Zucchini and Rosemary Soup: In Defense of Food

What do you do when someone in your family loathes a dish, but you adore it? Do you keep making it? Do you have pity and eliminate it from rotation? Do you keep a stash hidden in your toilet tank, to secretly parse out to yourself at random intervals?

What if you were a food blogger? What if you whipped up a soup (er … for example), and half of your crowd despised it like a despot, while the other half praised it like a prophet? Would you post it? Would you bury it in your archives, next to that Potato and Black Bean Pancakes recipe that tasted like the filling of a futon?

Here’s why I ask.

A few days ago, as part of our Eat Your Veggies Experiment, I fed Dustin and Linda each a bowl of Bon Appetit’s Zucchini and Rosemary Soup. They HATED it. Like, if Darth Vader served it to them on the flaming corpse of a dead bunny, they couldn’t have disliked it more.

In retrospect, I should have seen it coming. Neither of them are big zucchini fans, and the texture was a little too bizarre for such particular eaters. Dustin was most wary of the aftertaste, and my sister said it looked “like snot,” which … okay, point taken.

Thing was, I loved the soup. My lunch for the last three days has consisted of: the soup, a banana, and whatever random starch I dig out of my fridge door. And without hyperbolizing in the slightest, it’s made me the happiest I’ve ever been in my whole life.

Rachel loved it, too. Even Epicurious readers were cocoa for cuckoo poops about it, lavishing the recipe with a 92% approval rating. That’s better than both Southern Fried Chicken AND Chocolate Layer Cake with Milk Chocolate Frosting. So there you go.

Subsequently, I’m postin’ it. That’s right, punks. This thing is going up on the blog, about six inches below this very sentence. No one can stop me, except maybe a Sith lord and his fiery rabbit.

Of course, if you were to try it, know the following:

1) This was already a waggin-fraggin bargain, but will be much cheaper in two or three months, when zucchini is in season.

2) You could probably cut all the butter to make it even leaner, but it’s sterile and I like the taste. (What movie?)

3) I added croutons, but omitted the scallions and chunked zucchini. You can, too. Remember: cooking has no boundaries except those you impose on yourself. (And those that fire marshals impose upon you. Those are pretty important, too.)

Have a fabulous weekend, folks. Get outside if you can, and make this soup, too. The dislikers will get over it, and you’ll be happier in the end.

Zucchini and Rosemary Soup
Adapted from the Bon Appétit/Epicurious
Serves 8

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter, separated
1/2 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 large onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, sliced
2 teaspoons minced fresh rosemary
6 cups chicken stock or canned low-salt broth
1 russet potato, peeled, sliced
3 medium zucchini, thinly sliced
Salt and pepper to taste

1 zucchini, cut into 1/2-inch cubes (optional)
Croutons (optional)
Chopped green onions (optional)

In a big pot or Dutch oven, heat butter and oil over medium-high heat. When butter melts, add onion. Cook 5 minutes, until a little soft and translucent. Add garlic and rosemary. Stir. Add broth and potato. Jack heat up to high. Once it starts boiling, drop heat to medium-low and cook/simmer 10 minutes. Add the 3 sliced zucchinis. Cook another 15 minutes. (Zucchini should be tender at that point.) Puree, using either a regular blender or a stick blender. (Be super careful with the regular one, working in batches.) Salt and pepper to taste.

OPTIONAL (I didn't do this): "Cook cubed zucchini in saucepan of boiling salted water for 30 seconds. Drain. Rewarm soup over medium heat. Ladle into bowls. Top with zucchini and croutons. Sprinkle with green onions."

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
78 calories, 4 g fat, $0.78

Calculations
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter, separated: 204 calories, 23 g fat, $0.18
1/2 tablespoon vegetable oil: 66 calories, 7.5 g fat, $0.05
1 large onion, chopped: 63 calories, 0.2 g fat, $0.25
2 garlic cloves, sliced: 9 calories, 0 g fat, $0.10
2 teaspoons minced fresh rosemary: 2 calories, 0.2 g fat, $0.18
6 cups chicken stock or canned low-salt broth: 30 calories, 0 g fat, $2.25
1 russet potato, peeled, sliced: 168 calories, 0.2 g fat, $0.45
3 medium zucchini, thinly sliced: 94 calories, 1.2 g fat, $2.72
Salt and pepper to taste: negligible calories and fat, $0.02
TOTAL: 636 calories, 32.3 g fat, $6.20
PER SERVING (TOTAL/8): 78 calories, 4 g fat, $0.78

Black Bean Soup and The Daily Show: Delicious! Angry!

I usually write these posts well in advance. Today’s was to be about a recent dream in which Al Pacino stopped by to deliver cake to my sister. (“Everyday at 4:30, she passes my HOUSE, and she LOVES my CAKE! So I thought I’d bring her some HERE.”)

Then, this morning, I caught wind of last night’s Daily Show, where Jon Stewart’s sat down with CNBC’s Jim Cramer. And … whoa.

Backstory: Jon and Jim have been feuding all week, after a cohort of Cramer’s skipped a Daily Show interview. In response, TDS produced a blistering takedown of CNBC, essentially calling the channel a fraud. Cramer fired back, Jon fired back again, and it came to a head yesterday, when Cramer appeared on TDS for his own interview.

And by “interview,” I mean “public slaughter.” Just to give you an idea, here are a few choice quotes from Stewart:

“You know, we're both snake oil salesman to a certain extent, but we do label this show as snake oil here.”

“I got to tell you, I understand you want to make finance entertaining, but it's not a [expletive] game.”

And finally:

“What we are getting is, listen you knew what the banks were doing. And yet we're touting it for months and months. The entire network was. And so now to pretend that this was some sort of crazy, once in a lifetime tsunami that nobody could have seen coming is disingenuous at best and criminal at worst.”

Again, whoa.

Here’s the thing - Jon’s not blaming Cramer for the crash, nor is he attacking Cramer’s personal ethics. (Well, maybe a little) He’s attacking the competence of televised financial news, and Cramer was the only one to sack up and attempt to defend it. (Poorly. Oh-so-very poorly.)

Ideally, the prime responsibility of news organizations is to act as a watchdog for the public – to strive for objectivity (which doesn’t truly exist, but still), to be the fourth estate that Thomas Jefferson so eagerly promoted as a check/balance for government. Financial news, in particular, has to be extra-vigilant, as it ostensibly affects the well-being of millions.

CNBC failed at that. Really, it didn’t even try. Part of it is the nature of television. CNBC survives on ad dollars generated by ratings, and the easiest way for most cable TV channels to garner those ratings (Nickelodeon and ESPN aside) is through celebrity and shock value. So CNBC brings on the CEOs and the loud, flashy financial bigwigs. And they lob softball interview questions so they'll come back. And they tell the public, who has much less experience in economics, that these people are trustworthy, EVEN THOUGH CNBC KNOWS BETTER.

Stewart’s takedown is a few months (years) too late, and it's tinged with blamegame-ism, but it’s merited. Where were these guys when bad stuff was going down? Why didn’t they investigate? Why did they sidle up to industry bigwigs when they knew they were charlatans? It’s the same damn questions we asked of the news a few years ago when Hurricane Katrina hit, and it’s frustrating as hell to see it happen again.

So that’s my two cents. Readers, how about you?

Oh! Wait! But don’t go yet! There’s food. Namely, this black bean soup from Mark Bittman. It’s delicious! With a fried egg on top, it’s even better! Eat it! Happy weekend!

Black Bean Soup with Fried Egg
Adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman
Serves 4

1-1/2 tablespoons canola or olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 tablespoons chili powder, or more to taste
2 15-ounce cans black beans (or 3 cups cooked from dry), drained and rinsed
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
Juice of 1 lime, or to taste
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped

For garnish:
Sour cream or plain yogurt, or 4 eggs (1 egg per bowl)
If using eggs, 1 tablespoon olive oil

1) Heat 1-1/2 tablespoons of the oil in a heavy soup pot over medium heat. Add the onions and cook until softened, about 6 or 7 minutes. Stir in the garlic and chili powder and cook, stirring constantly, for an additional minute.

2) Add the beans, stock, and salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a gentle boil, then simmer, stirring occasionally, for 15-20 minutes.

3) If using eggs, heat an additional 1 tablespoon of oil in a non-stick skillet over medium-low heat in the meantime. Add the eggs, cover, and fry slowly until the whites are completely set and the yolk is to your liking.

4) To thicken the soup, purée it briefly with a stick blender, transfer half through food mill or into a blender, or just mash it by hand. Remove from the heat and add the lime juice. Adjust seasoning as necessary, garnish with cilantro and egg or yogurt or sour cream. Serve immediately.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
Plain soup: 258.5 calories, 6.3 g fat, $1.10
With one fried egg on top: 362 calories, 15 g fat, $1.25

Calculations for Plain Soup
1-1/2 tablespoons canola or olive oil: 179 calories, 20.2 g fat, $0.23
2 medium onions, chopped: 92 calories, 0.2 g fat, $0.53
2 cloves garlic, minced: 9 calories, 0 g fat, $0.09
1 1/2 tablespoons chili powder, or more to taste: 35 calories, 1.5 g fat, $0.06
2 15-ounce cans black beans, or 3 cups cooked from dry: 641 calories, 3.2 g fat, $1.50
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock: 67 calories, 0 g fat, $1.33
Juice of 1 lime, or to taste: 10 calories, 0 g fat, $0.33
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped: 1 calories, 0 g fat, $0.33
TOTAL: 1034 calories, 25.1 g fat, $4.40
PER SERVING (TOTAL/4): 258.5 calories, 6.3 g fat, $1.10

Calculations for Soup Plus Fried Egg
1 tablespoon olive oil: 119 calories, 13.5 g fat, $0.11
4 eggs: 296 calories calories, 20 g fat, $0.50
TOTAL: 415 calories, 33.5 g fat, $0.61
TOTAL PLUS SOUP: 1449 calories, 58.6 g fat, $5.01
PER SERVING WITH SOUP (TOTAL/4): 362 calories, 15 g fat, $1.25

City Kitchen Chronicles: Not Your (Well, My) Grandma’s Cabbage Soup

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

My grandmother died a few years ago, and it’s interesting what bits of life remind me of her. Thanksgiving’s transitioned from a huge affair crammed into her studio apartment to a holiday I associate with cooking in my mother’s kitchen, and for Passover the family’s now scattered to all corners of the Earth. But some things still always remind me of her. Namely, Scrabble and cabbage soup.

Grandma was a FIERCE Scrabble player. I never actually went up against the woman myself, but when I was twelve or so I played against my cousin, whom she’d taught, and damn. I consider my self a pretty word-smart person, but I got my rear kicked but good. It was only after Scrabulous took over Facebook that I got a hang of the strategies of the game. Every time I kick some rear myself now, I think of Grandma and how proud she’d probably be.

And then there’s cabbage soup. I don’t remember Grandma being a major cook, but this recipe, like her Scrabble prowess, is famous within our family. I remember my mom making this soup, having somehow gotten the recipe off her mother-in-law, and though it’s probably been fifteen years, I still remember how great it was – an old-world recipe full of beef bones and soup-plumped raisins, it was delicious, sweet and savory and an effective way to get a seven-year-old to eat – even love eating – cabbage.

And so just like when I’m clicking virtual Scrabble tiles around the internet, when I make my cabbage soup I think of my Grandma. Other than being a soup with cabbage in it, it’s nothing like her recipe – it’s vegan, for starters, and sour and spicy. There’s no delicious marrow to suck out of bones, just cubes of baked tofu soaking up the broth. But still, when I ladle the cabbagey broth into a bowl, I think of her. The thought actually forms as a silent “Hey Grandma.” Cause it’s always nice, once in a while, just to say hey.

I found this soup on the inimitable Vegan Yum Yum. I believe it was the soup that inaugurated last winter’s new (and my first) soup pot. I made several batches over the course of the cold months, to the point that I was only not-sick enough of it by last week to bring it back for this year. Lolo at Vegan Yum Yum claims to have just, like, thrown this soup together – “Today I found myself with a cute little organic cabbage in my refrigerator, but not much else. I also had some baked tofu and some carrots, and after looking in the fridge a million times, I had an idea for a soup.” Um, okay, genius girl. This thrown-together experiment turned out to be hella delicious – a little sweet, a little sour, a little spicy (or more, if you’re of a stronger constitution than I), it’s a veritable party in your mouth. Full of veggies, free of bad stuff, cheap, delicious, and easy.

I’ve made a couple of changes to Lolo’s recipe – She calls for carrots, but I don’t like cooked carrots, so I leave those out. I can’t bear to dirty my food processor pureeing a can of tomatoes, and couldn’t find cheap crushed tomatoes, so some tomato paste plus extra water does the trick. I’ve previously made this recipe with store-bought baked tofu, but this time I used TheKitchn’s guidelines to bake my own. Not as flavorful as store-bought, but much cheaper, and still better than plain.

Hot and Sour Cabbage Soup
Serves 6. 
Adapted from Vegan Yum Yum


1 tbs oil
1 small onion, minced
1 small cabbage, about the size of a grapefruit, cored and shredded
1 small can (about 6 tbs) tomato paste
7 1/4 cups water
1 package of tofu, baked w/ 1/4 c tamari
1/4 cup tamari, low sodium
1/4 cup rice vinegar
4 tsp sugar
(or replace rice vinegar and sugar with 1/3 cup seasoned rice vinegar)
1/2 - 1 tsp hot red chili flakes
1/2 tsp salt

1) In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat oil over medium heat. Add onion. Cook 6 to 10 minutes, until golden, stirring occasionally.

2) Add tomato paste to water, mixing well. (You can mix the paste into a smaller quantity of the water, say 1 cup, if that’s easier.)

3) Add tomato paste/water mix and cabbage to the pot and stir well.

4) Add tofu, tamari, vinegar, chili flakes and salt. Bring to a boil. Cover. Drop the heat to medium low. Simmer until cabbage is soft and ready to eat, about 20 minutes.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, and Price Per Serving
6 SERVINGS: 174 calories, 7 g fat, $0.89

Calculations
1 tbs oil: 120 calories, 13 g fat, $0.07
1 small onion, minced: 44 calories, 0 g fat, $0.30
1 small cabbage: 178 calories, 1 g fat, $1.20
1 small can (about 6 tbs) tomato paste: 81 calories, 0.5 g fat, $0.79
7 1/4 cups water: calorie- fat- and cost-free
1 package of tofu, pressed and baked: 513 calories, 28 g fat, $1.85
(1 package tofu, 1/4 c tamari)
1/4 cup tamari: 43 calories, 0 g fat, $0.36
1/4 cup rice vinegar: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.65
4 tsp sugar: 65 calories, 0 g fat, $0.05
1/2 - 1 tsp hot red chili flakes: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.02
1/2 tsp salt: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.02
TOTAL: 1044 calories, 42.5 g fat, $5.31
TOTAL/6: 174 calories, 7 g fat, $0.89

White Bean and Tarragon Soup: On Saving

Among other things, The Boyfriend and I are scraping money together for a wedding, a house, and a bed that doesn’t make us look like Will Ferrell from Elf. It’s tough sometimes, because certain necessities go unpurchased for months. I’ve needed new bras for awhile now, and my favorite pair of Cons is finally starting to wear through. And we won’t even discuss my adventures in discount hair color. We’ll just shake our fists at the sky and curse genetics for giving us our first gray hairs at 17.

Despite universal cutbacks (especially food, natch), most of the money we save comes from one place: our apartment. For the space, the rent is ridiculously low - about half of what I’ve paid for other, smaller places. It allows us to stash several hundred extra dollars a month into savings, which makes a gigundo difference in our bankrolls.

Sadly, accommodations-wise, we get what we pay for.

A 110-year-old Brooklyn "brownstone" (sarcastic quotes intentional) that hasn’t been updated in 109 years, our building’s located on a major highway, one house away from the ongoing construction of a 10-story condo unit. The walls are cracking, the linoleum is permanently stained, and I’m fairly sure the basement is the seventh circle of Hell. Our bedroom is alternately freezing and sweltering. There is a constant stream of litter on our front steps, thrown there by assorted lazy-ass Brooklynites. We had a hole in our ceiling for six months before the landlord acknowledged our existence. In the fall, the construction site started attracting rats, which made their way into our backyard. It’s since been fixed, but … RATS?!?!?! Jeez. Honestly, I have no idea how we’ve never had an insect problem, but everyday I knock on a million pieces of wood that it stays that way.

Despite this, our place is relatively warm and cozy, and we do the best we can with what we have. Ten years of post-collegiate furniture and décor helps, as does a positive outlook. Occasionally, though …

Look. Yesterday around 1pm, our ceiling started to leak. The upstairs neighbors’ toilet overflowed, and they couldn’t plunge fast enough. This was nothing new, and it only required a few buckets and two hours of constant surveillance on our end, but the leak was in our BEDROOM this time, perilously close to our tiny mattress. I almost lost it.

Because some days? Like today? When my PMS is particularly bad? I want a nice place RIGHT NOW. I want insulated windows and plumbing that’s been replaced since the Coolidge administration. I want a front door that locks ALL the time, not just when I put my back into it. I want a KitchenAid standmixer, or at least the room to store it.

But if I want it, and I want to stay debt-free and financially solvent, I can’t have it right now. I can have it in two or three years, when our savings culminates in a Place of Our Own. And that’s okay. It really is. I still splurge. I’m not living a life of denial or deprivation. Instead, I’m living a life of simplicity and moderation with occasional frustrated outbursts. And in the longterm, that’s a good thing, rats notwithstanding.

Oh – and the nice part of our current apartment? No matter what it looks like, our future house is going to seem like Xanadu.

Anyway, on to today’s meal: White Bean and Tarragon Soup, a lovely, savory alternative to the usual Tuscan White Bean variety. If you should make it (and you should), a few things to know:

1. Since tarragon has a very subtle anise flavor, the soup does, too. I DESPISE anise, but it melds incredibly well, especially by the next day. So don’t fear if you, too, are among the haters. You’ll like this.

2. I used Progresso cannellini beans, which my spellcheck switched to “cannelloni” every time I typed it. Weird.

3. There’s a little more fat than usual in this soup, but I bet you could lose a teaspoon of butter and two teaspoons of olive oil and be just fine. Also, the 12+ grams of fiber per serving should make up for it.

And that's it.

White Bean and Tarragon Soup
Serves 4
Adapted from Serious Eats, who got it from The Kitchen Diaries by Nigel Slater

2 19-oz cans white beans, drained and rinsed
3 bay leaves
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
5 scallions, roughly chopped
1 medium-sized carrot, peeled and finely chopped
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock (or 2 cans)
1/4 cup fresh tarragon, roughly chopped

1) To a large pot or Dutch oven, add butter and olive oil. Heat 'em both over medium heat until butter melts and just starts foaming. Add scallions. Cook 2 or 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add carrots and garlic. Cook about 5 minutes, until softened, stirring occasionally.

2) Add beans and stock. Turn heat to high. Once stock starts boiling, add bay leaves and tarragon. Drop heat to medium-low. Simmer 15 or 20 minutes, "until the beans are falling apart." Then, with a stick blender, regular blender, food mill, or potato masher, mash/puree soup until it reaches your desired consistency. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve with "remaining chopped tarragon, a drizzle of olive oil, and fresh black pepper."

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
328 calories, 9.1 g fat, $1.54

Calculations
2 19-oz cans white beans, drained and rinsed (I used Progresso cannellini beans): 899 calories, 0 g fat, $2.78
3 bay leaves: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.09
2 tablespoons butter: 201 calories, 22.6 g fat, $0.16
1 tablespoon olive oil: 118 calories, 13.4 g fat, $0.11
5 scallions: 40 calories, 0.3 g fat, $0.71
1 medium-sized carrot: 25 calories, 0.1 g fat, $0.10
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped: 4 calories, 0 g fat, $0.04
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock (or 2 cans): 20 calories, 0 g fat, $1.20
1/4 cup fresh tarragon, roughly chopped: ~6 calories, 0 g fat, $0.98
TOTAL: 1313 calories, 36.4 g fat, $6.17
PER SERVING (TOTAL/4): 328 calories, 9.1 g fat, $1.54

Quinoa Soup With Avocado and Corn: I Want to Go to There

Yesterday, Leigh threw out some much-deserved props for Tuesdays. Today, I’m giving it up for Thursdays. I LOVE Thursday nights, almost more than Sunday mornings. The work week’s almost over. I can have a glass of wine without feeling too guilty. And of course, 30 Rock and The Office are on.

I don’t watch crazy amounts of TV, but NBC’s Thursday nights are a must. It’s been that way since the ‘80s, when Bill Cosby took Rudy and Bud to see vaudeville genius Bill Irwin, and continued through the ‘90s, when Ross and Rachel sucked face in the rain outside of Central Perk. Now, Jim and Pam and Jack and Liz provide ample distraction from my work day, while Tracy and Dwight add a boatload of welcome absurdity.

And man, if last night don’t beat all. First, “IT IS YOUR BIRTHDAY” and “That’s how I got Squeaky Fromme.” Then, Alec Baldwin’s abuela seduction and a guest appearance by Jon “Cartoon Pilot” Hamm. (Incidentally - WOW, that guy is handsome. I’d like to invite him to a pants party, if you catch my drift.) It was a dang near perfect hour, marred only slightly by 30 Rock’s finance guy interns. They reminded me greatly of an ex-boyfriend, from the excessive drinking to the hockey obsession. If they’d started playing James Bond video games, I might have had an aneurysm.

Anyway, all this Thursday night wonder went down while I was enjoying a lovely bowl of the Seattle Times’ Quinoa Soup with Avocado and Corn, suggested by CHG reader AJP. (Thanks, Alicia!) Quickly prepared and super-filling, it’s a faboo Mexican-tinged after-work soup, and pairs well with a Corona and/or a Liz Lemon one-liner. You might be tempted to leave out the lime, but don’t. It brightens everything up, and can be used in your beer afterward.

P.S. When you guys say the word “quinoa” (keen-wa) out loud, does it remind you of the song “Sadness” by ‘90s group Enigma? (The one with the monks?) To me, it always sounds like the main singer is saying, “Sad. Quinoa.” But I could be taking crazy pills.

Quinoa Soup With Avocado and Corn
Makes 4 servings
Adapted from J.M. Hirsch at The Seattle Times, who got it from Lorna Sass' Whole Grains for Busy People

4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1 cup quinoa
1 cup frozen corn kernels
1/3 cup chunky salsa, to taste
1 ripe but firm Hass avocado, diced
Salt
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
Lime wedges, for serving

1) In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat broth over high until it comes to a boil. Add quinoa. Drop heat to medium-high. Cook (still boiling) 15 minutes.

2) Add corn and salsa. Stir. When it comes back up to a simmer, kill the heat. Remove the pot from the burner. Add avocado. Stir gently. Salt and pepper to taste. Add cilantro. Stir again. Serve with lime wedges.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, and Price Per Serving
298 calories, 10 g fat, 7.2 g fiber, $1.25

Calculations
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth: 67 calories, 0 g fat, 0 g fiber, $1.33
1 cup quinoa: 636 calories, 9 g fat, 10 g fiber, $1.38
1 cup frozen corn kernels: 133 calories, 1.1 g fat, 3.9 g fiber, $0.40
1/3 cup chunky salsa, to taste: 23 calories, 0.2 g fat, 1.4 g fiber, $0.33
1 ripe but firm Hass avocado, diced: 322 calories, 29.5 g fat, 13.5 g fiber, $0.99
Salt: 0 calories, 0 g fat, 0 g fiber, $0.01
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro: 1 calories, 0 g fat, 0.1 g fiber, $0.49
Lime wedges, for serving: 10 calories, 0.1 g fat, 0 g fiber, $0.08
TOTAL: 1192 calories, 39.9 g fat, 28.9 g fiber, $5.01
PER SERVING (TOTAL/4): 298 calories, 10 g fat, 7.2 g fiber, $1.25

Veggie Might: Abashed Broccoli Soup

Penned by the effervescent Leigh, Veggie Might is a weekly Thursday column about the wide world of Vegetarianism.

I am a woman who can admit when she’s wrong (most of the time). Last week, I admonished anyone who would consider making vegetable stock with “a floppy rib of celery” or any other old vegetables. You were quick to tell me that I was being silly and wasteful.

Well, I’m here to eat my words—and a bunch of borderline broccoli.

While I was in Baltimore last week, I left a beautiful, deep green head of broccoli in the vegetable crisper to wilt and yellow. When I discovered it upon my return, it almost killed my nearly week-old post-inaugural buzz. Oh, the waste!

I had a week’s worth of lunches to make, and with all the vegetable stock in my fridge and freezer, I had soup on my mind. The broccoli smelled fine, and I couldn’t bear to throw it out. There were no bad spots; it had just lost its color. I swallowed my fear of salmonella and began chopping.

The stems were tougher than usual, so I peeled off the thick outer layer. Otherwise, the whole yellowed mess of it went into the pot. Once it hit the boiling broth, it magically began to turn green again. And with the shallots and garlic, it smelled so good.

The proof was in the puree, and the puree was delicious. The little bit of soy milk gave it just a touch of creaminess without being heavy. The parsley and thyme added a fresh flavor and, of course, you can’t miss with shallots and garlic. There is nothing showy about broccoli soup. It is just simple, light, and delicious:

So far, I’ve served it over quinoa and solo to great success. (I was happy both times I ate it, and no food poisoning to report.) My roommate is out of town, or I would have made him be my royal taster. He’s got a nose (and stomach) for these things.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for the lesson in humility. Because of you, I took a chance on a peaked bunch of broccoli that would have otherwise gone in the garbage. I am richer for your comments. Plus, you saved me a $1.50; and in These Trying Economic Times, every little bit counts.

Puree of Broccoli Soup
Yields approximate 4 1-cup servings

1 1/2 tsp olive oil
5 1/2 cups vegetable stock
1/2 cup unsweetened soy milk
l large head broccoli, chopped florets and stems (peeled)
3 cloves garlic, crushed and minced
2 shallots (4 cloves), diced
6 sprigs fresh thyme
15 sprigs fresh parsley
1 tsp salt
40 grinds black pepper

1) In a large sauce pan, sauté shallots and garlic in oil for 2–3 minutes.

2) Add the broth and bring to a boil.

3) Add chopped broccoli, thyme, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil once again. Reduce heat and simmer over medium heat for 20–30 minutes or until broccoli is tender.

4) Stir in soy milk and parsley.

5) Remove from heat and allow to cool.

6) Puree the soup until smooth with an immersion blender or traditional blender/food processor.

7) Serve hot with crusty bread or over quinoa/rice/grain of your choice.

8) Seriously, so good over quinoa. Or just by itself. Mmm...

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price per Serving
124.2 calories, 2.9g fat, $.98

Calculations
1 1/2 tsp olive oil: 60 calories, 7g fat, $0.04
5 1/2 cups vegetable stock: 110 calories, .5g fat, $1.04
1/2 cup unsweetened soy milk: 35 calories, 2g fat, $.20
1 large head broccoli: 207 calories, 2g fat, $1.50
3 cloves garlic: 12.6 calories, 0g fat, $.036
2 shallots: 60 calories, 0g fat, $.40
6 sprigs fresh thyme: 5 calories, 0g fat, $.09
15 sprigs fresh parsley: 7 calories, 0g fat, $.26
1 tsp salt: negligible calories and fat, $.02
40 grinds black pepper: negligible calories and fat, $.02
Total: 496.6 calories, 11.5g fat, $3.93
Per serving: 124.2 calories, 2.9g fat, $.98

Veggie Might: Homemade Vegetable Stock and a Fresh Start

Written by the fabulous Leigh, Veggie Might is a regular Thursday feature about all things Vegetarian. This week, it's coming a day early in celebration of the new administration. Today's regularly scheduled article will appear tomorrow.

(Editor’s note: At this article’s filing, I’m in Baltimore/DC and may just be a little swept up in Change.)

It occurred to me that I’ve used homemade vegetable stock in my last few CHG recipes. It’s not the sexiest recipe I can share with you, but it’s one of the most practical, useful, and economical things you’ll ever make, use, and love.

In the spirit of These Trying Economic Times and The New Days Ahead, we can make change possible by casting aside the bullion and canned broth of the past. We can cast off the shackles of sodium and MSG that have been raising our blood pressure. We can create from whole vegetables and herbs a brew that tastes and smells of home and garden, not of the agri-industrial complex. And we can make this for less than 20 cents a serving.

There are as many takes on vegetable stock as there are cooks in the firmament; there is no right or wrong way to make it. Whatever veggies you like are the veggies you should use. Most western cooks agree that a few carrots, a potato, an onion, a couple ribs of celery, and a generous bunch of parsley are essential. After that, it’s up to you and your taste buds.

I like to use parsnips and turnips in my stock, as well as garlic and leeks. Generally, I’ll add thyme (fresh if I have it, dried if I don’t) and a couple bay leaves too. I prefer sea salt, though many cooks recommend soy sauce, and whole black peppercorns to round out the seasoning.

The first time I made stock, I followed the directions in Moosewood New Classics, which differs not much at all from any of the countless recipes you would find on the Internet. The only major difference is what not to include. The Moosewood editors suggest you avoid tomatoes, broccoli, or any acidic vegetables in your stock. Everyone linked above disagrees, so throw in whatever you want to your heart’s and vegetable crisper’s desire.

There is a misconception out there that I feel I should address. I held this belief, too, until a bad batch set me straight: stock should be made with veggies you wouldn’t eat otherwise. Wrong! If you make your stock with questionable veggies, you will have questionable stock. You don’t have to perfectly dice your potatoes and carrots, but you definitely want to avoid that floppy rib of celery and slimy parsley that’s ready for the compost pile.

The debate about the difference between stock and broth rages, but they are mainly the same. Call it what you like, but ultimately you want your base to be versatile. If it’s over seasoned, or particularly seasoned, its uses are limited.

Your homemade stock/broth will be so much healthier than any canned version you can buy, plus you can rescue some of the veggies to get even more bang for your pennies. I use the carrots, parsnips, potatoes, and turnips to make soup or a mashed root veg side dish.

I couldn’t use my normal methods for evaluating the calorie/fat content of the homemade stock, since the veggies are not eaten, only stewed. I checked out a few sites, found the nutritional content of the recipes, and took the mean: 23 calories per cup, 0.1g fat.

You may want to add olive oil to your stock. Sometimes I do; sometimes I forget. This batch, because I used a few more ingredients than last time, came out to about 19 cents per serving. (I also made two gallons, but I adjusted the recipe for 2 quarts. Not everyone uses stock at the rate I do.)

So, with a sense of Purpose and the Mantle of Inspiration, take these tips and make stock. Fortify yourselves and your families to face the challenges that lie ahead. Healthy bodies and healthy minds working together will make change happen and always Love You Back.

Homemade Vegetable Stock
Makes 2 quarts (8 1-cup servings)

8 1/2 cups water
2 large carrots
2 ribs celery with leaves
1 parsnip
1 medium turnip
1 medium potato
1 medium onion
1 leek
3-4 cloves garlic
1 small bunch parsley (about 1 oz by weight)
1 tsp dried thyme
1 bay leaf
1 tsp black peppercorns
2 tsp sea salt

1) Scrub all veggies. I only peel the turnips, but do what feels good to you.

2) Slice the carrots and parsnips into discs, quarter potato and turnip, coarsely dice celery, onion, and leek, and chop parsley, stems and all.

3) Put 8 cups of cold water in a stock pot or large dutch oven. Add all vegetables and seasonings.

4) Over high heat, bring just to a simmering boil, reduce heat, and continue to simmer for at least 1 hour, 2 if you have the time.

5) After 2 hours, turn off heat, cover and allow stock to continue to brew as it cools.

6) You can use immediately, refrigerate for up to a week, or freeze for 2 to 3 months.

7) Make soup, etc. to your heart’s content.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price per Serving
15 calories, .1g fat, $.185

Calculations
2 large carrots: $.36
2 ribs celery with leaves: $.11
1 parsnip: $.18
1 medium turnip: $.10
1 medium potato: $.19
1 medium onion: $.12
1 leek: $.12
3¬–4 cloves garlic: $.03
1 small bunch parsley (about 1 oz by weight): $.19
1 tsp dried thyme : $.02
1 bay leaf: $.02
1 tsp black peppercorns: $.02
2 tsp sea salt: $.02
Total Price: $1.48
Price per Serving: $.185

City Kitchen Chronicles: Lentil Soup and Righting Wrongs

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

About nine-tenths of the way through making this recipe, I was despairing. Rather than the delicious soup that I nearly lived on last winter, I was stirring a pot of tomato paste-flavored lentils. It was pretty gross.

What had gone wrong? This was already a day of things-going-wrong, a general wrong-side-of-the-bedness, but I’d hoped that returning to a favorite, healthy recipe would pull me out of the funk, not sink me deeper. I wondered if the crushed tomatoes the recipe called for were too pasty, if I’d previously made it (incorrectly, but fortuitously) with diced. I’d followed the recipe to the letter, plus the secret ingredient I remembered stumbling upon last year. So what was wrong? What a waste of food! Waaah!

Then it popped into my head, the second secret ingredient I’d used before, and I added it, and holy moly, there we were.

Turns out I was despairing at the nine-tenths mark because I thought I was done, and I was wrong.

I don’t know how this recipe can be thought to work as written. It comes from the usually-genius 101 Cookbooks, but without these two additions, it tastes like tomato paste and lentils. That’s not a good combination. Using fire-roasted tomatoes helps, when you’ve got a few extra cents to spare, but even still. Without the additions I not pledge never to forget, I don’t get it.

I don’t mean to be ramping up some anticipation for my announcement of these amazing secret ingredients or anything, but:

Balsamic vinegar and cumin.

That’s what they are. They turn this soup into a sweet, savory, complex, earth-shakingly delicious bowl. And it’s already super-healthy, full of fiber and vegetables and good lentily protein.

And as long as you don’t get yourself down mid-recipe, this soup will turn your day around.

A couple of notes, other than DON’T FORGET THE CUMIN – I used chard, and rather than discarding the veins and stalks, chopped them up and added them to the soup. Why waste perfectly good veggie parts? Also, the recipe calls for 1 big can of crushed tomatoes, but I think it’d be good, maybe better, with 1 small can crushed and 1 small can diced – I miss tomato chunks. Fire-roasted if you’ve got ‘em. And my chard was hella expensive, so unless you decide to buy greens at Whole Foods, your cost will likely be less.

Make-Your-Day-Better Lentil Soup
Serves 6
Adapted from 101 Cookbooks.

2 cups black beluga lentils (or green French lentils), picked over and rinsed
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
2 cups water
3 cups of a big leafy green (chard, kale, etc), rinsed well, deveined, finely chopped (stalks, too)
3 T Balsamic vinegar (or to taste)
1 t cumin (or to taste)

1) To a medium pot or Dutch oven, add 6 cups water. Boil. Add lentils. Cook until tender, around 20 minutes or so. Drain and walk away.

2) While the lentils are boiling, get out a large pot or Dutch oven. Heat oil over medium heat. Add onion and salt. Cook 4 to 5 minutes, until onions are a little soft and translucent, stirring occasionally. 

3) If you’re using your greens’ stalks (and do, especially with chard!), add them and sauté a couple more minutes.

4) Add tomatoes, lentils, and 2 cups water. Cook until soup is simmering again.

5) Add vinegar and cumin. Stir.

6) Add chopped greens/chard. Stir. Cook 1 minute. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
282.5 calories, 3.6 g fat, $1.18

Calculations
2 cups lentils: 1200 calories, 8 g fat, $1.50
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil: 139 calories, 13 g fat, $0.12
1 large onion: 45 calories, 0 g fat, $0.25
1 teaspoon salt: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.01
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes: 151 calories, 0.8 g fat, $1.59
2 cups water: free!
3 cups chard: 130 calories, 0 g fat $2.99
3 T Balsamic vinegar: 30 calories, 0 g fat, $0.30
1 t cumin: 0 calories, 0 g fat, $0.30
TOTAL: 1695 calories, 21.8 g fat, $7.06
PER SERVING (TOTAL/6): 282.5 calories, 3.6 g fat, $1.18

Tomato and Bread Soup: Raising a Bowl to Sully

I have a theory that everyone in America has at least one friend named Sully. (Also, if you are between the ages of 27 and 34, you know 30,000 Jens.) Sully’s a genial guy. Likes beer. Probably has a big ol’ dog. Maybe he’s married and has a just-as-genial wife. (Who, for some reason, is always 4’10”.)

If you didn’t know a Sully before, you do now. You were officially introduced to him last night: Chesley B. "Sully" Sullenberger, a.k.a. The Guy That Landed a Presumably Doomed Plane Full of Scared People Safely in a Frozen Hudson River. Put simply, Sully is a stud. A playa. The Chairman of the Awesome. And I’m betting his retirement package just got about 1,000,000% better.

Today then, we’re dedicating Serious Eats/Jamie Oliver’s Tomato and Bread Soup (Pappa al Pomodoro) to Sully. Because a guy like that deserves a soup like this. It’s one of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of making, and I’m not terribly crazy about tomato soup in the first place.

About it: a combination of roasted cherry tomatoes and good canned tomatoes makes a wonderful base, and a handful of basil adds a fragrant sweetness. And the bread? Ohhhhh …. the bread. Added at the very last minute, it thickens the soup beautifully, making it much more filling than it would have been otherwise. The Boyfriend had three bowls for dinner. If I wasn’t on Weight Watchers (*sigh*), I would have had four, and then eaten him for good measure.

Even better, a 1-1/2 cup serving is a mere 8 grams of fat and 204 calories. Jamie/SE’s recipe called for quite a bit more olive oil, but halving it didn’t affect the soupy goodness in the least. It lowered the price, too, which ... welll …

About that price.

Here’s the thing: the cost for this dish will vary wildly depending on the season, the brand of canned tomatoes, and whether you use a Trader Joe’s gift certificate you got for Christmas to purchase 30% of the goods. Total, everything cost me a little over $5, but it would have been closer to $8 if the cherry tomatoes weren’t free. Then again, it would have cost $6 if I bought the cherry tomatoes, but didn’t have a coupon for the canned tomatoes. Then again again, it would have been $4 if I’d bought the cherry tomatoes AND had the canned tomatoes coupon, but didn’t buy the most expensive basil in measurable history.

So.

This is what we’re gonna do: I’m gonna list what I actually paid for it. Depending on your geographical location, the number may be waaaaay off, but I’m rolling Sully-style today.

Speaking of our beloved pilot, don’t forget to raise a glass (or a bowl) for him today. He’s done the name Sully good.

Tomato and Bread Soup (Pappa al Pomodoro)
Makes 4 servings of 1-1/2 cup each
Adapted from Serious Eats and jamieoliver.com.

12 oz. cherry tomatoes, each one pricked once or twice with a toothpick
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely sliced
a large bunch of fresh basil, leaves picked, stalks finely chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
28 ounces canned tomatoes
2 large handfuls of stale good-quality bread, torn into chunks (about 1/3 large baguette)

1) Preheat oven to 350ºF.

2) In a medium bowl, combine cherry tomatoes, 1 clove garlic, 1 tablespoon olive oil, and 5 large basil leaves. Stir. Pour on baking sheet or roasting pan. Roast 20 minutes, until tomatoes are "collapsed and slightly shrunken."

3) In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium heat. Add basil stalks and other 2 cloves of garlic. Cook 2 minutes, stirring occasionally. Pour in canned tomatoes (undrained), and "additional half can full of water." Jack the heat up to high. While mixture is coming to a boil, break the tomatoes up with a wooden spoon or good set of kitchen shears. Once it starts boiling, drop heat to medium-low and cook 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

4) After 15 minutes, add bread and remaining basil, chopped. (You can leave some basil for garnish if you like.) Then, add roasted tomatoes (which should be out of the oven by now). Stir everything together, very gently, so bread won't disintegrate. If you like the consistency, serve. If not, cook a few more minutes to reduce.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
204 calories, 8 g fat, $1.26

Calculations
12 oz. cherry tomatoes: 110 calories, 0 g fat, FREE (gift certificate)
3 cloves of garlic: 13 calories, 0 g fat, $0.12
Large bunch of fresh basil: 11 calories, 0.3 g fat, $2.49 (!!!!!!)
2 tablespoons olive oil: 239 calories, 27 g fat, $0.22
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper: 1 calories, 0 g fat, $0.02
28 ounces canned tomatoes: 151 calories, 0.8 g fat, $1.25
2 large handfuls of stale good-quality bread: 290 calories, 4 g fat, $0.93
TOTAL: 815 calories, 32.1 g fat, $5.03
PER SERVING (TOTAL/4): 204 calories, 8 g fat, $1.26

City Kitchen Chronicles: Potato Leek Soup with Kale

City Kitchen Chronicles is a bi-weekly column about living frugally in Manhattan. It's penned by the lovely Jaime.

Since cleaning up my apartment a few weeks ago for my birthdahousewarming party, I’ve been eager to get people in here. My dad’s actually never seen my apartment, and that’s in the works, but this past weekend I had the pleasure of a sleepover with my on-break-from-college sister, M.

I had a pair of tickets to a play Sunday night, so when I was home for Chinese food and a movie over Christmas (I’m not kidding – we actually do this, and we’re not the only ones – it’s a fun cliché!), I offered my spare ticket to M, and invited her to stay over. (Maybe the best perk about working in theatre is that most offices, including mine, close down between Christmas and New Year’s.) “Is there anything else you want to do in the city?” We grew up, and my mom still lives, just a short drive into the suburbs, but I could still pretend to be tour guide to my bumpkin sister. She said, “I’ve never been to MoMA.” And thus the plan was set.

Tickets to the lovely Museum of Modern Art run a cool $20, and not as a suggested donation like at the Met or the Museum of Natural History, but a for-real twenty bucks, but here’s where luck keeps this expedition frugal – I have two friends who work at the museum, and MoMA staff can add anyone they like to a guest list for free admission.

Whew.

But to backtrack, before M and I, and every tourist in the city (including half the population of France) made our way through the art, there was Sunday night. In our back-and-forth phone calls of prep (“Do you have a blanket?” “Yes.” “Do you need allergy pills for the cats?” “Yes.”) I asked M what she wanted to do for dinner. We could eat down by the theatre, or she could eat before driving to me, and then we could just head down for the play…

“I want you to cook something.”

You cook one Thanksgiving from some simple-but-family-impressing recipes, and suddenly you have a reputation.

Unfortunately, the thing M didn’t realize is that when I’m not cooking from mom-shopped recipes, with their vanilla beans and such, I cook food that *I* find tasty, but that is rarely pretty and certainly unimpressive. I couldn’t afford anything fancy, and I couldn’t really bear to serve rice and beans, no matter how delicious and veggie-laden, to a guest.

Luckily I had a new-to-me, super-tasty, and dirt-cheap recipe up my sleeve. I hit the farmers market for $3 of ingredients, borrowed my friend K’s immersion blender (having suffered half a blender’s worth of soup all over my kitchen and clothing on my first attempt), and set to work.

Although this soup is simple, it’s delicious. It tastes to me like mashed potato soup, the best, smoothest mashed potatoes ever. M was a big fan of the accidental potato chunks left after the blending, and I was, too. I added kale for some extra nutritional oomph, and, just like it works in mashed potatoes, it was delicious here. M thought the kale would work better in smaller pieces, and I agreed.

After M. left, I talked to my mom. I told her that I’d cooked potato leek soup with kale for our dinner, and she was surprised. “That sounds very adventurous for M!” I don’t actually think it was – I’d run the kale idea by M and she’d been very enthusiastic – but either way, I cooked for my sister, she thought it was delicious, and my heart felt a little bit more full.

Potato Leek Soup with Kale
serves 4-6

2 T olive oil
1 bunch leeks, white and light green parts only, cut lengthwise and then into ¼” slices
pinch salt
1-2 cloves garlic (optional)
2 c yellow potatoes, cubed
4 c vegetable broth (I use water and Better than Bouillon
1 c water (or to taste)
pepper, to taste
6 c kale, torn into small pieces
1 T olive oil
salt

1) Heat the olive oil in a big soup pan over medium heat. Add leeks, salt, and garlic. Sautee until leeks are tender, about ten minutes.

2) Add potatoes and broth, plus some water if your broth is very salty or strong. Simmer for 20 minutes.

3) While soup is cooking, saute kale in olive oil in another pan, over medium heat, with salt to taste, until it’s your preferred doneness. More salt with help with bitterness, as will more cooking. Fresh kale can be tastier with less cooking than supermarket kale (as I was sad to learn).

4) (optional) Puree all or some of the soup with an immersion blender. Or, very carefully, puree cooled soup, in batches, in a regular blender. MAKE SURE THE BASE IS SECURELY ATTACHED. Trust me.

5) Mix kale into soup, or serve in a separate bowl, allowing guests or potentially picky sisters to add as much or as little as they like. Add salt and pepper to taste. (This soup does well with a lot of pepper.)

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
Serving four: 246.5 calories, 11 g fat, $1.20
Serving six: 164 calories, 7.5 g fat, $0.80

Calculations
3 T olive oil: 417 calories, 40.5 g fat, $0.36
1 bunch leeks: 109 calories, 0.5 g fat, $2.50
2 cloves garlic: 8 calories, 0 g fat, $0.08
2 c yellow potatoes: 231 calories, 0.5 g fat, $0.60
4 t Better than Bouillon: 20 calories, 0 g fat, $0.74
5 c water: 0 calories, 0 fat, free!
salt and pepper: negligible calories and fat, $0.04
6 c kale: 201 calories, 3 g fat, $0.50
TOTAL: 986 calories, 44.5 g fat, $4.82
PER SERVING (TOTAL/4): 246.5 calories, 11 g fat, $1.20
PER SERVING (TOTAL/6): 164 calories, 7.5 g fat, $0.80

Red Lentil Soup with Lemon, India, and Breakfast

In the beginning of the year, my friend S and I took a ten-day trek through northwest India. It was a whirlwind cultural education, and we walked away with one overarching impression: India is a country of contrasts.

Here's why: we saw small, indestructible Tata Indicas (cars) share roads with camels dragging wooden carts. We saw gleaming, fortress-like gas stations in the middle of towns that hadn’t been rebuilt since the 19th century. We saw the grand beauty of the Taj Mahal, less than two streets away from preschool-aged beggars. We saw modern, fashionable urban New Delhi women standing next to shorter, sari-clad traditionalists, probably waiting for the same bus. And everything – everything - we saw was mushed together in one big Indian melting pot. Really, it was pretty nuts.

(Note: We DIDN’T see any discernible traffic regulations. Seriously, the driving laws there would make a New York cabbie’s head explode.)

And though we got to see things beyond our wildest Long Island-shaped imaginations, one experience still sticks out the most. And it has to do with lentils.

One night, we stayed in a very small, rundown village, surrounded by acres of mustard fields. We had seen poorer towns, but this seemed worse off than the others – the livestock was particularly emaciated, the buildings, especially dilapidated, and a stream of sewage water ran through the center of it all.

Our guide was a local boy, who led us to a potter and his family, tending to their wares on a rooftop. The children were small, the men were quiet, and the women were sweet, smiling and concealing themselves behind light veils. They didn’t seem any wealthier than the other townspeople, but we were offered breakfast almost immediately. A woman held out a plate of dal and chapati (lentils and bread) for us, along with a cup of water. Having just eaten, both S and I politely refused, thanking her profusely.

Then, she turned around and placed the dish in front of her child, a four-or-so-year-old boy in dusty corduroys and the universal v-necked sweater. Slowly, we realized it was his breakfast.

To repeat, THE NICE INDIAN LADY OFFERED US HER HUNGRY CHILD’S BREAKFAST.

It took us a few minutes to realize the fact, and we were both pretty gobsmacked for awhile thereafter. But for me, that was India in a nutshell: no matter the craziness of a situation, the locals always demonstrated kindness and unrivaled hospitality. It’s like this underlying current of Indian goodwill that I sometimes wonder if we possess here in America. It’s pretty sweet.

Anyway, that’s my lentil story. And to go with it, I present Red Lentil Soup with Lemon, suggested by occasional contributor Rachel and lifted from The New York Times. This is GOOD STUFF. It’s freezable (I think), fairly quick to make, and great for lunch the next day. Plus, the lemon and cilantro give it a clean, perky flavor I don’t usually associate with lentil soup.

It’s a soup of contrasts, you could say. And from what I’ve seen, that’s always good.

Red Lentil Soup With Lemon
Adapted from The New York Times.
Makes 4 2-cup servings or 8 1-cup servings

1-1/2 tablespoons olive oil, more for drizzling
1 large onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, more to taste
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
Pinch of ground chili powder or cayenne, more to taste
1 quart chicken or vegetable broth
2 cups water
1 cup red lentils
1 large carrot, peeled and diced
Zest of ½ lemon
Juice of 1/2 lemon, more to taste
3 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro

1) In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat oil over high heat. When very hot, add onion and garlic. Cook about 4 minutes, until onion is golden (but not burnt), stirring occasionally. Add tomato paste, cumin, salt, black pepper and chili powder/cayenne. Stir until combined. Cook 2 more minutes, stirring occasionally. Add broth, water, lentils, carrot, and zest. Stir. Once it begins to simmer, reduce heat to medium-low. Cover pot about 3/4 of the way. Cook around 30 minutes or until lentils are tender and edible. Salt to taste.

2) Puree half the soup with a regular or stick blender. If using the regular blender, pour puree back into pot when finished. Add lemon juice and cilantro. Stir. Serve, with olive oil on top if you like.

Approximate Calories, Fat, and Price Per Serving
Four 2-cup servings: 261 calories, 5.7 g fat, $1.01Eight 1-cup servings: 131 calories, 2.8 g fat, $0.50

Calculations
1-1/2 tablespoons olive oil, more for drizzling: 179 calories, 20.2 g fat, $0.18
1 large onion: 63 calories, 0.1 g fat, $0.25
2 garlic cloves: 9 calories, 0 g fat, $0.08
1 tablespoon tomato paste: 13 calories, 0.1 g fat, $0.09
1 teaspoon ground cumin: negligible calories and fat, $0.01
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, more to taste: negligible calories and fat, $0.01
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper: negligible calories and fat, $0.01
Pinch of ground chili powder or cayenne, more to taste: negligible calories and fat, $0.01
1 quart chicken or vegetable broth: 67 calories, 0 g fat, $1.33
1 cup red lentils: 678 calories, 2 g fat, $1.10
1 large carrot: 30 calories, 0.2 g fat, $0.19
Zest of ½ lemon: negligible calories and fat, free (came with juice)
Juice of 1/2 lemon, more to taste: 6 calories, 0 g fat, $0.33
3 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro: negligible calories and fat, $0.45
TOTAL: 1045 calories, 22.6 g fat, $4.04
PER SERVING (TOTAL/4): 261 calories, 5.7 g fat, $1.01
PER SERVING (TOTAL/8): 131 calories, 2.8 g fat, $0.50