Red Lentil Soup | National Homemade Soup Day

Any day -- especially a gray, wintry day -- is a good day to make soup in my book. Tell me that it's National Homemade Soup Day, and I'm all over it.

It's not just the eating of it that's comforting, it's in the making, too. There's the first couple minutes of the butter melting, then the onions softening, then the warm aroma of the spices joining the party, the satisfying pleasure of stirring, the familiar awe when something creamy deliciousness evolves from nearly nothing. Every sense is touched. The process itself is soothing.

I don't have much experience cooking with lentils. Only once or twice have I made soup with the brown lentils I found at the supermarket. And it was met with a murky, sidelong glance from Mr. Rosemary. About the same reaction I got from split pea soup.

So it was a bold move I made when I picked up a bag of red lentils at Trader Joe's on one of my semi-annual trips to the "city."  Maybe it was the color he didn't like, I thought to myself.

Still, that pretty bag of coral colored beans sat in the pantry for several months. I hid them behind a bag of rice so they wouldn't chastise me any more. Then one day I relented.

I was naive enough to believe that the red lentils would remain a pretty color when they cooked. But they weren't brown nor green, so I was still on safe ground. I also -- although I didn't write it in the recipe below -- added about a cup of cubed sausage, knowing full well my life partner does not deem beans a fair substitute for meat.

The curry added just a nice dash of sweet spiciness to the soup and the coconut milk, as you'd expect, the right amount of creaminess.

Mr. Rosemary had seconds.

Red Lentil - Coconut Milk Soup
Adapted from Good Food Matters
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup diced onion
2 carrots, about 1/2 cup, diced
2 stalks celery, about 1/2 cup, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 tablespoons curry powder
1 cup red lentils
3 cups chicken broth
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 14-ounce can whole coconut milk

In a large pot, over medium heat, add the butter and olive oil. Stir in onions, carrots, celery and garlic and cook for about 3 minutes. Add the curry powder and cook for about 1 minute. Add the lentils and 3 cups of chicken broth and simmer for about 15 minutes.  Add the red pepper flakes and the coconut milk. Cover and simmer about 10 minutes and serve.

Tomato Soup Comfort and the Fairy Hobmother

When you’re under the weather, there’s nothing like a friendly visit from neighbors to cheer you up.  When they’re bearing gifts, even better.

When they’re bearing food gifts, well, that’s off-the-charts better.

Last week, the day after I returned home after an overnight stay in the hospital – it was a scheduled trip and everything’s okay --  I answered the door and there were my neighbors bearing a whole box of homemade goodies.  Chicken noodle soup,  vegetable soup, tomato soup, pickles and a freshly baked loaf of  wheat bread, wrapped in a linen tea towel, still warm from the oven.  (That has to be one of the world’s best aromas! No wonder real estate agents recommend baking bread before a buying prospects visit.)

The week before, my sisters had armed me with a week’s worth of freezer meals, too – a sausage barley stew, a chicken and bean stew, chili, and spaghetti sauce made from San Marzano tomatoes.  All delectable.

I was all set for a no-cooking recuperation! At least no cooking out of necessity . . . there was that pumpkin cheesecake!

Great comfort food from wonderful cooks and wonderfully generous people can’t be beat.  I’m lucky to have such wonderful people in my life.   And Mr. Rosemary has attentively nursed me back to good spirits.  (And he didn’t have to cook!)

A visit from the Fairy Hobmother was another recent surprise.  After I made a comment on Sam’s blog at My CarolinaKitchen, I received a visit from The Fairy Hobmother.  The Fairy Hobmother, who represents Appliances Online, granted me a wish with a nice gift card to Amazon.com.  Thanks, Fairy Hobmother.  The good news is that the same thing can happen to you.  All you have to do is leave a comment here and the Fairy Hobmother could visit you, too. 

A surprise visitor  bearing gifts!  Pretty comforting.

No recipe today . . . just comfort.  (And just one more fall picture, I promise.)

P.S.  I have to add that my neighbor's tomato soup was simple and delicious!  Nothing at all like the stuff we got at the school cafeteria!

The Proof’s in the Bread Pudding

I never had bread pudding when I was growing up. That’s probably because in a busy family with two parents working and four kids at home, stale bread was one rare commodity. It was a whole lot more likely for us to be out of bread completely!

Today, though, in an empty nest household, stale bread happens a lot more than I’d like, no matter how carefully I think I plan. I often freeze extra bread, sometimes make crumbs with the older stuff, but this time, I decided to make bread pudding. Just the name conjures up all kinds of cozy images and good cinnamon-y smells. I think I can smell a fresh cup of coffee along with it.

Many of the bread pudding recipes I’ve looked at asked for “stale Italian bread” or offered “ciabatta is best,” but they all said any stale bread will do. I think freezer burn is close to stale so I dug out a package of hot dogs buns that have been sitting in the freezer since Labor Day “just in case.” Here's my case.

A recipe from a beautiful blog, The Meaning of Pie, was my inspiration. The only things I did differently than Kelly was to sprinkle the dried cranberries and chopped walnuts (Christmas baking leftovers) over the milk soaked bread cubes before pouring the eggs over the mixture. I did let my hot dog buns sit on the counter naked so they would be drier. And I added a luscious and gooey vanilla sauce, so good I could have eaten it alone with a spoon. (Just a couple.) Eating the warm bread pudding, topped with the warm vanilla sauce and that hot cup of coffee almost makes winter worthwhile.  Next time, though, I'm thinking some brandy-soaked raisins would be nice.  And a little brandied-coffee, too.  That sounds like a real warmer-upper.

Bread Pudding
from The Meaning of Pie

About 4 cups (or more) torn bread, any leftover dried out bread you may have
2 cups milk
1 cup half and half
¾ cup sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Dash of salt
½ stick butter
3 eggs
Topping:  ¼ cup granulated sugar, ½ teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a casserole dish and fill it with torn bread. In a small saucepan, heat the milk, half-and-half, sugar, cinnamon, salt and butter until just melted and combined. Pour the milk over the torn bread and let it sit for about five minutes, being sure to submerge any bread pieces. In a small bowl, whisk the eggs and then pour over the bread. Carefully fold the eggs into the bread mixture until they’re well incorporated.

For the topping, mix the cinnamon and sugar and sprinkle over the top of the filled casserole.

To bake, use a water bath. Place the bread pudding dish in a pan large enough to hold it and place them together in the preheated oven. Very carefully, pour boiling water into the larger dish so it comes halfway up the sides of the bread pudding dish. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes or until a knife inserted in the middle comes out (pretty) clean.

Vanilla Sauce

½ cup butter
½ cup granulated white sugar
½ cup packed light brown sugar
½ cup whipping cream
1 tablespoon vanilla

Bring all the ingredients except the vanilla to a boil in a medium sized saucepan over medium heat. Reduce heat and simmer 4 to 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla.

Curried Sweet Potato Soup -- A Warmer Upper

Yet another (beautiful?) snow day here yesterday in Pennsylvania. Single digits. More than six inches of new snow.  It really is beautiful, but after a couple hours of taking care of the horses, cleaning off the cars, shoveling, and a bit of a walk, I was more than ready to curl up by the fire with some comfort food. For me that has to be soup.

Here’s the serendipitous sequence of events – more like a stream of consciousness – that inspired this sweet potato soup:

• I opened a new carton of non-fat yogurt to strain -- great way to imitate Greek yogurt, cheaply.
• The foil lid liner had a recipe for creamy sweet potato soup.
• That reminded me that I had some sweet potatoes in the pantry that were probably past their prime, or as my daughter would say, “Pretty sketchy, Mom.”
• Soup was on my brain.
• And I have yet another reason to use the new immersion blender I got for Christmas.

Almost karma, wouldn’t you say?

The result was exactly what I needed to warm me up and keep me content. The original recipe used canola oil and cumin. I used olive oil, added garlic and switched from cumin to curry – and increased the spice from a teaspoon to a whole tablespoon. I decreased the amount of broth from 1 ½ quarts to just 1 because I like a thicker soup, even if it’s pureed. I also had some fresh chives on hand, so I used that instead of cilantro. And I slipped in a couple tablespoons of sherry at the end, too. All in all, just a nice smooth and creamy soup, mellow with a bit of sweet heat.  A perfect soother.  Pretty color, too and not bad on the calorie front to boot.

By the way, it’s supposed to snow again tomorrow.

Curried Sweet Potato Soup
adapted from Dannon

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large sweet onion, coarsely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon curry powder
3 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed, about 3 cups
1 quart (32 ounces) chicken broth
1 ½ cup plain non-fat yogurt
2 tablespoons sherry (I used Madeira)
Extra yogurt and chopped chives for garnish

Heat the oil in a soup pot. Add the onion, curry powder and garlic and cook over medium heat until the onion softens, three to five minutes. Add the broth and potatoes. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 20-25 minutes until the potatoes are very tender. Remove from heat and add yogurt and use immersion blender till pureed. (Or put in a blender, in batches if you need to; then return pureed soup to pot.) Return to stove to warm and add sherry if you want. Top with a dollop of yogurt and chopped chives just for a touch of pretty. Makes 8 servings -- unless you're really cold.

Baby, It's (Still) Cold Outside!

It’s been unseasonably cool here this early May. I had to dig out the gloves I’d put away for the summer. I thought I was being organized and efficient; now I have upset boxes. I had to cover my newly planted vegetable garden and drape sheets over the last of the lilacs, just to savor a few more days of fragrance.

But that’s okay. The cool weather gives me another good reason to cook cozy comfort food, one of my favorite pasta dishes, one I never make in the summer. My sausage-pepper fettuccini is a simple, quick, mildly-spiced, creamy-saucy dish that ranks right up there with pasta carbonerra for me. That it happens to be my husband’s favorite just gives me another great excuse to make it. Forget about the fact that we’re both trying to shed a few pounds before an upcoming vacation. Who can think about shorts and tanks when it’s 35 degrees outside?

So while we start a fire to burn the last of the indoor firewood, I start to warm up the kitchen with a pot of boiling water and set about chopping the veggies, with Siriusly Sinatra crooning in the background. A bottle of wine is definitely in order.  This is a very colorful and, of course, rich pasta dish.  (I had only spaghetti in the pantry that day; better with fettucini.)

Mangia! Buon appetito!


Sausage-Pepper Fettuccini

½ pound sweet Italian sausage
½ cup butter
1 cup green pepper, cut into medium sized squares
1 cup red pepper, cut into medium sized squares
1 small onion, sliced thinly
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
½ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon dried thyme (or use all fresh, if you can!) 
1 clove (or more!) garlic, minced
1 cup half-and-half
12 oz. fettuccini noodles, cooked and drained
½ cup (or more!) grated parmesan – the real stuff

Remove casing from sausage, if necessary, and break into small pieces. In large skillet over medium heat, cook sausage until done. Remove from skillet. In same skillet, over medium high heat, melt the butter and add the pepper, onion, garlic and seasonings. Cook 3-5 minutes, keeping the vegetables crisp tender. Stir in sausage and half-and-half and cook until heated through. Toss with hot fettuccine and mix in cheese. Makes 4 to 6 servings. (Leftovers make a great frittata.)

A Comfort Food Day

Last Sunday, it was -4 degrees. And it was windy. So, of course, it felt a whole lot colder than it was.

I didn’t know it was quite that cold when my husband and I left the house in the morning to take care of the horses. I knew my fingers were tingling as we mucked the stalls, and the water buckets were frozen solid, but since the sun was out, at least it didn’t look all that cold.

Now, we stick pretty close to a morning routine, no matter the weather. We get up, check the news, have some coffee. Then we don our barn togs, feed the dog, the cats and the horses. Then we go for a two-mile walk.

And during the walk that day, I planned to myself that as soon as we got back to the house, I was going to start a pot of chili. I wanted the smells of onions and garlic and peppers and tomatoes and cumin to fill the house and be as warming as the fire in the fireplace. And it was just as comforting as I expected.

There’s a big winter storm predicted for this weekend. And although we’re not going to get hit as hard as places more south, it’s a pretty good excuse to concoct another comfort food meal. And if I make something on the gas stove, it won’t be in any danger should we lose electricity.

I decided on a one-pot dish called “Student’s Ragout.” It’s a nostalgic meal, too, since it’s one of the first meals my mother taught me to make without a recipe. There is a recipe, but she’d made it so many times she didn’t need one, and that’s how I learned to eyeball some things without measuring.

As we chopped the vegetables for the stew together, I once asked why it was called student's ragout. I think she made up the answer. She said it was because students who had to live frugally had just a hot plate to cook on and just one pot. They could put the meat and vegetables in their one pot, cover it and let it simmer while they hit the books. Nice story, Mom. Sounded good to a ten-year old, anyhow.

Her recipe came from a cookbook called, “The Mystery Chef’s Own Cookbook.” This particular cookbook was my father’s favorite. He’d often spout off one of the Mystery Chef’s helpful hints--"Put a piece of bread in your mouth while chopping onions and you won’t cry"--while he kibitzed in the kitchen with Mom.

The Mystery Chef was a radio talk show host from the 1930’s named John Macpherson. In his book, he explains that he called himself “The Mystery Chef” out of respect for his mother, who was more than slightly embarrassed that her only son had taken up cooking as a hobby in a time when that was definitely not the norm. When he eventually was broadcasting about cooking, in deference to his mother, he adopted the mystery moniker.

The book is a great read. Macpherson encourages everyday cooks to “Be an artist at the stove.” He doesn’t think of cooking, even the everyday stuff, as boring at all. In fact, we are inspired to “. . . use the creative ability that the Creator of All gave to you. The creative possibilities in the art of cooking seem to me practically unlimited.”

There are only five ingredients in the Student’s Ragout recipe. (Simple enough for the pauper students, right, Mom?) Here it is, in its entirety, from the 1945 edition of “The Mystery Chef’s Own Cookbook.” (His explanation for the name is at the end.)

The Student’s Ragout
(French)
Dinner cooked over a single burner. Serve 4 generously.

4 medium sized potatoes
2 medium sized carrots
3 medium sized onions
1 pound round steak, cut thin
½ pound sliced bacon (Canadian style)*
Salt and pepper
1 cup cold water

Prepare this dinner in a baking pan, large saucepan, or skillet with a lid. It is important to have a lid that fits the utensil.

Wash, peel and thinly slice the potatoes. Wash, scrape and slice the carrots. Peel and slice the onions. Cut the round steak across the grain into little strips about 2 inches long and half an inch wide. (First stretch the meat, and you can see which way the grain runs. You then cut across the grain. If the meat is cut with the grain, you have long, stringy pieces and it will be tough, whereas if you cut across the grain, meat will be tender.)

If ordinary bacon is used, halve the slices. Now place all the ingredients in the cooking utensil as follows:

First put the bacon in, spreading it over the bottom of the pan. Then distribute the steak in a layer over the bacon and sprinkle a little black pepper over it. Put in a layer of onions and carrots and sprinkle with a little salt and pepper. On top of all put the thinly sliced potatoes and sprinkle with a little salt and pepper.

Put the pan on the fire and start cooking. After 3 minutes add the cup of water and put on the lid. Cook for 45 minutes over a very slow fire, at which time water will have cooked into the ingredients, and you can serve a very delicious dinner, long a favorite with the students in the famous Latin Quarter of Paris.

*We rarely had Canadian bacon; it was too dear, a delicacy. We used regular ol' bacon.