When I’m back in Dallas, the first thing I want is a taco. Likewise, within hours of landing at Charles de Gaulle, after I’ve had a double espresso and a pain au chocolat from the boulangerie across the street and unpacked my bags, I want onion soup.

Especially when it’s cold outside, as you’ve no doubt heard me rant about lately.

X and I have been going to the same neighborhood brasserie for onion soup for years, Le Malakoff, which happens to have one of the nicest views of La Tour E. We came here when I first moved to Paris more than five years ago, and after trying soupe à l’oignon at other places, we both decided that this was one of the best. A five-minute walk from our apartment, it’s certainly the most convenient.

Rose likes this place, too. The waiters bring her bowls of ice (she thinks it’s a treat), and they all stop by the table to say bonjour. (Cowgirl Tip: The quickest way to melt icy Parisians is to have a cute dog in tow.)

The truth is I’ve been lazy when it comes to onion soup.  I haven’t even tried to make it because it’s just right there, down the street. But when a friend of mine in Dallas told me recently that he wanted to make some, I decided to get into the kitchen and figure it out.

Not that there’s much figuring to do. Onion soup is one of the simplest of soups around. Just stock, onions, along with some bread and cheese.

But for the soup to be worth anything, you must make your own stock. And you must take the time – over an hour – to slowly caramelize the onions. If you don’t, just forget it. It’s not going to taste like it should. It won’t have the richness – or the deep brown color – that onion soup is known for.

So do what I do. Make your stock one day (which sounds more daunting than it is –after you roast the bones and toss them in the  pot, it’s just a matter of letting it simmer for an afternoon), and make your soup the next. Divide and conquer.

Whatever you do, do not rush this. Know that it’s a two-day process and just leave it at that. When you taste that first spoonful of cheesy, oniony goodness, your patience will be rewarded. You might even even feel just a little bit French.

But please don’t let me catch you in the Kroger wearing a beret.

Veal (or Beef) Stock

Makes about 8 cups/2 quarts/2 litres

• 4 or 5 pounds of veal/beef bones (knuckles are good, as are bones with marrow)
• 6 quarts/litres of water
• 1 carrot, peeled and chopped into 3 or 4 large chunks
• 2 celery stalks, chopped into 3 or 4 pieces
• 1 onion, cut into 4 pieces
• 4 cloves of garlic, mashed
• 4 bay leaves
• a few sprigs of fresh parsley
• a few sprigs of fresh thyme
• about 20 peppercorns

1. Preheat your oven to 400°F/200°C. Toss your bones into a roasting pan, and let them cook for 30 to 45 minutes, until the meat’s brown and caramelized. Watch this carefully — you don’t want to burn your bones.

2. Put your bones into a soup pot; then put your roasting pan over two burners and turn the heat to medium. Pour a little water in the roasting pan and with your wooden spoon, scrape and scrape until you get all of the crusty browned bits off of the bottom — then pour this into the soup pot with the bones.

3. Go ahead and add the rest of the water along with the rest of the ingredients and turn the heat to medium-high. Let this come to a boil — what you’re doing is extracting all of the impurities — and with a deep spoon, gently scoop out the foam that rises to the top without stirring the liquid. Once you’ve gotten all of this off of the surface, it’s time to turn the heat down to a simmer and either slightly cover or leave the cover off altogether and let this cook for 4 to 6 hours, undisturbed and unstirred, so you’ll have a nice clear broth. Let this cool and then pour into your containers and refrigerate or freeze. (Before using, you’ll just need to remove the thin layer of fat that’ll settle on the surface.)

Cowgirl Tip: I like to store all of my stocks in 4-cup/1 quart/1 liter and 2-cup/1/2 litre containers, because most soup recipes call for these amounts.

Soupe à l’Oignon (French Onion Soup)

Makes 4 to 6 large servings

• 3 pounds/1 ½ kilos of onions (I use yellow onions), sliced in half-moons
• ½ stick/60 grams of butter
• sea salt and pepper
• 1 tablespoon of flour
• 2 quarts/2 litres of veal or beef stock, recipe follows
• 4 to 6 slices of country bread, such as Pôilane, or you may use baguette slices
• about 8 ounces/225 grams of Comté, Gruyère or Swiss cheese, grated
• a few sprigs of fresh thyme

1. Get out your biggest skillet and toss in your butter and onions. Turn the heat to medium-low and let this cook for 30 to 45 minutes, stirring frequently — don’t leave the kitchen, people! if your onions burn, your soup is toast! — until you reach a color that’s as a deep, dark caramel, without burning. When the onions hit the right hue, sprinkle the flour all over them, continuing to stir and slowly add some of the stock, stirring, stirring, stirring, so you don’t get flour lumps.

2. Pour your onions into your soup pot and add the rest of your stock. Turn the heat to medium-high, cover, and let this come to a boil. Once it does, reduce the heat to low and let it cook for 15 to 20 minutes, or until it reduces by about an inch.

3. Preheat your oven to broil and pop the bread in the toaster.

4. Ladle your soup into the bowls, top with a piece of toast and a handful of grated cheese. Slide into the oven and let cook till bubbly. Sprinkle with fresh thyme leaves and serve immediately.

]]> http://cowgirlchef.com/2012/02/19/soupe-a-loignon-french-onion-soup/feed/ 7 http://cowgirlchef.com/2012/02/12/indian-style-broccoli-soup/ http://cowgirlchef.com/2012/02/12/indian-style-broccoli-soup/#comments Sun, 12 Feb 2012 16:30:19 +0000 Cowgirl Chef http://cowgirlchef.com/?p=7016

When you wake up to dark gray skies and a forecast with a high of less than zero, your whole day becomes about how to keep warm. For me – and for the population of Parisiennes over 80 — that means long underwear from the store Damart, perhaps the tackiest store in all of Paris. But even for this once-chic cowgirl, fashion takes a backseat to survival when winter gets this serious. Besides being the go-to separates shop for frumpy Frenchies, Damart is probably best known for making the warmest underthings imaginable. So last week, before I left for Brussels, where it was even colder, I made the trek to Damart and filled my basket with all sorts of tees and long things guaranteed to keep me warm.

And I started making a whole lot of soup.

And as y’all know, X does not like broccoli.

But I had a rather large head of broccoli in the fridge the other day and I wasn’t going to let it go to waste. The broccoli-hater in the house will eat broccoli if it’s in a stir-fry, and has, on occasion, not been able to detect my favorite cruciferious veggie when it’s blended into a soup — et voilà — I had my solution.

I figured I’d hide the broccoli flavor by distracting X with Indian spices. He’d be so happy to have Indian food again, he wouldn’t notice the fact that the soup would be pretty much 100% broccoli.

I was totally right. The leftover naan bread I’d made a few days before made for great croutons, too.

I plan to do the same thing with cauliflower soon. But please don’t mention this to X.

Indian-Style Broccoli Soup

Makes 4 servings

• olive oil
• 1 clove of garlic, minced
• 1 carrot, diced
• 1 large head of broccoli, florets removed, and stalk peeled and chopped into 1-inch pieces (no need to waste the stalk; it tastes great, too)
• 4 cups/1 litre of vegetable stock or water
• ½ teaspoon of garam masala (see Cowgirl Tip)
• ⅛ teaspoon of cayenne
• sea salt and pepper
• naan bread, see recipe here

1. Drizzle a little olive oil in your soup pot and add the garlic. Turn the heat to medium-low and cook just until you can smell the garlic. This won’t take but a minute or two. Now add your carrots, stir, and let them cook a bit.

2. Toss in the broccoli and stems, the water, garam masala, cayenne, a pinch of salt and pepper, and cover. Let this cook for 15-20 minutes or until the broccoli and carrots are slightly soft but not mushy. Pour the mixture into a blender and blend until smooth. Add back to the pot, and either warm through to serve immediately, or let cool, refrigerate, and serve later. Either way, your old pieces of naan bread make great soup croutons.

Cowgirl Tip: You can find garam masala — a mixture of spices, including pepper, cumin, nutmeg, anise, and coriander — at any Indian food store.

I told you I was going to make gumbo…and now that I have, I can’t believe it took me so long. Thing is, I had an old recipe for a gumbo very much like this, but somewhere along the way, I lost it, or misplaced it, or something. And I didn’t think that I could make a gumbo that would taste as good as the one I made back in the (gasp) late 1980s, when I was living in a very small apartment with an even smaller kitchen.

Which just goes to show you. Kitchen size really doesn’t matter. Magic can happen wherever you are.

As I melted the stick of butter and stirred the flour in bit by bit with one of Mom’s long-handled wooden spoons, I felt a little out of practice, a bit unsure about how far to let the roux go. I kept on stirring, as its color deepened and intensified. I’d done this before, I told myself, and when it was as it should be, I’d just know.

And I did. When the roux went from a dark brown to a reddish brown, and I began to smell a nuttiness, I knew that I’d just made a perfect roux. I added the rest of the ingredients, let it all cook for awhile, and soon had a gumbo that may just be my best ever. Better than all of my gumbos past, even.

Turkey Gumbo

Makes 8 to 10 servings

• 1 stick/125 grams of butter
• ½ cup/62 grams of flour
• 1 onion, diced
• 4 cloves of garlic, minced
• 2 celery stalks, sliced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• ½ of a red bell pepper, diced
• 32 ounces/1 liter of chicken stock
• 28-ounce/792 gram can of diced tomatoes
• a big pinch of Cayenne
• 1 teaspoon of sweet paprika
• ½ teaspoon of thyme
• 2 Bay leaves
• 2 cups/450 grams of leftover turkey, shredded
• 4 links of spicy sausage (about 1 pound), sliced
• 1 cup/113 grams of frozen okra
• 4 cups/632 grams of cooked white rice (for serving)
• gumbo filé (for serving)

1. Make your roux: Melt the butter in a deep soup pot over medium-low heat and little by little incorporate the flour, stirring constantly until the mixture turns a deep, reddish brown. Be patient – this is the most important part, and it’ll take about 15 minutes.

2. Add the onion, garlic, celery, and bell peppers to the roux and keep stirring until the onion becomes translucent, about 5 minutes.

3. Hard part’s over. Pour in the chicken stock and tomatoes, and add the Cayenne, paprika, thyme, and Bay leaves, increase the heat to medium and bring to a boil. Once it boils, reduce the heat to a simmer, add the turkey and sausage, and cook for an hour. Add the okra towards the very end. It doesn’t need much time to cook at all. Let your gumbo cool, then refrigerate — it’ll taste better the next day. When you’re ready to serve it, just warm it up, and serve with a spoonful of rice, a pinch of gumbo filé…and you’re there.

I actually came up with this recipe last year, and I’ve been waiting for the weather to get warm enough to make it again —  luckily, we’re in the middle of a heat wave – well, for springtime in Paris, that is.

I can’t believe I now think that 70 degrees is warm. Back home in Texas, 70 degrees meant that we were in the middle of winter.

When our Twitter #LetsLunch bunch decided to have a liquid lunch today, because one of our longtime lunchers, @geokaren, is going in for cancer surgery,. When she mentioned that she’d be on a liquid diet this week, we all figured that we’d join her as a show of solidarity.

Karen, I hope you like this super-easy, Tabasco-spiked green gazpacho – and I hope the rest of y’all do, too.

I’ve got a whole bunch of avocados in a bowl right now, and when they ripen up, I’m making another batch.

Here’s what the rest of the #LetsLunch gang came up with today:

Cooking in the Fruit Bowl’s Peanut Butter Espresso Smoothie

Free Range Cookies’ Crack Pie Shake

Hot Curries & Cold Beer’s Spring Pea and Mint Soup

Cheryl Tan’s Miso-Bacon-Corn Chowder

Caitlin Shetterly’s Spring Greens Soup

Cucumber-Avocado Gazpacho

Makes 2 regular-size bowls or 4-6 small appetizer portions

INGREDIENTS

4 large cucumbers (or two English cukes)
2 large avocados
2 medium shallots
¼ cup olive oil
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
juice of one lime
½ teaspoon sea salt
drop or two Tabasco sauce (you don’t want to overdo, or you’ll overwhelm the flavors of the cucumber and avocado)
cilantro (for garnish)

1. Peel cucumber, and cut off the ends. Cut in manageable pieces, about 4-5 inches long. Now, slice away the part with the seeds, leaving you with the flesh. Do this with all of your cucumbers and put in the blender.

2. Add the avocado and add this to the blender, too, along with the rest of the ingredients. Puree until smooth. Taste and adjust ingredients. Refrigerate for 2-3 hours, at least, so the flavors can come together. Garnish with cilantro.

Cowgirl Tip: This is even better the next day, so it’s a great do-ahead soup.

I’ve made this soup three times in the two months. Three times, I tell you.

But I can’t help myself. I love butternut squash. And I love this soup.

I found this recipe on the wonderful culinary website, food52 — it’s also in Amanda Hesser’s new book, The Essential New York Times Cookbook (which I’m loving more than I ever imagined) — and I was immediately struck by the technique. No oil, just sliced shallots and garlic cooked in water; then, squash, plus the broth (or in a couple of versions, I used water, because I didn’t have homemade stock on hand) for a half-hour. The recipe orignally comes from chef Barry Correia from Canyon Ranch in upstate New York, so that’s why it’s leaning towards lean — but trust me, it’s not lacking in flavor one single bit.

I really hate to bring up the good-for-you aspect of this soup because it sounds like I’m trying to convince you that you should make this because it’s healthy. Please don’t do that. Don’t make this soup because it’s from a spa, or because it’s low-fat. Make it because it lets butternut squash shine. Shine in all of its delicious butternut squashiness.  And make a double-batch, like I’ve learned to do. (Or, don’t make it at all. Which means more butternut squash for me — and ultimately, more soup.)

The apple cider, poured into the blender once the butternut squash is cooked and puréed, makes this soup sing; the small amount of sour cream (in France, I used crème fraiche) adds just the right touch of elegance. And the apples! Don’t forget to dice an apple for garnish, like I did the first time that I made this. The crisp, small bits of diced apple will make you rethink how you garnish soups from this day forward.

Butternut Squash and Apple Cider Soup

Adapted, just barely, from “The Essential New York Times Cookbook” by Amanda Hesser

Makes 2 large or 4 first-course servings

INGREDIENTS

1 shallot, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
3 cups peeled, seeded, and cubed butternut squash
½ cup chicken broth (I use water if I don’t have broth handy)
¾ cup apple cider
¼ cup light sour cream
½ teaspoon sea salt (or more to taste)
½ unpeeled Honey Crisp or Granny Smith* apple, cored and finely diced
cracked black pepper

1. Heat a medium-size saucepan over low heat. Add the shallot, garlic and 1/4 cup water. Cook until the shallot and garlic are softened, being careful not to let them burn, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the squash and the chicken broth (or water) and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer until the squash is soft, about 20 minutes.

2. Carefully pour the mixture in a blender. Holding the top down with a towel, blend until smooth. Add the cider, sour cream and salt. Continue blending until well combined. Note: the soup can be made ahead up to this point. Place in a clean saucepan over low heat until heated through.

3. Ladle the soup into two bowls. Garnish with apple and cracked black pepper. Serve immediately. And often.

*I used an American Cameo apple, which I’ve never tried before, and it was just perfect, somewhere between tart and sweet. I prefer this over a tart apple like the Granny Smith, but that’s just me. Please use whatever apple you love most.

Mom’s been telling me about how much she loves this soup for the last couple of years, and since we don’t have kale in France – or spicy Italian sausage like the one that she buys at the Kroger in Denton — I’ve not asked Mom for the recipe, or thought too much about this soup, really, at all.

But that was before I tasted it.

Let me just say one word about this soup. Wow.

Chunky with potatoes, sausage, and carrots with ribbons of curly kale running through a milk-thickened broth, this rustic, throw-together-in-a-half-hour soup is one of the most satisfying winter meals that I’ve tasted in a long time.

I watched Mom put this together the other day between nonstop updates on Texas’ erratic and dramatic weather (cold/sunny and 75/thundersnow and 17 degrees F), and marveled at how such simple ingredients could create such a terrific dinner.

I wasn’t surprised, of course. Just happy. Happy to be sitting at my mom’s kitchen table on a cold winter’s night and eating our bowls of soup while the nightly NCIS ‘thon ran in the background and her kitty slept in the rocking chair.

P.S. Mom wanted me to point out the no salt, no pepper-ness of this recipe, so please take note. The Italian sausage provides enough oompf for the soup, and it doesn’t need any additional seasonings.

Potato-Kale Soup with Italian Sausage

Makes 6 large servings

INGREDIENTS

1 ½ pounds spicy Italian sausage (Mom uses Johnsonville’s Hot Italian sausage)
1 medium white or yellow onion, diced
3 medium carrots, diced
2 32-oz. cartons chicken stock
2 pounds red-skinned potatoes, cut into 2-inch pieces
1 bunch kale, ribs removed and sliced into 1-inch ribbons
1 cup whole milk

1. Remove the casings from the sausage, crumble into a large skillet, and cook over medium heat until brown. Put the sausage on a paper towel-lined plate to drain. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon of the oil from the sausage, and let the skillet and oil cool for about 10 minutes.

2. Add the onions to the oil in the skillet and sauté over medium heat until they begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add the diced carrots and cook for another 5 minutes. Turn of the heat.

3. Into a large stockpot, pour the chicken broth, and add the cooked sausage, onion and carrot mixture, along with the potatoes and kale. Turn the heat on medium, let the soup come to a boil, and then cover and turn the heat down to a low simmer. Cook only until the potatoes are tender; about 30 minutes. Then add the 1 cup of milk, let it heat through, and serve.

Cowgirl Tip: Mom says collard greens would work well in this soup, too. (We don’t have kale or collards in France, so I’d use Swiss chard or spinach.)

Sometimes I find something that I’ve not eaten a lot of before — or ever — as in the case of the topinambour, aka Jerusalem artichoke, or sunchoke, as it’s also called in the U.S., and I can’t stop coming up with new ideas. Earlier this year, I made a tart with the artichokey-tasting stalk, the cardon, and as much as I liked it and its subtle artichoke taste, I must admit that I love this oddball-looking tuber even more.

The texture is potato-like, and the flavor is much more like that of an artichoke. Once you manage to peel the pink skin off, and chop it into manageable pieces, it’s an easy drizzle with oil, salt and pepper and into the oven, just as you would potatoes or any other root vegetable.

I liked the idea of mixing this with cauliflower and blending it into a soup, because  I’m always looking for new and interesting soups, since they seem to be the only thing that’ll warm me to my toes in this frigid weather, and two, they’re super-easy to make. This one’s no exception. Oh, and there’s yet a third reason — I’m trying to get X to eat more veggies that he claims that he doesn’t like (such as choufleur, one of my favorites), so I simply hide  them by puréeing them in a soup.

I’m sneaky that way.

The earthy color of this soup is due to the roasted bits of the veggies, which also imparts a deeper flavor than what you’d otherwise have (if you simply steamed them, for example). I didn’t want to do too much to get in the way of the nutty artichoke-ness, so I simply added a bit of fresh thyme and some roasted hazelnuts at the end.

X still claims to dislike cauliflower, but he loves this soup.

Mission accomplished.

Cauliflower-Jerusalem Artichoke Soup with Thyme

Makes 4 servings

INGREDIENTS
1 head cauliflower, cut into florets
2 pounds Jerusalem artichokes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
5 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 medium shallot, chopped
3-4 sprigs thyme, leaves removed, plus more for garnish (optional)
4 cups chicken stock or water (you may need a bit more; if you do, simply add until veggies are covered by 1-inch of stock or water)
½ teaspoon sea salt
½ teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
hazelnuts, roasted and roughly chopped, for garnish (optional)

1. Put the cauliflower florets on a parchment-lined (or foil – I just do this so clean-up is easier) cookie sheet (or two if you need more room) and drizzle the florets with the 2 tablespoons of the olive oil and lightly sprinkle with sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Slide into the oven until the florets begin to brown, about 15 minutes. Once the florets brown, pull them out of the oven and turn them over, so the other side gets brown, too. This will take about 10 more minutes. When browned on both sides, remove from the oven.

2. On another parchment-lined cookie sheet, spread out the Jerusalem artichokes, drizzle with the other 2 tablespoons of olive oil and a sprinkle of sea salt and pepper and slide into the oven. Watch carefully, and flip these over to the other side once they begin to brown, which will take about 15 minutes. When cooked, remove from oven.

3. In a large stockpot, put the last tablespoon of olive oil and the chopped shallots, and turn the heat on medium. Let the shallots cook until they’re translucent – this will only take 5-10 minutes. Now add the cauliflower, Jerusalem artichokes, thyme, and chicken stock or water, and sea salt and pepper. Let cook for about 20 minutes, then pureée with a stick blender or use your blender. Taste for seasonings. Serve with toasted hazelnuts and a few fresh thyme leaves.

Y’all may have noticed over the last few months, I’ve gone a bit lighter with the recipes (I’m not talking about desserts, which I believe are the key to happiness). It all started back when X decided to be a vegetarian for two weeks way back in the spring, and I started putting together meatless dinners, because, you know, I’m supportive that way. Truth be told, it was already warmish, so it was quite easy to do, and the less-meat idea sort of just stuck through summer and into the fall, and here we are, in winter, or almost. It certainly feels like it’s already here.

As I write this, wet flakes of snow are falling. Again.

Thing is, once X got used to the idea of not eating meat at every meal, he stopped asking for it, which left a lot more room for me to experiment with veggies and different grains, too. It’s not hard, either, to get excited about veggies when you’ve got fresh markets to peruse nearly every day of the week.

We both needed to eat healthier, and I wanted to cut down on what I spent on food each week, too. Turns out that eating less meat was the answer. As a recovered vegetarian, I know this, but living here has introduced me to sooo many lovely things that I’d never find at home, like duck confit (and duck fat), braised beef cheeks, and the joy of eating foie gras on Pringles, I’ve been sampling it all like I’ve been at a 24-hour, all-you-can-eat buffet on cheap cruise ship with no dock in sight.

For four years.

It was time for a change. My now-snug, once baggy “Boyfriend” jeans told me this.

So I signed up for yoga classes again a few months ago, and started making dishes like this one, a Texas-inspired, chunky black bean chili, perfect for any cold winter’s night, and especially good with Fritos (something that I always bring back from home – which I just ran out of, sadly, last week), grated cheddar, and jalapenos.

It’s also a perfect way for me to kick off my participation in Meatless Monday, a growing worldwide movement to urge people to eat 15% less meat as a way to improve their own health and that of the planet, too. Lots of celebs (Gwyneth, Paul McCartney, Simon Cowell, among others) and celeb chefs (Mario Batali, Marcus Samuelson) have gotten on board, as well as the Baltimore School District, which completely embraced the idea for all of its schools.

I love the Meatless Monday idea, too — it’s good for us, the planet, and as an added bonus, our pocketbooks, too. I’ve actually been doing more meatless than meatwith, anyway, so now I’m making it official.

X loves this chili, and says that he likes it just as much as my meaty chili – and perhaps better, but I must make another batch, he says, so he can be sure. He tells me that he just wants to know now if I’m going to make it again this week,  so he can go out and buy some beer.

Pick up a six-pack.

Vegetarian Black Bean Chili

INGREDIENTS

2 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 large carrots, peeled and chopped into 1/2-inch dice (appx. 2 1/2 cups)
1 pound black beans, cooked and drained
1 32 oz. can whole tomatoes and juice
1 16 oz. can diced tomatoes in juice
1 5 oz. can tomato paste
5 tablespoons chili powder
1 teaspoon cayenne (or less if you don’t want it too spicy)
2 teaspoons cumin
2 teaspoons oregano
1 teaspoon smoky Spanish paprika* (if you don’t have this, don’t worry — skip it, or add 1/4 teaspoon of chipotle powder)
2 teaspoons sea salt (or more to taste)
2 cups water (you may need more)
4 cups **cooked grains (I use a mixture of pearl barley, oats, wheat and brown rice, but you may use just one grain or a mixture of  your favorites)
cilantro, optional, for serving
lime wedges, optional, for serving

1. In a large stockpot, put the two tablespoons olive oil, the onion and the garlic and turn the heat on medium-high. Let cook for 3-5 minutes, or unti the onions begin to become translucent.

2. Add the carrots and keep stirring them in the pot for a few minutes until they begin to soften and release their carrot-y scent. Add the cooked, drained black beans, the can of whole tomatoes, the can of diced tomatoes, the tomato paste, and gently stir to combine. Add the spices and the water, stir well, and turn the heat to low to cook for an hour.

3. While the chili is cooking, make the grains. Once cooked, you have a few choices. You can add them to the pot and stir them all up; serve them on the bottom of a bowl of chili, or just put a spoonful in the center of the bowl.

Serve with chopped cilantro and lime.

*I use Santo Domingo/agridulce. You may order this online here.

**Cooked grains usually double in volume, so to yield 4 cups of cooked grains, simply use 2 cups of uncooked.

If you ask me, there’s nothing that says fall in France more than the arrival of the potimarron, the little orange squash with the delicate flavor of chestnuts. I love my butternut, and I adore my acorn, but potimarron and I, well, we’re in a serious relationship.

So much so when I go to the stand at the Belleville market where I’ve been buying them this year, he greets me with a “Bonjour” and then, “Potimarron?” He knows I cannot resist picking up one or two, which fit so neatly in the bottom of my grocery sack.

This recipe is simple and meant to let the potimarron shine — I mistakenly added celery one time and regretted it after the first taste, because even though it was just part of one stalk, the celery overwhelmed the potimarron’s subtle flavor. That said, I figured that a little crunch of my favorite cinnamony-toasty cookie, the Speculoo, would be a fun way to bring in an additional flavor, but not be too much — you can use crushed up gingersnaps if you can’t find Speculoos in your neighborhood.

For those of y’all that live in France, potimarrons are easy to find, and if you don’t,  you can substitute pumpkin or butternut squash. It won’t be exactly the same, of course – the chestnutty flavor is unique to the potimarron — but it’ll be a lovely fall soup nonetheless.

Which brings me to a little note about the timing of this post — clink your champagne glasses with your soup spoons, everyone! — it’s another Friday Twitter #LetsLunch recipe, which means that we’re all having lunch together right now. Or cyber-speaking, that is. If you’re just joining in, #LetsLunch is the Twitter hashtag for what’s become an international group of food bloggers that gather via the magic of the internet to share recipes, stories, and more than that, even, friendship. I love how our little group has grown. (Want to be a part of the fun? Just go to Twitter and type in #letslunch.)

So, to everyone old and new, Bon Automne!

Soup’s on. Let’s eat.

Here’s what the others have posted today. Check ‘em out. (May I just say one more thing? YUM!)

The Kitchen Trials’ hot-n-spicy Carrot Habenero Soup

Free Range Cookies’ Oven-Baked Soup

A Tiger in the Kitchen’s Winter Melon Soup

Dreaming of Pots and Pans’ Roasted Tomato Soup

Cooking in the Fruit Bowl’s Apple Beer Cheese Soup

Bon Vivant’s Carrot Soup with Chicharonnes

ShowFoodChef’s No Knead Pasta-Chard and Mushroom Soup with Fregola

Potimarron Soup

INGREDIENTS

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 2 pd. (appx) potimarron, peeled, seeded and cubed
1 large carrot, diced
5 small waxy potatoes, such as red potatoes, peeled and cubed
1 sprig parsley
1 sprig thyme
bay leaf
sea salt
freshly cracked black pepper

Tie the parsley, thyme and bay leave together with a piece of string.

In a large soup pot, drizzle the olive oil and add the carrots. Cook until they begin to get a little tender, just about 5 minutes or so. Add the potatoes, and cook for 3-4 minutes, and add the potimarron, about 4 cups of water and the herbs. Cover and cook on medium for a half hour. Check to see if the potimarron and potatoes are tender. When they’re done, remove the herbs and purée the soup with a hand blender. Serve immediately or save for the next day – it’s even better.

I wasn’t planning on doing another mushroom anything for awhile, but when X brought home a sack (!) of girolles they other day, I was knee-deep in mushroomland again. Not that I’m complaining. I just wish that I’d brought my mushroom brush with me from Dallas (which I never needed because the store-bought mushrooms were always dirt-free), or had the good sense to buy one when I was at BHV the other day. No matter what anyone says, a dishrag, damp or not, isn’t the best tool to get the dirt out of the crevices and cone-shaped caps of these wild French mushrooms.

I found a recipe for a barley stew with baby bella mushrooms and kale in an old Bon Appetit, and figured I could adapt it to what I had on hand. The original recipe called for  garlic and fresh rosemary, both of which I decided against because I didn’t want to overwhelm the girolles’ delicate flavor. Instead, I used dried herbes de Provence, but not too much. I also substituted spinach for kale, because that’s what I found at the market. For serving, I added lemon zest, which brightened up this earthy stew.

Super-fast to put together, this soup cooks in less than an hour, and is hearty and warm without being too heavy.

Since mushroom season is in full bloom over here, I’m putting “buy mushroom brush” on my list. Or maybe just a soft toothbrush would do. I’ll get back with you on that.

Mushroom-Barley Stew with Spinach

Adapted from a recipe in Bon Appetit

INGREDIENTS

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 leeks, sliced (white parts only)
½ pound girolles or other fancy mushrooms (cepes, bellas work here, too)
½ pound white mushrooms
2 teaspoons herbes de Provence
1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes
1 cup pearl barley
4 cups water or vegetable broth
8 oz. (about 8-10 cups) spinach, washed, and stalks trimmed (and removed if the pieces are large)
sea salt
pepper

1. Brush the dirt off of the mushrooms and cut them into pieces about the same size (I tried to leave the girolles whole if I could and quartered the white mushrooms). 

2. Cut the cleaned, trimmed spinach into pieces of about 1/2-inch wide. Set aside.

2. Put the oil and leeks in a large stockpot and turn the heat on medium. Cook until the leeks begin to soften; about 5 minutes. Add the mushrooms and sauté until brown (you may need to work in batches so the mushrooms don’t crowd the pan); this will also take about 5 minutes. Now, add the herbes de Provence, tomatoes and juice, barley, and water or vegetable stock. Bring to a boil, then reduce and cover and let cook until the barley is tender, about 20 minutes. Taste for seasonings. Right before serving, add the spinach, and let cook for a minute or two, just to the point where it begins to wilt  – you want to keep the vibrant green color. Serve with lemon zest.