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[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the third entry on apples.]
Did you win the Trail Mix Giveaway? Don’t forget to check here!
And now, our Lucky Comestible Apple series moves on to the soup course of the meal. . .
This soup is an all-time favorite of mine. One taste, and I promise you’ll be a devotee, too. Hey–this soup should have its own fan club! No, this soup should be featured on YouTube! This soup is a souper-star. You will love this soup!
Seriously, if you don’t love this soup, I will eat my hat my words my way through the northeastern states your portion as well as my own! I would marry this soup if I could. I LOVE THIS SOUP THAT MUCH. (sorry, HH–nothing personal).
In fact, I’ve been dreaming about this soup, on and off, for the past 20 years or so. I first encountered its enticing, tart and textured charms almost two decades ago, when I was invited to my former office mate’s home for dinner. Besides being strikingly beautiful (she had worked as a model for a while before teaching) and incredibly hip, Ms. Mate was also the very first vegan I knew personally (as if beauty and cool were not intimidating enough). I couldn’t believe I’d scored an invitation–I mean, Ms. Mate wore Yves St. Laurent jackets–to teach in! And she donned funky wigs, just for fun! She had a voice like Kathleen Turner and looked like Brigitte Nielsen (well, when the latter was still pretty); and I was in awe of her.
I don’t remember the rest of the meal, but that night I was served a standout apple and red wine soup (after the salad, I might add), and was immediately smitten. The slightly tannic base, thick with puréed apple and red as a lover’s blush, was oddly mesmerizing. I begged her to share the recipe.
Once I’d copied it meticulously from her cookbook (the name of which has dissipated forever into the ether of my age-addled memory), I took it home and filed it in my “soups” recipe folder. There it lay, neglected and withering, for months at a time. Whenever a special occasion would arise–a dinner party, say, or the holidays–I’d determine to revive the apple-red wine romance, slide the page from the folder, place it on the counter, and leave it there it lay for a few days, before I sheepishly returned it to its resting place. For one reason or another, I never made it again.
As soon as I decided to run this Lucky Comestible series on apples, however, I knew which soup recipe I’d use. Last week, I strode over to my cookbook shelves and withdrew the “Soups” folder once again. I began to leaf through the recipes. . . then checked again. . . then went through them all, one page at a time. Horrors!–the soup recipe was gone!!
I can’t adequately express the devastation I felt at realizing I’d somehow either lost or misplaced that recipe. I simply couldn’t imagine leaving it out. It’s the perfect “Let’s-try-something-different-this-holiday-season” soup, the perfect “let’s-wow-the-guests” soup, the perfect “I-love-you-be-my-Valentine” soup. Besides, I hadn’t eaten it in 20 years, and the memory of that unique flavor and texture was still compelling. I decided to try to reproduce the soup from the taste memory.
I’m happy to report that the results were stellar. Not only did I fall in love all over again, the HH was besotted, too.
“Hey, this tastes like real food!” he enthused. (I stared blankly.) “You know, like it has butter and cream and maybe even meat in it.” (For the HH, that is a compliment. But no, there’s no taste of meat in it.)
My soup isn’t quite as red as I remember the original being, but the flavor was just as I’d dreamed it. Thick, rich, and full bodied, with a slightly creamy texture that’s nevertheless robust, both warming and filling. The flavor is definitely that of apple, yet savory and slightly piquant at the same time.
I still love this soup, and am thrilled to have had this reunion, two decades later. And now you can fall in love, too. This would be perfect to serve if you’re looking for something a little different this Thanksgiving.
Just don’t forget where you filed the recipe.
Apple and Red Wine Soup
This is a great first course for a festive holiday meal. As such, serve in small bowls or soup mugs–the soup is filling, and you want to leave room for the rest of the meal! This also makes a perfect winter’s lunch with a salad and big hunk of crusty bread.
1 large onion, chopped
4 large crisp apples, peeled, cored and diced (I used MacIntosh and HoneyCrisp)
2 cups (480 ml) vegetable broth or stock
2 Tbsp-1/4 cup (30 ml-60 ml) maple syrup, to taste, or 10 drops stevia
2 tsp (10 ml) cinnamon
pinch nutmeg
1/4 tsp (1 ml) cloves
2 tsp (10 ml) freshly grated lemon zest
1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup (120 ml) drinkable dry red wine (or use unsweetened cranberry juice for ACD-friendly version)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) arrowroot powder
1/2 cup (120 ml) full fat coconut milk, plus more for garnish
Heat the oil in a large pot or dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and apple and sauté until the onion is translucent and the apples begin to give off a bit of liquid, about 10 minutes.
Add the broth, maple syrup, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, lemon zest and lemon juice; lower heat. Cover and simmer until the apples are tender, 15-20 minutes.
Meanwhile, mix the arrowroot with the coconut milk in a small bowl. Once the apples are tender, add the coconut milk mixture and stir to blend well. Allow to cook for an additional minute, until thickened. Turn off heat.
Pour the mixture in batches into a blender, or use an immersion blender, and blend until smooth. Return the soup to the pot, stir in the wine, and return to heat until the soup is heated through, about 5 minutes. Garnish with a drizzle of coconut milk, if desired. Makes 4-6 servings. May be frozen.
ACD adjustments: use stevia instead of maple syrup, and unsweetened cranberry juice instead of the red wine.
Last Year at this Time: Eggplant “Caviar”
Other Posts in this Series:
Other Apple-Based Recipes You Might Enjoy:
Other Lucky Comestibles:
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
Most of us are familiar with George Bernard Shaw’s dictum, “Youth is wasted on the young.” Well, of course I realized that saying was just a bunch of bunk. . . until I hit 40, that is. At that point, I realized, “Oh, woe, why did I waste my youth on being young??”
There’s no denying we live in a youth-obsessed culture, one in which the elderly are given little if any respect or recognition (though I bet that will all change once Baby Boomers reach their 70s and 80s. . . they do tend to take over everything, don’t they?).
It’s a truism to say that when a woman reaches her 40s (unless she’s a Cougar like Courtney Cox-Arquette), she becomes more or less invisible to the opposite sex. (Seriously. I’ve walked across the street from a bevy of construction workers in shorts and a T-shirt, with nary a glance. The Girls got more flirting than I did!). And why do we stuff the elderly into homes with only each other, like a clothing store full of only black socks–and no other varieties? (When I was last in Montreal, The CFO and I visited a retirement residence into which my dad is considering moving. While the place was modern, clean and provided roomy apartments, good food, and weekly entertainment, his first comment upon leaving the building was, “It’s okay. . . but they’re all so old.” This from a guy who’s 88! Truly, if I inherit even half of my dad’s health and longevity genes, I’ll be a lucky woman, indeed.)
I suppose it’s inevitable that “old” becomes synonymous with “useless” in a culture that builds obsolescence into most inventions. Last week I heard a radio interview by Jian Ghomeshi of CBC’s Q (Jian, you know that I have a massive crush on you, the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was fourteen, right? And that I’m dying to be interviewed on your show, right? I’d be a terrific guest, really. I’ll even bake brownies.).
Jian interviewd Anna Jane Grossman, author of Obsolete: An Encyclopedia of Once-Common Things Passing Us By. Her focus (and she’s barely reached the tail end of her twenties) was items that have already become outdated within our lifetimes. Think eight-track tapes (and, bringing up a close second, video casettes); think cursive writing (and the poor profs who have to mark hand-written exams they can’t decipher); think corner phone booths (sorry, Superman, you’ll just have to stay on Krypton, because over here, you’re out of a change room); think Mix Tapes (and the recurring pleasure you experience from seeing a friend’s handwriting on the song list–well, if you can decipher it); and, perhaps most alarming, think “looking old” (how about Melanie Griffith, Madonna, Mary Tyler Moore or Mickey Rourke? They may not look old, but they don’t exactly look human, either). In our culture, many inventions are superannuated even before some of us can learn to use them (yes, I admit, I still don’t text message).
Well, the recipe for this kugel (really a savory bread pudding) is old. Really old. And, frankly, I still adore it. It was my mom’s recipe, which she got from her mom, who got it from her mom. . . and so on.
This kugel doesn’t include any modern ingredients or preparation methods. You won’t find wasabi paste, matcha green tea powder, or pink sea salt in this baby. You won’t need a hand blender, food processor, or VitaMix to make it. It’s entirely an old-fashioned recipe.
Given my ancestors’ humble Russian beginnings, the ingredients are more reflective of what one might find in a cold-climate farm at the outset of autumn: root vegetables, bread, eggs (which I’ve omitted, of course). And yet, even without flashy ingredients, even without any spiciness or too many seasonings (except fresh dill), this kugel is delicious and remains a long-standing favorite in my home.
The pudding is moist and flavorful, firm in the middle, with low-key flecks of grated carrot, chopped celery and yellow onion. The exterior browns up to a crisp, bronzed crust (in fact, my sisters and I used to wait until Mom placed the platter of kugel on the table, hefty slices piled high, then all pounce at once to be the first to grab a corner piece, as those attained the greatest crust-to-filling ratio after baking).
The dish is quick, easy, and comforting. Great for a holiday (such as the just-passed Rosh Hashanah or the upcoming Thanksgiving) or simply a quiet meal at home. And unlike some other aspect of modern life, the final result will never go out of style.
“Mum, don’t feel bad about that lack of whistles now that you’re. . . um. . . older. I’m sure that if you walked around sans clothing like Elsie and I do, you’d get lots of attention, too.”
My Mother’s Vegetable Bread Kugel
A versatile dish that serves as a wonderful side dish, or can be wrapped and toted along for lunch the next day, eaten at room temperature.
3 Tbsp (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 large carrots, grated
2 stalks celery, diced
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups (480 ml) vegetable broth or stock, divided
1/3-1/2 cup (80-120 ml, to your taste) fresh dill, chopped
6-8 slices heavy, dense bread of choice, preferably a bit stale (I used a quinoa/millet loaf)
1 pkg (12 ounces or 375 g) Mori-Nu firm or extra firm silken tofu (or use regular silken tofu and decrease the broth by about 1/2 cup or 120 ml)
1/4 cup (60 ml) lightly toasted cashews, or cashew butter
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds
Pepper, to taste (add more salt if the broth wasn’t salty enough)
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8 x 8″ (20 cm) square pan with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a large, heavy frypan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the carrots, celery and onion and sauté until onion is translucent, 7-10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook another minute. Add 1 cup (240 ml) broth and the dill; cover and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until all the liquid is absorbed and the vegetables have taken on a golden sheen.
Meanwhile, either cut the bread into cubes or crumble in to a large bowl. Set aside.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the tofu, cashews, flax and remaining 1 cup (240 ml) broth, until very smooth and no traces of nuts are visible.
Turn the tofu mixture, along with the cooked vegetable mixture, into the bowl and stir until everything is well combined and all the bread is coated with the mixture. Smooth the top.
Bake in preheated oven for 30-45 minutes, turning once about halfway through, until edges are deep brown and crispy, and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean but moist. Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes before cutting into squares. Makes 9-12 servings. May be frozen.
Last Year at this Time: Pear and Parsnip Soup
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[Sometimes, you just want to eat something now. I've decided to offer a mini-post every once in a while, for a dish that comes together incredibly quickly or else is so easy to make that no recipe is required. Here's today's "Flash in the Pan." (For other FitP recipes, see "Categories" at right).]
[With Collards, Chard and Red Onion]
It’s been a truly crazy past week, what with our new semester starting up today at the college and my cookbook deadline being perilously close.* (And let’s not forget the Golden Globes from last evening–didn’t B & A look marvelous amidst the hubub and Moet & Chandon? And did you hear that Tracy Morgan is the new face of the US? But Mamma Mia, that Ms. Streep is timeless! ) With all that, there’s been no time for handiwork in the kitchen.
Instead, here’s what I’ve been eating lately–and by “lately,” I mean pretty much every day. I’ve made this three times in the past six days: it’s quick, it’s easy, it’s delicious and it contains nature’s most nutritious vegetables, leafy greens. And with all the deep browns, ochres, ambers and ecrus I’ve been consuming over the past few weeks, I figured it was time for some green.
[With Collards and Yellow Onion]
Besides, I adore leafy greens and have been trying to include them in my diet more often. Jagged, zippy dandelion greens are like the tough kid in the schoolyard, the punk who wears his black leather jacket like a trophy and loiters in the corner of the schoolyard chain-smoking. With a hard and bitter exterior, he’s really a sweetheart once you get to know him. Collards, with their elegant, frond-like shape, are the modern jazz dancers of the group, deftly swaying side to side as they harmoniously meld the delicate and the cacophonous. And kale, my very favorite, is the ditzy neighbour, the plucky, perky best friend, the Mary Richards of leafy greens; she fidgets and bobs and sighs histrionically, clad in her ruffly collar and matching cuffs–she’s a little wacky, maybe, but always honest and reliable. How could you not love greens?
This dish was created when I had intended to try out a recipe for brussels sprouts and apples I read about on Vegalicious a while back. When I discovered I had no sprouts, I opted for the greens instead (heck, they’re all brassicas, right?). Using the other recipe for inspiration, I threw this together. It was ready in ten minutes, and I was left to marvel that something so simple could taste so good.
The barely-wilted greens are chewy and toothsome, while the apples and onions, having softened and caramelized slightly, provide a balancing sweetness to the slightly bitter leaves. The addition of lemon juice here, besides imparting an appealing tang, renders the minerals in the vegetables more bio-available (and thereby more easily absorbed) so you can best benefit from their high mineral content.
* As to the cookbook, right now, it looks as if the publication date will be mid-April; I’ll report back as soon as I’m given a “firm” date from the publisher. What this means, however, is that my blogging may become slightly more sporadic over the next few weeks, as will my commenting on other blogs. But know that I’ll keep reading and enjoying all of your blogs even if I don’t make my presence known. And I do hope that you will still comment here–I always look forward to, and read, every single comment on this site–it is truly a high point in my day!
Sautéed Greens with Onions and Apples
inspired by this recipe
Perfect as a quick weekday side dish or a great lunch main, this recipe comes together in no time an is infinitely adaptable: for a main course, add cubed tofu or lgihtly toasted nuts or seeds. A few raisins or currants tossed in would also work well. And feel free to switch up the greens or combine several types for equally good results.
1 large bunch collard greens, chad, kale or a combination
1 medium red or yellow onion, cut in half and sliced thinly
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1-3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 large sweet apple (I used Gala),washed, cored, cut in eighths and sliced
1-2 tsp. (5-10 ml.) apple cider vinegar
juice of 1/2 lemon
salt and pepper, to taste
Wash and dry the greens and remove any thick stems. Stack the leaves in batches, roll up along the long side, then cut across the roll into slices, creating thin strips. Set aside.
Heat the olive oil over medium-high heat in frypan and add the onion; sauté until the onion begins to soften and turn translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and apple slices and continue to sauté until the apples begin to soften, another 2-3 minutes. Add the greens, vinegar, lemon juice, and salt and pepper. Toss briefly to coat the greens, then cover and allow the steam to wilt the greens, about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Serve immediately. Makes 4 side dish or 2 main course servings.
Last Year at this Time: Asian-Inspired Napa Cabbage Salad
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
There are times when I glance around my chaotic home office, and I despair a little. Then my eyes glaze over and I fall into a reverie about the good ol’ days, when I used to be organized: desktop in order, with clearly demarcated ”to do” and “done” piles. Mail returned with great alacrity, and an empty ”inbox” each evening. Shoes and boots lined up like bottles at a county fair, erect and waiting for the ball that will topple them. Laundry folded, laid neatly in drawers (never left to languish untouched on the top of the dresser for days).
Ah, yes, it’s a lovely dream. In more recent times, what with papers to mark, driveways to shovel, cooking classes to teach, orders to bake, dogs to walk, blogs to write–well, I admit that I’ve become a little slack on the home front. But seriously, do you really need more than four square inches of desk space to pay your bills online? Do you really need bookshelves to hold all your books, when the packing boxes they were moved in will do a perfectly acceptable job? Do floors really need to be washed all that often (speaking of, if your floors aren’t up to snuff, just get a puppy. Presto! It’s like one of those zoomba roboty things that catches every spill–leaving floors spic and span–with no effort on your part!).
Well, weird things are starting to happen now that I’ve cut chocolate out of my life. Suddenly, my disorderly surroundings began to feel intolerable (I mean, it’s been this way pretty much since the day we moved in here), and I went on a tidying rampage: clear the mess on the desk! Fold that laundry! Line up those shoes! Tote that barge, lift that bale. . ! And then, I felt like cooking. Cooking onions.
I had always considered onions to be a mere accessory to something else: an adjunt to the roasted garlic in a spelt pizza, a great starter ingredient for soups, or a bedrock for that slab of tempeh in a Tempeh Ruben. And yet, ever since the CFO came to visit a few weeks ago, onions have been tumbling around in the back of my mind. During her visit, she convinced me to buy a copy of Cooking Light magazine, something I’d never done before despite being an avowed magazine junkie (uh oh, I detect a pattern here. . . can the Week of Magazine Asceticism be far behind?).
Guilty of judging a magazine by its cover, I’d always assumed the recipes within would be rife with ”diet” or “lite” ingredients (usually chemically-enhanced or highly processed) as a way of creating these so-called lighter versions of strandard fare (geez, didn’t I notice it was called Cooking Light and not Cooking Lite?). Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong!
As soon as I flipped open the current issue, a stunning photo of cipollinis beckoned. Now, I’d never even heard of cipollini onions before that moment but, like a new word you finally look up in the dictionary that subsequently pops up everywhere thereafter, these onions had entered my consciousness and I began to notice their presence in familiar places–old cookbooks, food tv shows, other blogs. Within a week, I’d seen them mentioned three or four times.
As much as I love onions, I’d never based an entire dish on them before. (I’d only heard of such a travesty once, during my final PhD year. At the time, my friend Ginny’s husband was being called upon to chip in at home for the first time in their 10-year marriage, as Ginny was overwhelmed with work and studies and often late for dinner. One evening, after a long night’s studying at the library, Ginny returned home to find that her hubby had attempted to cook dinner on his own. As she gravitated toward the heavenly scent of sauteed onions, her husband beamed with pride as he directed her to a huge frypan on the stove, lifted the cover, and revealed–a pan of fried onions! That’s right: he could think of nothing to combine with them, nothing else to add, but he did know how to fry. Last I heard, they were getting a divorce.)
This recipe combines buttery-soft onions with plump raisins and toasted pine nuts in an allluring, glossy glaze. Once the dish was complete, it did look very much like the photo in the magazine. It also tasted great, with the sweet-tart appeal of a good chutney. It was then I realized, much like Ginny’s husband, “what am I going to do with all these onions?” As a side dish to some hunk of meat, they might seem sufficient on their own, but that wasn’t happening in my house. Don’t get me wrong–it was very, very good; just not good enough to stand on its own.  So I decided to ladle the mixture over herb-roasted Yukon Gold potatoes and–voila–a lovely, light dinner was born.
And, ironically, you really do need to be organized to make this dish. Just to peel the onions, you must blanch, cool, squeeze, and pull off the skins. This alone took me 30 minutes, before I even began to prepare the rest of the dish.
Yes, cipollinis are lovely. But heck, with my schedule, next time I’ll just use chunks of the good ol’ regular kind.
Because the potatoes provide the true substance of this dish, I’m submitting this as my entry for “The Potato–A Blog Event“ by Eating Leeds.
Roasted Potatoes with Sweet and Sour Cipolllini Onions
(from Cooking Light, Jan/Feb 2008 )
This recipe offers a gussied-up version of the archetypal combination, roast potatoes and onions. We ate this as a main course, but if you prefer, you can serve these separately, as side dishes.
For the potatoes:
2 lb. (about 1 kg.) Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into quarters
2-4 Tbsp. (30-60 ml.) extra virgin olive oil
generous sprinklings of oregano, rosemary, parsley and thyme
salt to taste
For the onions:
1/4 cup (60 ml.) raisins
1/2 cup (125 ml.) hot water
2 pounds (about 1 kg.) cipollini onions
1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) butter (I used olive oil)
3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) water
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) sugar (I used agave nectar)
1/4 tsp. (1.5 ml.) sea salt
1/4 tsp. (1.5 ml.) freshly ground pepper
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) pine nuts
Preheat oven to 400 F (200 C). Grease a large roasting pan or rimmed cookie sheet, or line with parchment paper. In a large bowl, toss the potatoes with olive oil. Place in a single layer in the pan and sprinkle with the herbs. Roast in preheated oven until done and a little crispy on the outside, about 45 minutes to an hour.
Meanwhile, prepare the onions:
Place raisins in a bowl and cover with the 1/2 cup hot water. Let stand 30 minutes or until plump. Drain.
Trim top and root end of onions. Cook onions in boiling water for 2 minutes. Drain, cool and peel. (The skins were supposed to slip off easily, but they were not not exactly cooperative).
Melt butter (or olive oil) in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions to pan, stirring well to coat. Stir in 3 Tbsp. water [I found I had to add more later on to keep the mixture from scorching], red wine vinegar, sugar (agave), salt, and black pepper. Cover, reduce heat and cook 40 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes. [I found I needed more time than this before they began to really caramelize.]
Add raisins and pine nuts to pan. Inrease heat to medium, and cook, uncovered, 10 minutes or until lightly browned and liquid almost evaporates, stirring occasionally.
Divide potatoes into 4 servings, and ladle the cipollini mixture on top of each.
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