Soup, (Sometimes) Glorious Soup

An apology to my regular readers (meaning, my mother) for not updating sooner. It's been almost two months since I last posted an entry, due to a variety of reasons, but I'm recuperating from a cold today and actually have a topic to discuss, so here I am.

I used to love just about any kind of soup, but for reasons I haven't quite been able to put my finger on, that love sort of died away as the years have passed. There are a couple of types of Campbell's soups I still am in the mood for now and again, and they are: Bean with Bacon and Split Pea. Otherwise, I much prefer homemade soups, but I don't make them very often, even though they really couldn't be easier. Every now and again I get a burst of energy and make homemade chicken stock, and I always congratulate myself when I do (even though I feel wasteful when, per Crescent Dragonwagon's instructions, I toss out the entirety of the chicken at the end, since as she correctly points out, by that time it's just "tasteless fiber"). Most of the time, though, I just use Swanson's Organic, and it's fine for most soups.

Now that the temperatures where I live may actually get below 80 degrees during the day (or so the meteorologists promise me), soup is a little more palatable. When it's 90 degrees outside in October, a steaming-hot bowl of anything isn't that appealing. But when it's cooler and/or when I'm sick, like today, not much sounds better. Today I adapted an asparagus soup recipe from Nathalie Dupree, and I couldn't have been happier with it. So, here it is:

Asparagus-Leek Soup

1 bunch asparagus, cut into about 2" pieces

1 leek, white part only, thoroughly washed and sliced into half-moons (or chopped, whichever you prefer)

1 Tbls. butter

1/4 tsp. fresh tarragon, chopped (if you don't have fresh in your garden like I do, I wouldn't run out and buy any for this; it's totally optional)

3-4 cups chicken stock, depending on how "broth-y" you like it

2-4 Tbls. heavy cream

Salt and pepper

1. Melt the butter. Saute the vegetables and tarragon in it for about ten minutes or so, until they're nice and soft.

2. Add the chicken stock and simmer for about 20 minutes, until the vegetables are completely soft. The asparagus may also be an unattractive grayish-green, but don't worry, somehow it all looks better after step #3, which . . .

3. Puree the soup in a food processor. Because the asparagus is fibrous, stick blenders really don't work, and even though I have a super-nice KitchenAid blender, I wouldn't trust it with this job either. Food processor it is, and puree to the texture you like. I like this soup pretty smooth.

4. Return to the pot and add the heavy cream. Start with the 2 Tbls. and see how you like it; you might want to add more, then again, you might not. Season to taste and serve hot.

Serves 2, but you'll probably want some bread alongside, or maybe a small salad. Although what I really want right now is a chocolate milkshake.

The Buffet: Only Good In Theory

In 2000, we visited Las Vegas for the first time, and a love affair was born. No, not between me and my husband (or either of us and anyone else)--between both of us and the city. Specifically, between us and the casinos. We have been every year since then and have yet to go see any of Vegas's famed shows--not Mystere, not O, not Celine Dion, no comedians, nothing. All we need are a craps table (him) and video poker (both of us) and slot machines (me, though Fred has been known to play them despite disdainfully referring to them as "drunk monkey machines," i.e., even a drunk monkey can play them). We also don't go to any of Vegas's famed high-end restaurants, preferring to use that money for gambling. It took a few years before we even tried one of Vegas's most famed fixtures: the buffet.

Here's our problem with the buffet: we can't and won't eat "enough" to make it worthwhile. In theory, a buffet sounds wonderful--unlimited choices for a reasonable price. The problem is, a lot of people seem to focus on the "unlimited" part as it comes to quantity to consume, not choice of what to consume. Plus, if you're going to try a variety of items, then each choice needs to be small, as in, having one slice of bacon and not six.

One thing that has seemed fairly consistent in the buffets where I've eaten (not just Las Vegas), is that the desserts are plentiful (probably because they're often cheap to make). However, they rarely seem to be any good. Dessert seems like an afterthought--just throw some cookies out there and some vaguely cheesecake-looking slices of cake and people will eat them just because they want something sweet. Personally, I would rather not waste the calories on something that isn't very good.

And so we come to today's recipe: a cookie that is good and that would be worth having even at the end of a generous buffet meal. My grandmother used to make a similar recipe and her recipe card called them "Cookies While You Sleep." Basically, they're a meringue cookie with chocolate chips. Supposedly, meringues aren't good when it's humid, but I live on the Texas coast so dry days come along once in a blue moon. These probably turn out crisp instead of chewy in dry climates, but I like them either way. I adapted this recipe from one of Kathleen Daelemann's.

Cookies While You Sleep

2 egg whites, room temperature
1/8 tsp. salt
6 Tbls. sugar
1/4 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 tsp. almond extract
6 ozs. milk chocolate chips, frozen
1/2 cup pecans

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Farenheit.

Toast the pecans in a dry skillet over medium heat until fragrant, about 10 minutes. Put the chocolate chips in a food processor and chop up until they're basically grated but still sort of look like chocolate chips (the reason they should be frozen is so that they'll chop more easily). Remove them to a bowl. Put the pecans in the processor and process until they're finely ground.

In a stand mixer using the whisk attachment, whip the egg whites on medium low speed until frothy. Add the salt and whip until stiff peaks form. Add the extracts. With the mixer on high, gradually add the sugar until you have stiff, glossy peaks. Fold in the chocolate chips and pecans.

Line a sheet pan with parchment paper and drop the cookies by tablespoonful. Since these do not spread, it's okay to have them close to each other. Turn off the heat as soon as you put the cookie sheet in and let them sit in the oven overnight. It wouldn't hurt to tape a note on the oven door reminding yourself that they're in there, as I have preheated the oven in the past, forgetting about a tray of these.

The Sweet Tooth On A Small Scale

As I get older, I'm discovering that I like the idea of dessert more than I actually like dessert itself. At least, when I eat in restaurants, I don't have any appetite left at the end of the main course; I tend to prefer to spend those can't-afford-'em-anyway calories on appetizers, since I like salty and savory more than sweet. This is not to say that I can't be lured in by the dessert menu, but I've noticed over the years that my interest in anything that could fairly be called Chocolate Extravaganza or the like is waning.

I'm more likely to eat sweets during the day as a snack, rather than as an end-of-meal finish. I rarely bake cakes, as Fred doesn't like cake and I have this belief, perhaps untrue, that I can't freeze an iced cake. He loves cheesecake, but I don't, so that's also only a very occasional treat. Pies are better in theory than in execution, and even if I do want a piece of cherry pie or lemon icebox pie or the like, with just the two of us, both being indifferent to pie, there's not much point (I'd rather have a quiche if I'm going to the trouble to make a crust). Now, frozen desserts like grasshopper pie--that '70s delight (or perhaps earlier?) involving creme de menthe, marshmallow fluff, heavy cream and Oreo cookies--are nice to have around, but again, I prefer not to have a whole dessert sitting in the freezer "needing" to be eaten up.

My sweet snack solution tends to be cookies. It's often easy to halve the recipe, and many doughs can be portioned out and flash-frozen (i.e., put the balls of cookie dough on a sheet pan, freeze them for about half an hour or so, until hard, then place them in a freezer bag, to be baked a few at a time). This way you're not stuck with two dozen or more cookies that will inevitably turn stale before you can finish them.

And, it's hard to beat bar cookies for ease and convenience. They're typically very easy to mix up, you have one pan, not multiple sheets going in and out of the oven, and there's no need to cool the cookies on a rack first. Once the bar cookies have cooled, you can just cut them up and freeze them in one bag, removing one at a time to heat in the microwave.

For me, an ideal bar cookie involves chocolate chips but rarely nuts. I usually don't care for raisins either (I'm with Fannie Flagg, who wrote in her "Original Whistle Stop Cafe Cookbook" that she spent the better part of her childhood removing raisins from bread puddings, rice puddings, cereals and cinnamon buns, and her cookbook was her revenge); however, in the recipe below they're nice. I do like Chunky bars so that was what I had in mind adding raisins (mixing chocolate chips and raisins, that is--nothing more complicated than that). I adapted this recipe from variations on a theme by Diane Mott Davidson and Nathalie Dupree.

Oatmeal Bar Cookies

2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 cup white flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup quick oats
1/2 cup raisins
1 cup milk chocolate chips (use whatever you like; I just like milk chocolate)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease an 8" square baking pan.

Cream the butter with the sugars until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, and then the vanilla. Add the dry ingredients and stir to mix. Add the oats, raisins and chocolate chips. Spread in the pan. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean (it can have a few moist crumbs clinging to it but it shouldn't be wet).

This makes a thick bar cookie, so I recommend cutting it into fairly small squares, maybe 16 total.

Recommended reading: Fannie Flagg's "Original Whistle Stop Cafe Cookbook." There's nothing fancy or gourmet about any of the recipes, but they're all down-home delicious (at least, the ones I've tried), and Ms. Flagg is so funny that even if you never make anything from it it's an entertaining read.

Breakfast, The Skippable Meal

I know, I know: nutritionists always tell you that breakfast is important, that people who eat breakfast are thinner, more active, and generally smarter and better-looking than the losers who skip it. For much of my life I've been a breakfast-skipper, and often still am; sometimes I'm just not hungry until late in the morning.

It's not that I don't like breakfast. I do. I particularly like it on vacation, when somebody else is frying the eggs and bacon. Of course, even breakfast is not immune to the immense portion sizes most restaurants seem to dish out these days. For example, the hotel where we stay in Las Vegas has quite a decent coffee shop-type restaurant, with good breakfasts. But even though we order the smallest breakfast plate (one egg, choice of bacon or sausage, hash browns and toast), that's still a ton of food. The hash browns (which we rarely eat and need to remember to tell them to leave off) take up half the plate and there are two slices of toast to complete the carbohydrate festival. Unfortunately for my restraint, their toast is notably good; I get the sourdough, Fred gets the wheat, and it comes lavishly buttered for you. I can usually make myself leave half of one slice but leaving a full slice behind is something of a struggle. The good news, though, is that we can gamble right on through lunch and not have to eat until late in the afternoon.

I don't cook breakfast for Fred during the week, since he leaves for work at 5 a.m. (Five a.m.!) On the weekends, though, I do fix breakfasts, usually featuring over easy or sunny side up eggs, bacon, and toast. Sometimes I fix pancakes, though Fred had his fill of pancakes in his scouting days so I don't make them too often. He's not fond of waffles so when I make them, they're just for me. I don't crave waffles very often but now and again, I do, so I make them in my Belgian waffle maker which was a wedding shower gift back in 1991. Still works! He likes French toast, I don't, so when I make that I usually don't make any for myself. We actually don't have that many shared breakfast likes, the exceptions being bacon and toast. He doesn't like biscuits, so I almost never make them, despite the fact they were always one of my favorite foods, especially with gravy, but I can't even remember the last time I had biscuits and gravy.

During weekdays, when I do want breakfast, I often turn to a smoothie. Ellie Krieger has some great recipes in her two cookbooks, and the one below is one I adapted from her. I cut up bananas and keep them in the freezer, but if you happen to be out of frozen bananas when you get an urge for a smoothie like this, it works ok to use a non-frozen banana plus a handful of ice cubes.

Banana Peanut Butter Smoothie

1/4 c. plain fat-free Greek or regular yogurt
1/2 c. skim milk
1 Tbls. peanut butter
1 banana, cut into chunks and frozen
2 Tbls. toasted wheat germ
1 tsp. honey
1/4 tsp. vanilla

Put all ingredients into blender and puree.

You could certainly skip the wheat germ if you felt like it. The new KitchenAid blender I bought a few months back is terrific at liquifying everything, but my old one (a cheap model I probably bought at Wal-Mart sometime in the early to mid '90s) was barely one step up from a wooden spoon and didn't incorporate the wheat germ hardly at all. So feel free to skip it if you have a crappy blender or you don't feel like buying wheat germ because you'll hardly ever use it or you don't like it . . . or, hey, you don't have to explain yourself to me! Just do what you like.

Recommended reading: "Breakfast in Bed," by Jesse Ziff Cool. The recipes are what I might call upscale simple. The Cinnamon-Brown Sugar drop biscuits are fabulous. I kind of have to wait for company to make them, though, since they're not Fred's cup of tea, though the recipe does say you can freeze the unbaked biscuits. Maybe I'll try that sometime, since that way I could just bake one or two at a time.

A Wonderful, Magical Animal

Fans of "The Simpsons" will probably recognize the title as a quote from the episode in which Lisa becomes a vegetarian. Homer is utterly confused by her decision, questioning her about whether that means she'll never eat any animal, that she won't eat bacon? No. Ham? No. Pork chops? Lisa points out those are all from the same aminal, and Homer replies, with heavy sarcasm, "Yeah, right, Lisa. A wonderful, magical animal."

So in my household, when we eat pork, which we do often, it's the magical animal. Admittedly, I've read some horror stories about how pigs are raised and how they're treated at slaughter, and that pigs are quite intelligent. Those things do give me pause sometimes, and it may be that at a future point in my life I give up pork, as I have done in the past. Unfortunately, bacon alone can make a vegetarian fall off the wagon--nothing compares to it, in either aroma or flavor. Ham runs a close second in terms of versatility and flavor appeal. Both are very useful to have around and are delicious at any time of day.

The other two pork treatments that get the most play in my household are baby back ribs--I always make my own barbecue sauce and bake the ribs, couldn't be easier--and pork chops. Early in our marriage my husband and I visited my paternal grandparents one day and my grandmother fixed pork chops and gravy (along with her usual seemingly endless assortment of vegetable side dishes, most using produce from her own large garden). To this day those pork chops remain as the pinnacle of pork for Fred. It's hard to compete with the memory of a dish, because in memory the dish is always better than we can possibly recreate. Not to mention which, pork seems to keep getting leaner and leaner--I distinctly recall more fat on pork chops I had in my childhood than you could possibly find today, though rib chops usually have at least a bit of fat. However, I think my pork chops are pretty good; the secret is mainly in the cooking time--as in, a couple of hours, if you want them fork tender.

For a changeup in my pork habits, I recently tried a recipe from Cook's Country that didn't quite do it for me, but I liked the idea of it, so I adapted the recipe to my own preferences. This is a way to use pork chops that doesn't require hours of cooking but the meat is still pretty tender, and the sauce is yummy (for which we can thank the heavy cream).

Pork With Mushrooms and Noodles (serves 2)

2 thin-cut pork chops (they don't have to be the wafer-thin breakfast chops, just not the big thick ones--about 1/2" thick is good)
2 Tbls. flour
2 Tbls. butter
4-8 ozs. mushrooms, quartered (depending on how much you like mushrooms)
1/2 onion, chopped fine
1/2 c. white wine
1/4 c. chicken broth
1/2 lemon
2 Tbls. heavy cream
A couple of handfuls of washed baby spinach leaves
Cooked pasta, whatever kind and however much you like

Cut the meat off the bone and then cut it into small, bite-size pieces; you don't want big hunks because you want them to cook through quickly. Salt and pepper the meat, then dredge it lightly in the flour. Don't discard the flour. Melt 1 Tbls. butter in a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the meat and cook until browned on both sides. Personally, I like to be extra-sure pork is cooked through so I go with 4-5 minutes per side here and then test the thickest piece to make sure it's properly done and for some reason it's not, I can cook longer. They need to be thoroughly cooked since they really won't cook more than a minute or two at the end.

Remove the meat to a plate. Melt the remaining butter and add the mushrooms, onion (seriously, take your time and chop the onion finely--don't be lazy about it--this doesn't cook that long and you don't want big chunks of onion here), and salt and pepper to taste. Cook until the vegetables are browned and tender, about 8 minutes or so. Stir in the flour left over from the dredging and cook about one minute to remove the flour-y taste. Whisk in the wine and the broth and simmer until the sauce is a bit thickened. Return the pork and any juices from the meat to the pan. Add the lemon juice, heavy cream and spinach. Let cook for a minute or two, until the spinach is wilted to your liking.

Serve over pasta--but you know what, I might try this with mashed potatoes sometime, on a cold day, or what passes for cold days around here.

Simple Foods, Childhood Foods

I suppose all of us have foods that we loved as a child and still, maybe inexplicably, love, even if they're full of chemicals and preservatives. In that category for me would be Kraft Macaroni n' Cheese, Oreos, Cheetos (though I haven't eaten any since I read in one of those "Eat This, Not That" books that for some reason Cheetos are like, one of the worst things you could ever eat--sigh) and Hershey bars. Although obviously I had some affinity for junk food, I was always thin, in part due to genetics but also in part due to the fact that portion sizes used to be reasonable. When I was growing up lasagna (made with cottage cheese!) came in small squares, not in sheet-cake size slabs, muffins were the size of a fist, not a softball, and there was no such thing as Super Sizing. In fact, I think I was in junior high school before we even got a McDonald's in my home town, and even once we did I almost never ate there.

So, we've covered junk food, but what about simple food that children like but still appeal to adults? I still like peanut butter and bananas on toast, for one. Egg salad is a longtime favorite: hardboiled eggs, Duke's or Hellman's mayonnaise (full fat, please, NO SUBSTITUTES), and salt. If I want to fancy it up, and I usually don't, I might add chopped dill or curry powder. I use the same formula for deviled eggs: eggs, mayo, salt. No pickles, capers, or anything else extraneous. Pickles, though--there's a childhood love that never went away. Clausen's, please, no other kind will do. I still have an affection for the much-maligned (by foodies) California black olives, yes, the rubbery, salty kind in the can. Love them. I also still like tuna salad, but even though I like it using my basic pattern of mayo, salt and nothing else, I also like it fancied up a bit, though I wouldn't have as a child. Marcia Adams, the Midwestern cookbook author who had some PBS television shows, has a recipe I like for tuna salad that includes cream cheese, chopped black olives, lemon juice and chopped pecans. As a child I would have rejected, vehemently and with horror, this recipe on the basis of its inclusion of nuts--shoot, I would have rejected it on that basis as late as my 20s. But, I've stretched my horizons a bit.

As for sweets, the chocolate chip cookie has been a constant throughout my life. Flourless chocolate cakes, creme brulees, tortes, tarts, they may all come and go, but I have found no improvement on the chocolate chip cookie. Or chocolate chip cookie dough. I like them chewy but will accept them crisp sometimes too. Here I will not tolerate nuts; I like nuts in savory foods only and occasionally in sweets, but not chocolate chip cookies. On this I do not yield.

Finally, on the subject of beverages: I grew up in a sweetened tea household and hated it. At that time in Texas, that was the norm, and restaurants rarely offered tea unsweetened. That tide finally changed, but by that time I had developed a strong preference for Cokes. (In my part of Texas, the brand name "Coke" was used as a catch-all for any type of soft drink, i.e., "Do you want a Coke?" "Sure, I'll take a Dr. Pepper.") In my 20s I finally weaned myself off of regular Cokes and moved on to diet Dr. Peppers, Diet Rite, and the like. Now, I'm struggling, with some success, to limit those and drink more unsweetened teas and water (this last is hard, I like flavor). I can recommend Twinings Jasmine Green Tea, as well as their Mixed Berry and Black Currant flavors.

So, some food tastes come and go and others, it seems, have better staying power. I wouldn't want to eat nothing but egg salad, pickles and chocolate chip cookies for the rest of my life--not least because it wouldn't be a very balanced diet--but I like to know they're still around, easy to create and always satisfying.

Recommended reading: Marcia Adams' "Cooking From Quilt Country." It's just a beautiful book and a pleasure to read, with its look into the kitchens of the Amish and Mennonite. My Texas tastes are somewhat different so I rarely use the recipes, but it's a book I'm glad to have on my shelf.

Learning to Like the Yucky

We all have foods that we just can't stand, whether due to taste, texture, appearance, or some combination thereof, and it doesn't necessarily have to make sense. My husband will eat *sensitive stomach alert* raw hamburger meat and canned cream of mushroom soup straight out of the can, but rejects blueberries because "food isn't supposed to be blue." Early on in our marriage I realized that if I wanted to make something exotic (and I use the term loosely), it would be just for me. Though, in fairness to him, as long as I stay within some loose general guidelines (no fish, no casseroles, no blueberries), he usually eats what's put in front of him--or else it's potato chips for dinner.

For me, tomatoes were a childhood dislike, but years ago I learned to love them and now I can't imagine cooking or eating without them. With vegetables in particular, I go on occasional campaigns to learn to like the few that I don't; I'm not going to bother learning to love escargots or sweetbreads or rattlesnake meat, because there is no way that I will ever even taste any of those things. We all have our limits.

So, in honor of learning to like foods that you don't, I'm posting here my first recipe, for a roasted vegetable salad featuring eggplant, which I don't like much as a general rule but which I know is good for me. This salad was inspired by Ina Garten's Roasted Vegetable Salad with Orzo (very delicious), but is vegan (not that I am vegan, mind you, just pointing that out for anyone who might find that a selling point) and has no pasta. And it does have zucchini and tomatoes, which hers does not. And a totally different dressing--the dressing having been inspired in part by a slaw recipe by Crescent Dragonwagon in her "Dairy Hollow House Cookbook." So--here we go. The amount of vegetables you use is certainly flexible and you can use more or less of whatever you like to use up your vegetables. Servings--I don't know. For me, with this constituting the entire meal, this would be one serving. If you put it over pasta, then I'd say two servings. But maybe you're a lighter (or bigger) eater than me.

Roasted Vegetable Salad

1 Chinese eggplant, peeled, sliced and salted
1 zucchini, diced in 1" pieces
1/4 to 1/2 red onion, diced
1 or 2 small red and/or yellow bell peppers
1 handful cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbls. olive oil
1 lime, juiced
1 Tbls. light sesame oil
1/2 jalapeno, minced, seeds and ribs removed to reduce the heat or leave them in if you want it hotter (optional)
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Peel and slice the eggplant and place in a colander. Salt the slices and let sit for 20 minutes or so. Rinse them (DO NOT FORGET TO DO THIS! I forgot the first time I tried this and they were, of course, too salty) and pat them dry with a paper towel.

Line a baking sheet with foil. Toss the eggplant, zucchini, onion, and pepper with 1 Tbls. olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Roast for 20 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and turn the vegetables. Add the cherry tomatoes and garlic and roast for 10 more minutes, enough to soften the tomatoes.

Whisk together the sesame oil, lime juice and jalapeno. Salt and pepper to taste. Toss the vegetables in the dressing.

I think this recipe makes eggplant very easy to eat!

Recommended reading: Crescent Dragonwagon's "Dairy Hollow House Cookbook." I do not know if it is still in print, but if you can find it, check it out. My mother and I stayed once at the lovely namesake inn, though sadly, Ms. Dragonwagon no longer runs it and I do not know anyone bought it. Also sadly, her beloved husband Ned, with whom she ran the inn, was killed while riding his bicycle one day. But, it's still a treat to read her stories about the inn and her husband--she's an excellent writer, being also a children's book author--and many of the recipes have a nostalgic hippie slant.