2 1/2 cups when peeled and grated
1 pound white cabbage, shredded
1 pound potatoes, peeled and diced
1 pound kolbasa sausage or any cooked sausage you like (If you use raw sausage, first broil it or it will fall apart in the soup.)

Optional:
Russians usually add a grated parsley root and a celery root along with the grated beets. If you can find either or both -- throw them in.

Borscht Method:
1. Prepare all the ingredients as directed.
2. Sauté the onion and garlic (until they are limp and white, not browned) with 2 slices of bacon or just butter.
3. Sauté, adding to the onions and bacon or butter, the carrots, turnip, tomatoes (parsley and celery roots), salt, pepper, and vinegar.
4. Add 2 cups of stock to the frying pan with the vegetables.
5. Then add the beets. Cover the pan and simmer for 45 minutes.
6. Meanwhile, bring the 2 quarts of stock to a boil, then add the shredded cabbage and diced potatoes and simmer for 15 minutes.
7. When the beets are ready, dump the entire contents of the pan into the stock.
8. Simmer, partially covered, for 15 minutes to combine flavors.
9. Season to taste -- salt, pepper, sugar, vinegar.
10. Fifteen minutes before serving, add the sausage cut into the small, round slices, and simmer for 15 minutes partially covered.

Garnish: A dollop of sour cream in each bowl and some chopped dill sprinkled on top. Serve with pampooshky.

It sounds so good, it seems worth all the typing out.

Pampooshky are Ukrainian garlic rolls. The recipe for that is next in the book, but basically, it recommends buying "great, soft, eggy dinner rolls," heating them up, and serving them with a dressing of oil, garlic, salt and parsley poured over. Sounds delicious to me.

Not as appetizing: the polluted beach reference. I think "polluted beach," and I think Lake Erie in the 80s, or medical waste on the Jersey shore. When I think of foam on the beach, I think of a beautiful, grey day on the Oregon coast after a storm. So, if "polluted beach" doesn't do it for you, feel free to use my "beautiful coast after a storm" metaphor.

Though it's a long, wordy recipe, ya gotta like what basically becomes a "stock for dummies" recipe. The scum skimming, the definition of the fat layer... it's a recipe that a novice soup maker could take, use, and produce a completely-from-scratch masterpiece. Though, I'd say you'd probably want to include the ham you pulled off the hocks, adding it when you add the kielbasa.

Adapt to a vegetarian recipe by using vegetable stock, using butter instead of bacon, and leaving out the kielbasa.

Norma's Shchee

I was in the Soviet Union for a bit less than a month back in 1990. I remember eating a lot of soup, and wondering why none of it had any beets in it. I was pretty darned happy there were no beets, as I had not yet learned how backwards I was on that point yet, but remember wondering where the iconic beets were.

Turns out, there are lots of iconic Russian soups. Nothing Beets Borscht has a recipe for a shchee, which looks to be just what I remember having all over the USSR.

Norma's Shchee

This recipe for shchee, given to me by a good family friend, was the recipe of somebody's grandmother. It is one of the easiest recipes I have encountered, and also one of the best.

Notes:

1. If boneless chuck or brisket is used, take the meat out of the pot when it is ready -- check after 1 1/2 hours -- and when you serve the soup, serve the meat, heated and sliced, as the main course. The meat can also be used to fill piroshky to serve with the soup.

2. Carrots, parsnips, and turnips can be added to the soup. First peel these vegetables, then dice them, then brown them in butter, then dump them into the pot when you add the cabbage.

3 pounds flanken or shin beef or chuck or brisket
3 pounds cracked marrow bones
8 cups water
1 head cabbage (3 to 4 pounds), shredded
1 large onion, diced
3 tablespoons butter
4 cans tomatoes (8-ounce size)
10 pitted prunes (optional)
1/4 cup raisins (optional)
1 tablespoon salt
3 tablespoons lemon juice
6 tablespoons brown sugar (optional)
2 tablespoons honey (optional)

Garnish: sour cream and chopped fresh dill

Boil the meat and bones in the 8 cups of water for 1/2 hour. Skim off the scum.

Meanwhile, sauté the shredded cabbage and the diced onion in the 3 tablespoons of butter, for only 3 minutes. Add a can of tomatoes and continue to cook the cabbate until it is limp.

When the meat has finished its 1/2 hour, and the scum has been skimmed, add the sautéed cabbage-onion-tomato mixture to the beef.

Then add the rest of the tomatoes, the prunes and raisins, salt, lemon juice, brown sugar, and honey.

Bring the soup to a boil and then lower the heat and let simmer, partially covered, for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, or until the meat is tender.

Remove the meat from the pot and let it cool. When it is cool, either cut into cubes and return to the soup pot, or put it on a platter to be reheated and sliced, and served along with the soup.

Shchee tastes better at least a day old, so either refrigerate it or leave it on the stove and bring it to a boil twice a day (to prevent any bacterial growth that would make the soup toxic).

To serve, bring the soup to a boil and ladle it piping hot into soup bowls with a dollop of sour cream in each bowl. Then sprinkle with freshly chopped fresh dill.

Also served cold, in my experience. And you have to love any recipe that includes the word "toxic." But, hey, a good life lesson: how to keep large amounts of soup edible when you lack proper refrigeration!

When I had shchee there was never any meat in it, nor on the side. Meat was not plentiful where we were, and when someone offered you meat, you accepted it graciously. Usually, when asked, people would say that it was veal.

It was never veal.

It was this way that I had camel, horse, dog, cat, and various other animals. Truthfully? The camel gyros were delicious.