Winter Whites

I'm cutting it pretty close here with the title, it being Daylight Savings Time now and a warm-ish Sunday morning in Arkansas, but I know we're still in for some coldness...

That being said, I thought I'd share a method for making homemade soup out of little more than a few handfuls of dried beans. I have only two cardinal rules for bean soup: 1. start with dried beans, not canned;* 2. don't add salt until the beans are tender (or they might never become tender!).

Here's the "recipe," presented more like a guide, with all kinds of possible omissions, substitutions, and additions. Honestly, I think the simpler you keep a bean soup, the better, so think of a final flavor you'd like to have in the soup, and decide on your seasonings and ingredients before you start making it; otherwise you might end up with a sloggy jumble. The photo soup was made with great northern beans, 1 onion, 2 carrots, 3 stalks celery, 3 cloves garlic, 1 1/2 cups chopped ham, lots of black pepper, salt, a couple spoonfuls each of Worcestershire and red wine vinegar, 1/2 teaspoonfuls each of dried oregano, cumin, and fennel seed, and a little paprika over the top. That's it--I didn't even have a bay leaf. You can make a simple Tuscan soup with only dried cannellini, water, onions, olive oil, rosemary, salt and pepper. Dig it.

*I don't mean to contradict myself. You've seen me use canned beans in other soups, and I'll always rely on them for their convenience. But when the whole point of the soup is the beans, I go purist, and cook them from the dry state.

Highly Adaptable White Bean Soup

• Pick through and rinse 1 pound of dried great northern beans (or pintos, cannellini, red beans, black beans, or a mixture). Put them in a medium bowl and cover with cold water by about 2 inches. Let them soak for 6 hours to a day.


• Drain the beans and place them in a large soup pot, covering with fresh cold water by about 2 inches. Add a bay leaf and/or a ham bone (or hock or shank), or add nothing but the water. Bring to a boil over high heat; place a lid on the pot slightly ajar and reduce the heat to medium, and cook for about 45 minutes, or until tender but not falling apart (there should be no "hardness" left).


• While the beans are cooking, chop some vegetables: 1 yellow or white onion (or 2 leeks), a few cloves of garlic, 1 or 2 carrots, 2 or 3 stalks of celery--any basic soup vegetables you have lying around (or bell peppers, jalapeno, parsnips, or fennel). Dice the onions, slice the leeks, carrots, or celery thinly, and mince the garlic. Heat a saute pan over medium heat, add a couple tablespoons of olive oil or butter, and saute the vegetables slowly for about 15 minutes, until they're soft and fragrant.


• When the beans are tender, add the vegetables to them. Check the water level--you can make the soup very thick or quite thin according to your preference; you'll just need to season it more if you have a lot of liquid. Cook the beans and vegetables together for at least 20 minutes over a medium-low heat to blend the flavors. If you've used a ham bone, this might be a good time to take it out and shred the meat off, returning the meat to the pot; or, you might want to leave it in until the meat is falling off of its own accord.


• During this last 20 minutes (or so), add whatever other vegetables or meats interest you: diced cooked ham, chicken, pork, or sausage; chopped green chilis; diced tomatoes or Rotel; roasted red peppers; corn; artichoke hearts...And add some seasonings: chopped fresh herbs like parsley, thyme, rosemary, sage, or cilantro; dried herbs like thyme, rosemary, oregano, basil; spices like ground cumin, ground coriander, a little fennel seed, cayenne pepper, Cajun seasoning; Tabasco or other hot sauce; freshly ground black pepper; the rind from a chunk of Parmesan cheese; lemon or orange juice or zest; Worcestershire sauce or a splash of red wine vinegar; a dab of mustard; a pinch of sugar; salt (only if the beans aren't hard anymore, remember!).


• Cook over low heat, tasting and adjusting, til it's good/great/awesome. Don't let anyone eat the bay leaf.

Depending on your additions, you should get at least 6 hearty servings from this pot.

Lentils and Friends, or Learning to Trust the Pleasures of Simplicity

There are certain dishes which, when I see their photographs and read their lists of ingredients, I'm less than excited about. Take lentils. Lentils, I know, have been eaten by humans for thousands of years, so we've had plenty of time to learn what goes well with them, how to season them, how to prepare them. And we wouldn't still be eating them if they weren't satisfying, right? In this version of lentil soup, we also have the "humble clan" of onions, carrots, celery, garlic. A little smoked sausage for flavor. I have to admit that I've been staring at this recipe in Ina Garten's Barefoot in Paris for years now, and haven't been the least bit inspired to make it (although I have made several recipes from the book and have always been pleased). Haven't I learned by now that the simplest players make the best results?

Something magical happens when just the right seasonings are paired with just the right combination of time-tested ingredients. No fancy herbs or specialty equipment required; you may already have all of these ingredients in your kitchen. Invite some folks over; take turns stirring the pot while you talk and get really hungry; break off chunks of French bread (or whatever bread-y thing you have around the house) and ladle the soup over, topping with Parmesan cheese (if you have it). Ah, good. I'm so glad you did that.

Lentil Sausage Soup (adapted slightly from Barefoot in Paris)

• 1 pound French green lentils such as du Puy (I'm sure regular brown lentils would work well)


• 1/4 cup olive oil


• 3 large yellow onions, diced


• 3 large cloves garlic, minced


• 1 teaspoon kosher salt


• 1 1/2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper


• 1 tablespoon minced fresh thyme leaves


• 1 teaspoon ground cumin


• 8 stalks celery, diced


• 4 carrots, diced


• 3 quarts (12 cups) chicken stock or broth


• 1/4 cup tomato paste


• 1 pound kielbasa, cut in half lengthwise and sliced 1/3" thick


• 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar (or red wine vinegar, or red wine)


• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper


• for serving: freshly grated Parmesan cheese, extra olive oil, bread

1. In a large bowl, cover the lentils with boiling water and allow to sit for 15 minutes. Drain.


2. In a large stockpot over medium-low heat, heat the oil and saute the onions, garlic, salt, pepper, thyme, and cumin for 20 minutes, or until the onions are translucent and tender. Don't use too high a heat or the garlic will burn.


3. Add the celery and carrots and saute another 10 minutes. Add the chicken stock, tomato paste, and drained lentils, cover, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer uncovered for 1 hour, or until the lentils are cooked through and tender.


4. Add the kielbasa, vinegar, and cayenne and simmer about 5 minutes. Check for salt: depending on the saltiness of the broth, tomato paste, and sausage, you may need a lot or hardly any. Serve with a hunk of bread, drizzled with olive oil and topped with grated Parmesan.

Serves 8

The Gnocchi Diaries

I'm addicted to them. I've made my own, from potatoes, flour, and salt, and they were divine, but the vacuum-packed ones you can get at groceries now are very close to homemade. Who doesn't like a little dumpling now and then?

This soup was an improv that totally worked. The beans boost the protein, so if you're eating this for a meatless supper, add them. Cooked pasta or rice could definitely stand in for gnocchi.

Mushroom-Tomato Soup with Gnocchi

• 1 cup chopped onion, white or yellow
• 3 to 4 cups sliced mushrooms (I used a combo of shiitake and white button)
• a little olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
• salt and black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• a few tablespoons of dry red or white wine, or 2 tablespoons of wine vinegar
• 1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes, undrained, or two chopped tomatoes
• 3 cups chicken broth, vegetable broth, or water
• 2 tablespoons prepared pesto, or some chopped basil and extra garlic
• 1 15-oz. can white beans (optional), rinsed and drained
• 1 package gnocchi
• freshly grated Parmesan cheese for serving

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil for the gnocchi.
2. Heat a spoonful or two of olive oil in a deep saute pan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the onions, mushrooms, and thyme. Season with salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes. Saute for about 8 minutes, until the veggies are getting soft. Add the garlic and saute for another 2 minutes, til the pan is almost dry.
3. Add the wine and stir up all the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the tomatoes, broth, and pesto, stir, and bring to a gentle simmer. At this point it can simmer for 20 minutes or so as the gnocchi cooks, but keep adding broth or water if it's starting to lose too much liquid.
4. When the pot of water boils, add the gnocchi and cook until they float to the top, about 5 minutes. Drain and add to the mushroom mixture.
5. Add the white beans, if using. Taste for salt and pepper. It might be a good idea to add another spoonful of pesto at this point.
6. Serve in shallow bowls with Parmesan cheese grated over each serving.

Serves 3-4

Hard Squash, Soft Soup

This is the most-requested soup I make...it has convinced several people to hang around my house, offering to peel, chop, fix leaky faucets, or entertain until the soup was ready to eat. It won't look pretty while it's simmering--it'll suggest a brownish, murky, apple-y stew--but once the blender does its magic, you get this lovely, sunny winter-spirit-lifting yellow. All the "work" is in the chopping; it's quite easy to finish once everything's in the pot. You'll get a chance at the end to perfect your salting skills.

Curried Butternut Squash Soup

• 1 large leek, dark green tops discarded, rinsed well and sliced thinly


• 5 cloves garlic, chopped


• a little vegetable or olive oil


• 1 teaspoon ground cumin


• 1 tablespoon curry powder


• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper


• 3 pounds butternut squash, peeled and cubed (about 6 cups)


• 1 pound Granny Smith apples, peeled and chopped (3 to 4 cups)


• 6 cups water


• 1/3 cup whipping cream


• salt & pepper


• chopped cilantro or parsley for garnish

Heat the oil over medium heat in a soup pot. Add the leek, garlic, cumin, curry, and cayenne, and saute for a few minutes to soften. Add the squash, apples, and water to the pot, bring to a boil, reduce heat to a gentle simmer, cover, and simmer about 30 minutes, until the squash is very tender. Puree the soup in batches in a blender or food processor (be careful of hot liquid splatters), or in the pot with an immersion blender. Stir in the cream and heat gently, without boiling. Add some salt and pepper: I start with a teaspoon and a half of salt. You'll need to add salt gradually and taste after each addition until it reaches its prime flavor. This soup has the ability to be the most flavor-licious pot of goodness you've ever tasted, but you have to trust that the salt will get it there. Be earnest with it.

Makes about 10 cups.

Look what happened!

So, after you make your fabulous chicken stock, you might want to do this: make chicken noodle soup. Boring, you might think. But no. This is important. It's a very simple recipe, once you have homemade stock. (Don't make this if you're going to regress and settle for canned.) It's very economical too. Very healthful as well, if you get good chicken. It's more filling than you'd expect. It's one of those foods that tastes better than it seems possible for it to taste. It's food that reminds us that, if we go through all the steps, life is easy and good.

I used the recipe from Barefoot Contessa Family Style. Her soup recipes are always right.

Chicken Noodle Soup

(serves 4 to 6)

• 1 whole (2 halves) chicken breast, with skin and bones
• olive oil
• kosher salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• 2 quarts homemade chicken stock
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 3 carrots, diced
• 2 cups wide egg noodles, uncooked
• 1/4 cup chopped parsley

1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. Place the chicken breast on a sheet pan and rub the skin with olive oil. Sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Roast for 35 to 40 minutes, until cooked through. When cool enough to handle, remove the meat from the bones, discard the skin, and shred or dice the meat.
3. Bring the chicken stock to a simmer in a medium-large pot and add the celery, carrots, and noodles. Simmer uncovered for about 10 minutes, until the noodles are cooked. Add the cooked chicken and the parsley and heat through.
4. Add salt and pepper until it's tasty, and serve.

Stock Matters.

This little guy can make a big difference in your life.


I cooked at home for years before I made my own stock. It just didn't seem like something worth my time. I could buy chicken broth by the carton...what's the difference? I imagined aproned grandmothers puttering between their steaming stoves and pots of petunias all day--not my scene. But then I finally broke down and made a chicken stock, just to experience it, just to try it out. And I can honestly say it improved my food so much that I'm ashamed of myself when I resort to using canned broth for lack of homemade stock in the freezer. Shame on us all for not making more stock!

It's not just that homemade stock's flavor beats canned; you can manipulate the flavor of your own homemade stock the way you can't possibly manipulate a pre-made product. For instance, if you're going to be using the stock in a Vietnamese dish, you might want to add a little cilantro, if you catch my drift. If you love garlic, you might want to toss in a few cloves (or heads). And you can control the quality of your food better. You'll know, because you paid for it, the quality of the chicken you use. If you're down with Tyson, that's your business; I go for something a little more organic. I don't put "scraps" in my stock, as some recipes or cooks will suggest. Basically, I don't put anything in it that I wouldn't eat...and I don't eat onion skins. Another major difference between homemade and canned is the gelatin factor. "Broth" doesn't have the natural gelatin that a stock, made from water-simmered bones, has. You know you have no gelatin in your broth when you refrigerate it and it doesn't "set" into some sort of savory jello-like consistency. And gelatin is what adds the natural body (read: yumminess) to a stock, which in turn adds natural body to your soup, stew, sauce, or whatever you're using it in.

Stock recipes abound; just about every cookbook I've ever seen has a recipe in it for light chicken stock. (FYI, I'm talking light chicken stock here; we're not roasting the bones for a dark chicken stock today. Stay tuned for that one.) I'm including my own procedure, but it's just a starting point. Fiddle around until you find your ideal combination.

Light Chicken Stock

1 chicken (3 to 4 pounds), giblets removed, rinsed

2 carrots, scraped and halved

2 stalks celery, cut crosswise into thirds (including leaves)

1 onion, peeled and halved

10 sprigs parsley

3 sprigs thyme

2 bay leaves

1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns

Put all of the ingredients in a medium to large stockpot and cover the chicken with cold water (about 3 quarts of water should do it). Over medium heat, bring the water to a low simmer; this will take about 40 minutes. During the first 20 minutes or so of simmering, skim off the foam that rises to the top. Simmer uncovered very slowly (i.e., barely-bubbling) for about 3 to 4 hours, or until the liquid is the flavor you like. Discard the big solids, like the chicken and bones, onions, etc. Line a sieve with a double layer of cheesecloth (you can buy this at Target in the gadget aisle) and pour the stock through it into a large bowl or another pot. Discard everything you catch in the cheesecloth. Refrigerate the stock for 5 to 6 hours (or overnight), to give the fat a chance to rise and solidify on the top. Once the fat is solidified, you can take the stock out of the fridge and scoop the fat off with a spoon, discarding it. Then, pack the stock into smaller, recipe-sized containers (usually 2 or 3 cups) and freeze up to 6 months, or refrigerate up to 4 days.

I usually get 2 1/2 quarts of stock from this recipe.

Note: you'll want to let the stock come to room temperature before you measure it for use in recipes. It really does set up.

woah woah woah pozole!

Yesterday was, yes, too hot to cook soup for hours. But it didn't matter once we got the new issue of Gourmet. You'll see several of the recipes from their articles on Latin food in the next week or two at Soup Loop. Last night belonged to Pozole Rojo...and guess what? This morning we were still in love.

The truth is, when you set out to make pozole (a Mexican chile-sauced pork and hominy stew), you're in for several hours of cooking. Not working straight for four hours, but being near the kitchen for sure. I'd never made pozole before, so didn't really know how working with the dried chiles would go, or how spicy the finished dish would be, and there are some things I will change the next time I make it. First, I won't completely seed the dried chiles. My finished soup had less heat than I was wanting (my guests and I dressed up our bowls with some minced fresh jalapeno, and problem solved). Second, I will follow the instructions to tie the herbs together...it's really important to be able to remove the herbs from the broth easily. Finally, I will buy a bigger pot and make a double batch.

Pozole Rojo
(from Gourmet Sept. 2007)

1 bunch mint (1 oz.)
1 bunch cilantro (1 oz.)
4 lb country-style pork ribs (not lean)
10 cups water
26 garlic cloves (about 1 1/2 heads), peeled, divided
1 (1/2-lb.) white onion, quartered, plus 1/2 cup chopped white onion
1 teaspoon dried oregano
5 whole black peppercorns
2 oz. dried guajillo or New mexico chiles (6 to 9), wiped clean
1 1/2 oz. dried ancho chiles (2 to 4), wiped clean
1 whole clove
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
3 (15-oz.) cans hominy, rinsed and drained (I used one can of white and two of yellow)

Accompaniments for serving: diced avocado; crema; queso fresco; thinly sliced iceberg or romaine lettuce; chopped white onion; sliced radishes; fried tortilla strips or chips; lime wedges; dried oregano; dried hot red-pepper flakes

1. Tie together mint and cilantro with kitchen string.
2. Bring pork and water to a boil in a large pot, skimming froth, then reduce heat to a simmer. Add tied herbs, 20 cloves garlic, quartered onion, oregano, peppercorns, and 2 teaspoons of salt and gently simmer, uncovered, until pork is very tender, about 2 hours. Strain broth through a large sieve into a large heatproof bowl. Return broth to pot. Discard mint and cilantro. Transfer cooked onion and garlic to a blender with 1 1/2 cups broth and puree until smooth (use caution when blending hot liquids). Add puree to broth. Discard bones and coarsely shred pork into broth.
3. Meanwhile, slit chiles lengthwise, then stem and seed. Heat a large cast-iron skillet over medium heat until hot, then toast chiles in batches, opened flat, turning and pressing with tongs, until more pliable and slightly changed in color, about 30 seconds per batch. Transfer to a bowl and pour 2 2/3 cups boiling water over chiles. Soak, covered, until softened, about 30 minutes.
4. Puree chiles with 1/12 cups soaking liquid, chopped onion, remaining 6 garlic cloves, whole clove, and 3/4 teaspoon salt in cleaned blender until a smooth paste forms, about 2 minutes. (I just rinsed out my blender.)
5. Heat oil in a cast-iron skillet over medium heat until it shimmers, then add chile paste (it will spatter) and cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened, 5 minutes.
6. Add chile paste and hominy to pork and simmer 5 minutes. Season with salt.

Serves 8-10

I consulted with one of my dinner guests who had eaten pozole before, and we agreed that the most crucial toppings are radish and lime. Last night we also used lettuce, avocado, and jalapeno. And this morning, as you can see, was all about the huevos.