soupsong.com » 2008

October 29, 2008

Seduced by oysters

Filed under: Soup, soup recipes — pat @ 9:34 pm

Soup in my sink

Soup getting close to my belly

It’s a cold autumn night in Paris and I’m walking home with my new hairdo from Mickael at en a parté, thinking about the new post I’m about to make on Sevrès tureens, Madame Pompadour, and 18th century French soup. Then it hits me: MUST HAVE OYSTER SOUP! After all, I’m stopping by Casino’s anyway to check out the possibilities for Halloween candy. And, how sweet, there they are: a special on No. 3 oysters from Arcachon. Mmmmmmm. It all comes together. Plump, juicy oysters, butter and cream from Normandie, Muscadet wine from Bretagne–yes, definitely pop the first 6 oysters from shell to mouth to get into the spirit of the thing–and a nice garnish of cayenne pepper, shaved lemon peel, and parsley. So if you can just hold off for another week about that incredible Soupe à la Pompadour, I’d love you to join me for Soupe aux Huitres. It is SO easy and SO fast, especially if you don’t have to shuck the oysters.

SOUPE AUX HUITRES (for 4)

24 small oysters with their liquor (or 12 big ones, cut in half)

1 cup dry white wine

1 cup heavy cream

1/2 cup crushed biscuit crackers

6 Tablespoons butter, cut in little pieces

Salt (taste first, you may not need it) and finely ground white pepper

Garnish: sprinkle of cayenne pepper, finely cut lemon peel, a few parsley leaves

Put the oysters, their liquor, and the wine in a saucepan and bring to a fast boil. Immediately reduce heat to very low, skim as needed, then stir in cream, crushed crackers, and butter. Swirl the pan until the butter is incorporated. Season carefully, swirling a little more. Ladle into bowls and garnish with cayenne, lemon peel strips, and parsley.

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October 24, 2008

Benign Neolithic Bi-Babies Bless Lentil Soup

Filed under: History and culture, Soup, soup recipes — pat @ 10:25 am

Neolithic cuties from Ain Ghazal

Hisaa al adas bhamud

Okay, this is my most shameless conjunction to date. This fabulous statue, dating back some 8,000 years and part of a family group at the Amman Archeological Museum, doesn’t have anything at all to do with this particular bowl of lentil soup.

This statue and the other 31 in existence were discovered at Ain Ghazal in 1974 when a highway was being bulldozed from Amman to the nearby city Zerqa. Back when I worked in Washington, DC, I’d fallen in love with one of them–it is dramatically spotlighted in a hallway at the Sackler Gallery–and now here I was, pretty much on the spot of its creation.

Ain Ghazal was inhabited for over 2000 years, starting around 7250 BCE, and over time its people developed complex rituals, created and buried these mysterious plaster statues, domesticated sheep and cattle, built plastered homes, and became subsistence farmers who grew wheat barley, chickpeas, peas, and…and…and…LENTILS. Whew, I knew I’d come up with a nexus if I did enough research.

To honor this great moment for me, standing in the museum surrounded by these sweet-faced ET-like creatures (and let’s not even think about the astonishing other exhibits–like actual Dead Sea Scrolls; ancient copper scrolls that tantalize with a story of a still undiscovered treasure site; Nabatean pornography; skulls and life-size pottery mummies; limestone and marble statues; the list is endless and endlessly rich), may I invite you to make and eat a bowl of Jordanian lentil soup? Hisaa al adas is a classic made from brown lentils, rice, herbs, and spices. Hisaa al adas bhamud, recipe below, is a rich lemony classic made of red lentils, vegetables, herbs, and spices–absolutely sensational!

Hisaa al adas bhamud for 4

5 cups water (or light broth)
1 and 1/2 cup red lentils
1/2 pound zucchini, chopped fine
2 medium potatoes, peeled and chopped fine
2 Tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, chopped fine
1 large clove garlic, crushed with 1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup cilantro and/or parsley, minced
1 teaspoon cumin
1/4 cup lemon juice
salt and pepper to taste
Garnish: sprigs of mint and lemon slices

Bring the water (or broth) to a boil and add the lentils, return to a boil, reduce heat, cover and cook for 30 minutes. Add the zucchini and potatoes, reboil, then reduce heat, cover, and let simmer for another 20 minutes. Meanwhile, saute the onions in oil over low heat until transparent, then stir in the garlic and cilantro/parsley for a minute, then the cumin, and scrape everything into the soup, which has finished cooking, and simmer for 10 more minutes. When ready to serve, stir in the lemon juice, taste for seasoning, and ladle into bowls with a sprig of mint for garnish–or serve the mint and lemon slices on the side.

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October 15, 2008

Holy Land Soup in Jerash

Filed under: Soup, soup recipes — pat @ 2:29 pm

Temple of Zeus

Hisaa al tomatem at the Royal Jordanian resto, thanks to Suleyman

Hisaa al tomatem at the Royal Jordanian resto,
with gracious thanks to Suleyman

One minute I’m swinging my feet in my Paris office, the next I’ve been offered a 3-week assignment in Amman, Jordan. I booked my tickets the same day and flew in to Queen Alia airport last week. I hadn’t been to Jordan since 1987 when we drove as a family across the Allenby Bridge from Jericho to make our way down the King’s Highway to Petra. This trip I had Jerash on my mind–a spectacularly intact Roman city that straddled a river and sat on top of Paleolithic, Neolithic, Bronze age and Greek civilizations, then came into its own under Roman rule. Come the weekend, I jumped on a public bus at Abdali station and drove straight back in time for 2000 years. You’re looking at Temple of Zeus remains through an arch of the magnificent South Amphitheater, which sat over 3000 people. Five hours of time immersion later, I was ready to eat and headed to the open air Royal Jordanian Restaurant on the southern edge of the city. “Please help yourself to our buffet,” Suleyman said. “Ah, but I’d really just like to refresh myself with soup and water.” “Soup? We don’t have soup–only in winter.” “Oh dear, no soup? No soup at all?” “Wait,” he said. “Sit. Be comfortable.” And in no time at all, he miraculously produced a bowl of Hisaa al tomatem, a light tomato soup stuffed with small spicy lamb meatballs. You can see how it sparkles. It’s easy and fast to make–why don’t you make some for lunch today?

Hisaa al tomatem (for 6)

1 lb. ground lamb or beef

2 Tablespoons minced parsley

2 Tablespoons minced onion

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon allspice

2 Tablespoons butter

1 pound crushed tomatoes (canned are fine)

4 cups light beef stock

1 cup cooked rice

1/2 cup chopped parsley

1/4 teaspoon allspice

salt and pepper to taste

Garnish: serve lemon slices on the side

Lightly knead the minced parsley and onion, the allspice and salt into the ground beef and shape into small balls. Fry in butter over medium heat for 5 minutes, then pour in the tomatoes and stock. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes. Add the cooked rice and simmer another 15 minutes. Stir in the allspice, salt and pepper to taste, and chopped parsley, cover, and cook 5 more minutes. Ladle into bowls and service with lemon slices on the side.

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October 7, 2008

Velouté de coco, with a Green Fairy twist

Filed under: Soup — pat @ 3:45 pm

Bean soup by any other name would smell as sweet

Hoping for a night of decadence

Brisk Friday night in Paris with woodsmoke in the air–Karen was on time, Barbara took the bus, Pat and Ana snaked thru 3 metro transfers to get to La Ferrandaise , just a few hops from the Sorbonne on the left bank. Absinthe on our minds. We’d been fantasizing all day, recalling the collective artistic madness this so-called Green Fairy spawned in the 19th and early 20th century. I said, “I’ll order soup so I can put this on my blog.” Fine, they said, now let’s order the Absinthe. So there you have it: a picture of the soup and a picture of the elaborate Absinthe apparatus.

What about La Ferrandaise (8 rue Vaugirard, former home of controversial author Knut Hamson)? Beef specialities from the Auvergne region of France. Nice atmosphere but a cranky staff and a menu with ups and downs, not as exciting as it was when Ana and Barbara first stumbled on it and its absinthe connection last year. The absinthe turned out to be a big glass of liquid licorice, pleasant–though no green fairies actually tapped us on our shoulders. Much stranger than the absinthe was the soup, Velouté de coco, julienne de concombre acidulée (take a breath), crouton au raifort. “It’s a cold soup,” the waitress said, clearly warning me off it. “I love cold soup,” I said. “Bring it on.” And she did…but it was hot. Imagine ceremonially pouring hot and creamy white bean soup over a bouquet of icy, marinated cucumber strips at table–and topping it with a crouton strip dabbed with horseradish.

Well, you know, here we are, four women all pooped out on a Friday night after an intense work week, being rushed through our decadent glasses of absinthe. I let it pass. But when the course was cleared, I asked why that cold soup was served hot. “The manager thought you’d like it better hot,” she said. “He was wrong.” I said. “I was disappointed.” No comment.

So no recipe for this one. Maybe it would have been quite nice cold. We’ll never know. But I can highly recommend a hot French white bean soup that I think you’d like, brought to you straight from Ernest Hemingway gallivanting through the Pyrenees, with or without his fave absinthe: Hemingway White Bean Soup.

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