When Only Soup Will Do

I'm not such a winter person. Should you look at my resume, then, you might think I was mad, having spent the last seven years in such tropical locales as Montreal and Chicago. Despite the severity of the winter months, Montreal remains among my favorite cities in the entire world, and Chicago is not far behind (though at least the sun shone in Montreal between January and March, while Chicago was perpetually blanketed by grey). The fall, however, is one of my favorite times of year. And it has been far too short these past few years - I can recall a solid four days of fall-like weather in Chicago last year, and that might even be stretching it.

Now that I am back in New York, I am basking in all of it's autumn-ness, which has extended for weeks. I can think of no more wonderful place to be in the fall. As I look with a birds-eye view out of the window of my airplane, I can say without reservation that the palette with which Mother Nature works her magic in New York is unparalleled. It's wonderful walking weather, blissfully warm in the sun, while in the shade a light jacket or sweater provide ample protection from the chill. It's not even out of the question to stop at the Shake Shack and pick up frozen custard every once in a while. In fact, there might be no better weather for ice cream, since there is no rush to devour it before it melts into a sticky, gloppy stream traversing down your wrists. The list of things I love about fall is, well, it's unwritten, but if it were it would fill volumes - and it's not close to complete.

Autumn is really such a gently creature. She takes her time, settles in and makes sure we're comfortable with the idea of cold weather before winter comes crashing in. Fall introduces us to the crisp air, to its smells and its ability to just penetrate every fiber of our being.



Winter is far less considerate; if winter had its way, we'd have to deal with snow and sleet and harsh, biting winds without any sort of transitional period. That's where fall comes in. She gets us settled in to the post-summer way of life, and allows us ample time to embrace the coming winter. Full of such wonders as Thanksgiving, Halloween, apples, pumpkins, gem-colored leaves, and hell, my birthday, we're almost too distracted to notice that summer has left us behind.

That's not to say that fall doesn't affect us at all. That introduction of cold, crisp winds penetrates your body, ensuring our peace with it by the time the weather really turns.

I don't know about you, but the first few days of cold air leave me craving soup. Only soup will do to counter fall's chilly embrace. Once fall has done her job and my body has adjusted to the chilly air, my cravings become more well-rounded and varied. Sure, there'll be the odd soup here and there, but it's nothing like fall. At the first signs of cold, I need to be heated from the inside out, and the warm liquid traveling from mouth to tummy does just that. It allows me to make peace with the cold, since I have fooled my body into believing it's surrounded by warmth. Then before I (and my excessively fragile circulatory system) know it, winter has settled in, and I am totally alright with that.

And so the past two Sundays I've settled into my sweatpants and cooked up a giant pot of soup, meant to last me the week. After I return home from my walk back form work, I head to the stove and reheat away.

There is no comparison between soup made from scratch and the stuff from a can, and spending the little extra time (no more than a couple of hours, really) on the weekend means that I can enjoy the good stuff during the week in exactly the same amount of time it would take me to pop open a can and heat it up on the stove. So should you need some warming, throw some stuff in a pot, get cozy with some DVRed It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, stir every once in a while, and enjoy.

White-Bean Escarole Soup
Adapted from Martha Stewart



This soup is oddly nostalgic for me. When I was younger, my family and I would trek out to Staten Island for lobsters at a Spanish restaurant that featured a "Daily Double" lobster special. This soup was always an option to begin, and I remember always being unsure as to what escarole was, but I think I always ordered it, and I am pretty sure I really liked it. I'm not really sure what else would lead to such pointed cravings for white-bean escarole soup than a little nostalgia.

Regardless, this soup is hearty, filling, and best of all, really healthy. The pancetta imparts a bit of smokiness to the soup, and while it's not necessary, this smoky note adds a great deal of depth.

1 pound navy beans or other white beans (I used small cannelini beans, but would have preferred something larger)
6 cups beef stock
1 large onion, minced
2 carrots, peeled and sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
1/4 pound pancetta (Italian raw bacon), cut into 1/4-inch cubes
1 large head escarole, washed and separated into leaves
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Soak the beans overnight, or boil for 3 minutes and soak for 1 hour.
Simmer the beans in the soaking water and stock with the onion, garlic, carrot and bay leaves until the beans are tender (about 1 hour). Blanch the pancetta in boiling water for 5 minutes. Drain and add to the soup halfway through cooking.
When beans are thoroughly cooked, add the escaole leaves. Simmer for 2 minutes and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Mushroom Barley Soup
Adapted from Zingerman's Deli's recipe in Jewish Cooking in America via epicurious.com



Among my absolute favorite things in the world, mushroom barley soup is a deli classic. On offer in every institution from
Carnegie to Manny's, it's a standby, a never-fail dish that has a place in many people's memories. This version is fantastic, adapted from a recipe from Zingerman's Deli in Ann Arbor, Michigan it is thick, substantial, and again, healthy. The parsley perks up the other ingredients, both visually and taste-wise, and is a really great addition to this soup. I also added a parsnip, because I like them, but feel free to leave it out if that's not your thing.

This recipe produces a ton of soup, so I'd suggest either halving the recipe or planning on having a lot of friends over to share it with you. However, it's tastiness may lead you to eating a bit more than you had planned.

2 tablespoons dried porcini mushrooms (about 1/2 a one-ounce package)
2 tablespoons butter (original recipe calls for margarine, but if keeping kosher is not a concern for you, butter is a better bet)
1 large onion, thinly sliced
2 ribs celery with leaves, diced
1/4 cup parsley
2 carrots, peeled and sliced
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 pound cremini mushrooms (or other mixed mushrooms, preferably not button)
1 tablespoon flour
7 cups beef broth or water
1 cup whole barley
2 teaspoons salt

Soak the mushrooms in 1 cup of hot water to cover for a half hour. Strain through a coffee filter or cheese cloth, reserving the water.
Coarsely chop the dried mushrooms.
Melt the butter in a stockpot and sauté the onion, celery, 2 tablespoons of the parsley, carrot, garlic, and fresh mushrooms until soft, about 5 minutes.
Lower the heat and add the flour, stirring every 30 seconds for about 5 minutes or until thick.
Add the beef broth and the cup of reserved mushroom water to the pot, and turn the heat up to high. When the soup has come to a simmer, add the barley. Stir well and season with salt and pepper to taste.
Simmer, covered, for about an hour or until the barley is tender and the soup is thickened, stirring often.
Add additional chopped parsley, mix thoroughly, and adjust seasonings.

A Bowl of Nostalgia

Though I still have my day in Napa to document, I am going to take a quick hiatus from the NorCal posts and turn to Passover. I have a slew of leavening-free recipes and photos to share with you, and I wanted to share at least one before the holiday is technically over.

Matzoh ball soup is one of the few items of traditional Jewish food that have really caught on in North America. It’s ubiquitous and recognizable to people all over, regardless of how many Jews they actually know. Kreplach? Kugel? Tsimmes? If you don’t have Jewish friends, it’s likely that you haven’t seen, or even heard of this stuff, but matzoh ball soup has made a name for itself, and deservedly so.

Though much Jewish food gets a bad rap, there is no denying that there is a place for matzoh balls in almost everyone’s heart. If you’re sick, homesick, or in any way feeling nostalgic, it’s pretty likely that a steamy bowl of matzoh ball soup will relieve your aching heart.

I spoke with my Grandmother last weekend about the Seder I was hosting. She gave me a few words of wisdom about matzoh balls, namely that I should never trust the recipe on the back of the matzoh meal container, since it calls for far too few eggs. And seltzer, seltzer is the key to incredibly light matzoh balls.



I’ve made matzoh balls before, and I’ve used seltzer in making them, but they haven’t been stellar. They’ve been good, but I want that ethereal lightness and lingering salty taste that the matzoh balls of my youth possessed. There’s a pretty standard formula to matzoh balls: 2:1 ratio of matzoh meal to fat and seltzer. Then a couple of eggs, some salt and pepper and you’ve got yourself some matzoh balls. It’s really that simple.

Since the back of my matzoh meal box didn’t even have a recipe, I turned to a trusted source, where I found a recipe that looked pretty much like the one I used last year to some success.

But then I stumbled upon a recipe from Mark Bittman from the Best Recipes in the World. He suggests that, for incredibly light matzoh balls, to beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks and mix them in after all of the other ingredients were combined. Soft peaks mean that there are a lot of little air bubbles in the egg whites from the beating, which is what makes for lightness. It made logical sense, so I gave it a go.



I combined the two techniques and was rewarded with fluffy, light, gorgeous balls of deliciousness that managed to sit in the soup, soaking up just enough of its salty flavor, without becoming a sponge and sucking the bowl dry. The matzoh balls were light, tasty, and didn’t weigh the stomach down, nor did they fill you up before the brisket even made it to the table.

This is a classic recipe that is much more simple than you’d imagine it to be. So often we fear replicating the dishes of our youth, worried that the products will fall so far short of those our family miraculously composed all those years ago. Though you might need a recipe, at least at first, you’ll make it all your own, and you’ll be able to bring your love to the tradition that graves your table at holidays and year round. Yours might not be as great as Bubbie’s the first time you make them, but believe me, you’ll get there, or at least close to there. Eventually.


Matzoh Ball Soup

This classic recipe is something that I’m convinced everyone should attempt making at some point. It’s so simple, almost to the point of foolproof, really. This recipe produces super light matzoh balls, if you prefer a smaller, more leaden type matzoh ball (a “sinker”), then you’re probably best served to look elsewhere, thank you very much. The matzoh balls are served in a simple stock, with a few carrots and sprigs of dill thrown in for good measure. It’s a great recipe to have in your arsenal, be it Passover or not, be you Jewish or not.



The Stock

As far as the chicken soup goes, it’s just a basic stock. There are infinite interpretations and combinations, but what I did was this: I threw some chicken backs, necks and thighs into a large pot, added some vegetables (in this case carrots, parsnips, leek tops, a few cloves of garlic (skin removed) and two small onions, but you can use any combination you desire) and a few sprigs of thyme, a few peppercorns, some parsley and a bay leaf. After the pot has been assembled, the directions are the same, no matter what’s inside:

Fill the pot with water until the chicken and vegetables are just covered (for me, probably around 3-4 quarts of water). Bring the water to a boil. After about 20 minutes you’ll see scum forming at the top, skim that off and discard. Once skimmed, lower the heat so that the liquid is at a simmer. Cover and let simmer for about 2-4 hours. Drain the mixture through a sieve or colander back into a storage container or the pot. Discard the vegetables, herbs and chicken parts (I saved the thighs and shredded them up into the soup before I served it). Chill the stock in the fridge overnight. Before reheating, remove the layer of fat that has formed at the top of the container and throw that away.

The Matzoh Balls

A mish-mach of recipes from Smitten Kitchen and Mark Bittman, How to Cook Everything

1 cup matzoh meal
4 eggs, separated
4 T rendered chicken fat or vegetable oil
¼ c. grated onion
2 teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
4 tablespoons seltzer

Separate the eggs, placing the yolks in a medium-sized bowl and setting aside the whites in a large bowl. Mix the remaining ingredients together with the yolks. Set mixture aside. With an electric mixer, beat the eggs until soft peaks form. You can test for soft peaks by stopping the mixer and lifting it out of the eggs. Two small peaks will form where the mixer has been lifted out and the tips will tip over, resembling an ocean wave. Those are soft peaks. Take the egg whites and spoon them into the bowl with the matzoh meal mixture. Gently fold in the whites until combined. Try your best to remove any clumps of matzoh meal in the mixture, since those will probably stay hard throughout cooking, which is not what you want. Be gentle though, since you want to preserve those tiny air bubbles in the egg whites to keep your matzoh balls light. Once incorporated, cover the mixture and place in the refrigerator for at least one hour, up to overnight.

Heat a large pot of salted water to a boil. Remove the mixture from the fridge. Using very wet hands, gently form the mixture into balls about one inch in diameter.




After forming each ball, immediately ease it into the boiling water. Once all the matzoh balls are in, lower the heat to a simmer. Cover and let simmer for about 35-40 minutes.

While the matzoh balls are cooking, heat the stock up over low heat. If you’d like, peel and finely chop some carrots and place into the heating stock. About 10-15 minutes of cooking time for the carrots should ensure they get soft without turning to mush.

Place a couple of matzoh balls in each bowl of soup. Ladle some of the stock over the matzoh balls, garnish with some fresh-snipped dill and parsley, and serve immediately.

Serves about 8 people generously