Quieting Life

Soup to Brighten a Winter's Day

I like to keep a supply of soup on hand. Whenever I make soup, I make a giant potful so I have plenty for putting by; the door of the upright freezer downstairs is neatly stocked with uniform quart containers in a rainbow of colors. On days when no one can get it up to cook, we can grab instant lunch or dinner from the freezer. We had a lot of those days in January, taking turns being sick or working long hours. And the soup supply has gotten woefully depleted. Time for restocking.

Making soup, for me, is a restorative. It's generally not a technical challenge, just a simple meditation over chopping and stirring and tasting. And it fills the house with a welcome warmth on these frozen days.

This bright and happy soup is one I've been evolving since the fall – built on sweet winter squash, chick peas, and kale, with some subcontinental spicing. My first go at it had lots of ginger with some cumin and cayenne, tarted up with fresh lemon juice. On my second try, I thought to add a can of coconut milk...which tied everything together into an extremely satisfying soup. I took careful notes on this latest batch so I could share the recipe.

So here you go: Winter Squash and Coconut Soup. This makes a big batch – we had a few steaming bowfuls and I still had 4 quarts for freezing. You can easily halve it for a more manageable dose.

Winter Squash and Coconut Soup

3-inch piece ginger
5 large cloves garlic
3 small ribs celery
2 large carrots
2 medium red onions
1 large butternut squash (@3 lbs.)
1 large bunch kale
2 tbsp. neutral-flavored oil (unless you have coconut oil on hand, which is what I used this time)
1½ quarts chicken stock (or rich vegetable broth for a vegan soup)

• • • • • • • •

2 19-oz. cans cooked chick peas (or 3 cups chick peas cooked from dry)
2 13.5-oz. cans coconut milk
juice of 2 lemons
salt to taste
2 tsp. ground cumin
1½ tsp. ground coriander
1 tsp. cayenne or other ground hot chile (more if you want it spicy, less if you don't)

Peel and coarsely chop the ginger, garlic, celery, carrots, and onions; set aside together in a bowl (these are the 'aromatics'). Prepare the following and set aside separately: Peel and seed the squash and cut into largish (1½ inch) chunks. Remove the tough ribs from the kale and coarsely chop the leaves. Drain and rinse the chick peas.

In a large pot – at least 8 qt. – heat the oil over medium heat, then sauté the aromatics until soft. Stir in the stock and add the squash. Bring carefully to a boil, then reduce heat, cover, and simmer until the squash is tender (about 45 minutes).

Remove the pot from the heat and let the soup cool enough that you can handle it comfortably. Purée the soup until smooth. A stick (immersion) blender is the best tool for this, as you can purée the soup right in the pot. Or you can purée the soup in batches in a blender or food processor.

Return the soup/pot to the stove and bring back to a simmer. Add the kale and chick peas and simmer until the kale is softened (about 30 minutes).

Stir in the coconut milk and lemon juice, then taste and add salt to your preference. Stir in the spices and simmer the soup for another 10 or 15 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

The soup will keep for up to a week in the fridge; freeze it for long keeping.

I'm hoping this coming storm just buries us in snow. I don't wish it on the cities and suburbs, but we're prepared to handle it here. Bring it on.

Christmas Dinner

When I was growing up, my family had roast turkey with all the trimmings twice a year – at Thanksgiving, and then a month later at Christmas. After my mother died (when we were all just becoming adults) I led a revolution and proposed that we have roast beef for Christmas dinner, and so we did for as long as my Dad and my siblings and I continued to be together for the holidays. Time and distance and marriages and resentments keep us apart these days, and my husband has a job that keeps us right here in Vermont for Christmas, so it's just us and whoever manages to come this way (this year, all of the kids and TJ's Mom).

Quick Preserved Lemons

When I hosted my book group here last month I decided to make a chicken tagine to serve the girls, but lacking a supply of preserved lemons, I had to improvise. It's possible to substitute sliced fresh lemons – I've done it – but the result just isn't the same. Here's my ad hoc remedy.

Select 2 lemons with nice shiny skins and scrub them clean with a paste of warm water and baking soda. This is a trick my brother's wife hipped me to years ago – nothing fancy, just dump a spoonful of baking soda in your hand, add a little water, and use both hands and a little firm pressure to scour the fruit all over, then give them a thorough rinsing. I do this whenever I'll be using the peel of any citrus (even when it's organic) – for marmalade, candied peel, whole preserved fruit.

(The French have a great little word for kitchen tricks like this: a 'truc' is any little thingie or whatsit or trick. We all have them, and sometimes they can be a revelation to others. I'm happy to share mine, and just added 'Truc' as a category. More to follow.)

Slice the lemons thinly, a little less than an eighth of an inch thick (make sure your knife is wickedly sharp).

Prick out the seeds and arrange the slices in a single layer on a flat plate. Sprinkle with about 2 teaspoons of kosher salt and half a teaspoon of sugar. (Sugar isn't generally used for long-preserved lemons, but I thought it might help with mellowing them on a tight schedule.) Add another layer of sliced lemons, then sprinkle with more salt and sugar.

Once all the slices have been arranged and sprinkled, place another plate on top, weight it, and leave to stand at room temperature for about 3 hours. Mine didn't give up enough liquid to run over, but if that's a concern, you can put the whole thing in the sink.

Before using, give them a quick cold-water rinse and drain them (or pat them lightly with a paper towel). Slice, dice, or quarter them to use in your recipe.

Duly chastened for my failure to have any of the 'real' thing on hand, I will now set about packing a jar full for future use.

A Few Good Recipes for Thanksgiving

I won't be hosting Thanksgiving this year. We'll be joining friends at their house, with an assortment of other folk. Of course I'll cook a thing or four to contribute, whatever I'm assigned. But I thought I'd offer up these few recipes, for three elements that have become as essential to Thanksgiving dinner as the turkey itself when I do host: Creamed Onions, Cranberry Chutney, and Buttermilk Pie. These recipes were all posted previously on my cooking blog – A Cooking Life – which I have let go dormant in favor of this here blog.

The creamed onions are a departure from the bland white dreadfuls of my youth, made eminently edible with pan-roasted onions and a sauce spiked with wine, cheese, and chicken stock. The upgrade has apparently been well-received, as I keep finding my recipe (and the accompanying photo) swiped and claimed as someone else's all around the internet. You know what they say about plagiarism. 

Garlic Scape Bisque

It's that time again, when we're overwhelmed with garlic scapes and faced with the dilemma of what on earth to do with them all. Two beds full of garlic = close to 150 garlic scapes.

In the past, I've grilled them, made pesto, and baked a scape and goat cheese tart. This year, I decided to try a nice cool vichyssoise-inspired soup, enriched with buttermilk rather than cream. The result was splendid. Read on for the recipe.