More soup-er soup
(why, yes, I do have a weakness for bad puns)
Yesterday I read this little gem of food writing by Priyanka Mattoo which contains this lovely passage:
“We were surrounded by recipe books from all over the world, but they served less as scripture than as springboards for ideas. The north star in my mother’s kitchen is to wake up identifying the exact combination of flavors you wanted to eat that day, and to create them by sight and sense.”
As someone currently surrounded by cookbooks, I love this! In fact, I did something like that a few days ago: it’s been a busy week, and a little colder each day. I’ve not felt much like cooking. But that morning, I’d stopped by the best little hole-in-the-wall (quite literally) neighbourhood veggie shop. The bright-blue painted doors only open in the morning and evening, so if you see something you want, best grab it now.
And of course my mind goes to soup.
Random purchases, based on what looks good and what I want to eat more than what necessarily goes together: something that looks like a radish but is huger than one should be (see above), bright carrots, handfuls of fresh pea-pods, and a single attractive, shiny eggplant. I still didn’t really want to cook that evening, but I chopped it all up, along with what I had to hand—onions, garlic, a few tomatoes—and rosemary and basil from the balcony pots.
It cooked down to a simple, soothing soup that was just what I needed. The eggplant and tomatoes dissolved completely, not individually distinguishable but adding to the general umami and making the broth fuller, a little creamier. That large thing sure tasted very much like a spicy radish when I tried it raw (do they really grow this big?) and I added a few slices to my everlasting pickle jar, too. Cooked, mellowed, it was a nice partner to the carrots.
Sure, I love trying new and interesting recipes, but sometimes you just need to throw a bunch of vegetables and herbs into a pot with some bouillon cubes and salt and pepper and call it a day. Small effort, big reward: warming and comforting and cozy. Never the same twice. This one, I’ve eaten every day since. A little orzo added in, or a slice of bread alongside, and it’s a meal. My own mother’s chicken soup is probably my favourite of all all soups, but that involves planning, time. And a whole chicken.
Sometimes you just need easy.
I would love to hear about an easy comfort food of yours.