recipe Archives - Page 3 of 3

Not that squash soup recipes don’t proliferate now, but I had intended on posting this well before Thanksgiving. Years ago, while still living back East, I was making my first pumpkin soup in my very small kitchen. My mother once marveled at how I managed to cook as much as I did in such a teeny space. You make do by teetering cutting boards on top of the trash can.

I was using a cookbook with gorgeous photography that I bought used in Houston, of all places. I say “of all places” because this was the second of only two good things about Houston. The other was the cavernous grocery store with aisles upon aisles of international food and still-hot packages of fresh tortillas. I had yet to move to Portland, Oregon, a paean to food and great grocery stores. But I digress.

While I cooked, I listened to an NPR program with door-bell ringing and foot-stepping sound effects as if famous chefs were arriving at someone’s house. Each chef announced the dish they brought and then described the recipe. It reminded me of a Three Stooges record album I listened to over and over as a kid, clanking buckets and slamming doors, your imagination filling in the rest.

One chef brought pumpkin soup, only his contained crab meat. I shut off the gas, ran downstairs, hopped over the back fence and minutes later I was back in the kitchen with rather expensive lump blue crab meat. It helped living behind a Safeway. The soup was delicious but it was also the last time I splurged on crab meat, probably the result of a not-grateful-enough family member. Perhaps I’ll try it again but this time with dungeness. But what I have loved every since is how versatile this soup can be with a little experimentation.

The farmers markets, and even grocery stores, are awash in gorgeous gourds. Hubbard, delicata (at left, oblong off-white with stripes) and butternut are all good options for soup. Delicata is my favorite for its rich, nutty taste. Both it and butternut will peel with a sharp vegetable peeler. If you thought you first had to roast the squash, think again. This is easier and perhaps will prevent you from using canned pumpkin.

I strayed from my original recipe and added curry powder, which quickly became a hit. My non-cooking mother has turned my soup into a tradition, making it when I’m not around. We are a family not terribly inclined to tradition. So this, and the fact that my mother largely shuns cooking, means this soup is kept alive against all odds.

Where I start with sauteed leeks, Cathy Whims, chef of Portland’s Nostrana, turned me on to beginning with a soffrito. This is essentially chopped vegetables that are the base of many Italian soups. The difference is pronounced and adds a greater level of depth. She used a few small hot chilis that were removed before pureeing the soup, and then crumbled almond cookie on top, finishing with a peppery drizzle of olive oil. Superb.

My recipe below is a very uncomplicated, semi-Asian style soup. A friend goes all out with lemongrass, fish sauce and other ingredients for a full-on Thai experience. But you can start here and then take it where you will. The potatoes make for a creamy soup and is a good option if you want to go vegan, as many squash soups call for some cream.

Recipe: Asian-inspired Winter Squash Soup

1 carrot, chopped

1 celery, chopped

1 medium onion, chopped

1/4 t hot red pepper flakes

2 T olive oil

1 1/2 to 2 lbs. winter squash (delicata, butternut or your favorite)*
or about 4 or 5 cups cubed squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 1/2-inch cubes

2 small to medium potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes (yukon gold work well)

1 1/2 T fresh grated ginger

1 to 1 1/2 t salt, or to taste

1/2 t cumin

boiling water or stock*

1 cup coconut milk

Optional: mix juice of half a lime in 1/2 cup of sour cream or plain yogurt for garnish.

Directions:

Heat the oil in a stock pot and add the carrot, celery, onion and red pepper. Saute on low heat for about 10 minutes till soft. Add the squash and potatoes along with grated ginger, salt and cumin. Pour in boiling water or vegetable stock to just cover squash. Bring to a boil, then lower heat and simmer for about 20 minutes or until squash is soft.

Allow the soup to cool a bit. Then, working in batches, puree the mixture and return it to a soup pot. If the mixture is too think to easily puree, add a bit of hot water or stock. Once the soup is returned to the pot, stir in the coconut milk and simmer a few minutes more. This soup is best made a day ahead to let the flavors meld. Adjust the seasoning if necessary. Drizzle the lime/sourcream on top and serve.

Download a PDF of the recipe.

Perhaps I should look at my miniscule vegetable garden more often. If I had, I might have been able to rescue my broccoli rabe from devastation. The plants were growing like nobody’s business but were riddled with, ahem, worm poo, so badly that I yanked out all the plants. The tender buds were gone but fortunately my rainbow chard remained in all its colorful glory.

But I commend the chubby green critters on their taste. Broccoli rabe, (also known as rapini, cime di rapa and raab, among others) is in the turnip cultivar group. It’s small broccoli-like heads are surrounded by a lot of leaves, all edible. It has a slightly bitter, nutty taste and is a good source of vitamins A, C, and K, as well as potassium, calcium and iron. I have noticed that sometimes it is much more bitter than at others. It certainly has kick. It is not to be confused with broccolini.

I grew up eating it at my Italian grandmother’s in Brooklyn, NY. It was usually swimming in olive oil, sometimes with a little red pepper flake. In all, it was an odd thing for a kid to like. But I’ve always welcomed unusual flavors to my palette. I figure I can decide later not to eat it again.

While in southern Italy in Puglia in 2006, I ate the region’s signature dish “Orecchiette con Cime di Rapa” (recipe below). I can think of few better things to fatten up on at this time of year. Orrechiette means “little ear” and is shaped as such. The Italians are big on food rules, so I never stray from this pasta shape in this dish. If they say it holds the sauce better than another shape, who am I to question?

Eating this dish is, in part, an act of keeping alive my food experiences in southern Italy. It’s hearty and uncomplicated. It also qualifies as a one-dish meal and is a good way to eat a vegetable that might get overlooked. I revisit this dish enough that I often wonder if rabe growers noticed a spike in sales in the last couple years.

I can imagine this dish served with a roasted beet salad, not only for a flavor contrast but also for color. But it can stand alone. Served with a wine from that region, like a Salice Salentino, it’s perfection. A red can hold up to this dish.

There are variations on this recipe, including adding sausage. Most recipes call for boiling the rabe. I prefer to saute it. I found no references to sprinkling fine breadcrumbs on top but it was served this way in Italy and the crunch adds dimension. (In Portland, Pasta Works sells bags of fine breadcrumbs that they make and process themselves.)

Recipe: Orecchiette con Cime di Rapa

For 4 people

1 large bunch rabe (It cooks down so you could use 2 lbs. with no problem.)

1 lb. orecchiette

4 T olive oil, or as much as needed

1 or 2 cloves garlic, crushed

5 to 8 anchovies (fear not the anchovy)

1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes (or more to taste)

1/2 cup reserved pasta cooking water

salt to taste

fine unseasoned bread crumbs for garnish

Directions:

I get the water boiling and have the rabe washed and chopped. The cook time for the pasta and rabe is about the same so I saute the rabe just as I am putting the pasta on. Trim a bit off the ends of the rabe. The stalks are tender so don’t waste them. Cut the rabe in approximately 1- to 2-inch chunks. Wash the rabe in a bowl or salad spinner. Drain, but there’s no need to completely dry the rabe. The water left on the leaves helps it to steam a bit.

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet, add the crushed garlic, anchovies and red pepper flake. Saute for a few minutes till anchovies are melted, working them with a wooden spoon to break them up. Don’t let the garlic brown. In the meantime, add the pasta to salted boiling water and follow the box directions for cooking. Reserve 1/2 cup of the pasta cooking water about midway and set aside.

Add the chopped rabe to the skillet. It will seem like too much to fit in the pan but it will wilt quickly. You may need to add it in bunches. You might put stems in first, then add the greens a few minutes later. It is done when a fork goes easily into a stem, approximately 10 minutes. Add salt to taste but remember the anchovies have a lot of salt, so be careful.

Drain the pasta and add it to the skillet with the rabe. Combine the mixture well and add some of the reserved pasta water. The starch in the water interacts with the olive oil making a nice thick sauce. Let this cook down for just a couple minutes. Add more olive oil if necessary.

Sprinkle with the bread crumbs and serve hot. Buon appetito!

Tag: recipe

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