French Onion Soup

I hate french onion soup. There aren't a lot of foods I really detest, but I've made two of them in the last week for this blog (the other to come next week), and french onion soup is one of them. I'd argue my rationale is valid- without going into detail, it involves a Panera, a group study session, food poisoning and missing the first exam of my college career.

Since then, I have never eaten french onion soup (and I lived in France for a year, got married there, spent my honeymoon and three other recent vacations there- my commitment to avoiding it is truly admirable, if I say so myself). Not only have I completely abstained from french onion soup for the last fourteen years, but I also have only eaten anything made with beef broth maybe a half dozen times in that span. My hatred runs deep.

Because I haven't had french onion soup in that long, I have literally never eaten it in front of Judson. But I realised I didn't want to make a giant batch and be stuck with it if he didn't like it either, so I asked him if he did: 'UGH, french onion soup,' he sneered. 'YOU DON'T LIKE IT EITHER? How did I never know this?!' I asked, shocked. He responded 'it's not that I don't like it, it's just a food that's not fancy but that people eat when they want to BE fancy, and that bugs me. Why? Don't you like it?'

And that's how we each found out something new about the person we've been married to for almost six years. On account of all this, I only made us two servings of it because, I mean, what if I couldn't handle it? It turns out that Judson quite likes the act of eating french onion soup, it's just the idea of it he can't handle, so he didn't mind either. And really, what's not to like here? Onions cooked low and slow until they're sweet and soft, a deep, flavourful broth and seriously, what other soup do you get to serve with the melted cheese right on it, already broiled to a crisp?

This version of the recipe is insanely easy- put your onions on and forget about them; add your broth and forget about it; when ready to eat, reheat under the broiler with a mozzarella crouton and you're golden- literally, that's the colour your toast should be. Best eaten with a glass of Pinot Noir and a film you've been dying to see (we went with Mindhorn) while you watch the snow swirl outside your window.

One note: my beef broth phobia runs deep, so I went on a limb and used the best quality I could get for this recipe- since it's literally half the ingredients of the soup, I'd recommend going top-notch with it. I didn't have any homemade, so I used the best quality stockpot I could get my hands on and upping the awesome factor with some fresh thyme, a glug of verjus (you can use wine, I just happened to have verjus to hand), and a generous pinch of brown sugar because I like the way it plays off the onions.

 

The verdict:

4 spoons out of five. I don't think I can properly call myself a fan of french onion soup yet, but if anything is going to convince me, the simplicity of this recipe will be it.

One year ago: toll house marble squares
two years ago: double-chocolate layer cheesecake

The recipe:

French Onion Soup

The directions:

Chop onions into bite-size pieces.
Heat the butter in a large stockpot JUST until melted, then turn heat as low as possible.
Add onions, stir to coat with butter, and add the brown sugar if using.
Put the lid on the pot and allow to cook for 1 hour, checking occasionally to be sure they haven't dried out.
After one hour, add beef stock.
If using the thyme, bay leaf, and verjus/wine, add it now.
Stir well, and bring to a gentle simmer.
Allow to simmer for 10-15 minutes, until heated through.
Meanwhile, toast baguette slices until just crisped through but not yet browned.
Warm your grill (broiler in the US) and place an oven tray in the top 1/3 of oven.
Taste soup and adjust seasoning (ours needed a hint of brightness, so I added a spoonful more wine here).
Ladle the soup into two ovenproof bowls, place the toasted baguette on top of each bowl, and place the mozzarella on top of the bread.
Place the soup in the oven and toast until mozzarella is blistered and bubbly and soup is bubbling underneath.
Remove from oven, garnish with an extra thyme sprig if desired, and eat immediately.

Yields 2 generous servings.

the ingredients:

3 large onions
2 tbsp (28g) butter
Scant 2 cups (400ml) beef stock
2 slices from a baguette
2 slices mozzarella cheese

Optional: 1 tsp brown sugar, 1 tbsp fresh thyme leaves, 1 bay leaf, 2 tbsp verjus or wine.

Garbanzo Bean Soup

I tried to make this recipe in time for the snowstorm that blanketed all of my American friends over the weekend, but alas, as I am no weatherman, I didn’t make it until Sunday and have been sitting on it ever since, unsure of what to say about it.

I’ve been excited about this soup for weeks.* In the throes of the Holiday Almanac project, when all I wanted was to cook something that wasn’t a dessert, the thought of this soup sustained me. ‘Just make it til January,’ I told myself, ‘and then you can eat garbanzo soup stewed with a ham hock and a pinch of saffron, spiced with chorizo and a whole lot of herbs, delicious and hearty and warming and cosy.’

But then I made the soup (first step: determine where to procure a ham hock in this town), and it was only… well, meh. The first round of it included a dried chorizo sausage, which, upon being boiled in soup, rendered all of its fat, leaving the broth oily and tasteless. The chorizo, though, was optional, so I tried again sans chorizo, with extra garbanzo beans and less potato, and even threw in a handful of greens I had on hand, and the result was super tasty.

So I’m including the second version below—it’s tasty and since it needs to simmer for several hours, it’s a perfect weekend dish when you can fire up the slow cooker or put a pot on a low simmer, then wash all the dishes you dirtied while prepping it. By the time it’s ready, your kitchen will be sparkling, and, if you’re anything like us, you can curl up with a steaming bowl of soup, a glass of red wine, and a new episode of the X-Files while you watch snow flurries tumble by the window onto the street below.

*I feel it's only fair to tell you that at least 40% of my excitement over this soup came from the fact that the first ingredient literally says '1 pound dried garbanzos,' and then has a tiny arrow with a note that reads 'they look like tiny hazelnuts.' I just love the idea that you might not know what chickpeas are, but you DO know what a hazelnut looks like. What?

The verdict:

3 spoons out of five. It’s delicious (when made as below), but I’m deducting 2 spoons for the fact that the first version of the recipe required me to boil a chorizo. Plus, I have really high soup standards. But major props to this soup for filling the house with an amazing roasted pork smell, and also for making so much soup that I will likely never have to make soup again. I’ve frozen half of it (a solid 4 servings), and still have enough left for 4 hearty servings. Make this when you want a cosy winter meal that’s low maintenance, tasty, and filling—aka every time you’re stuck in the house during a snowstorm.

The recipe:

Garbanzo Bean Soup

the directions:

Wash beans, then soak overnight.
Wash well the next morning, then set aside.
Place the ham hock in your crockpot or a large saucepot, then cover (barely!) with cold water.
Add beans and start cooking slowly over low heat.
Meanwhile, cut up onions, garlic, and green pepper and saute in olive oil until just softened.
Add sauteed veggies, bay leaves, and saffron to the pot and continue cooking slowly.
When beans are al dente (after several hours in a crockpot or a couple hours over low simmer), peel and chop the potato and add it to the pot.
Turn heat to high and allow to simmer until potato is cooked.
Season with salt and pepper and let simmer until thickened, adding water if liquid levels get too low, but remember that it should be very thick.
Once potatoes are cooked and beans are tender, serve with a nice glass of red wine and enjoy!

the ingredients:

1 pound dried garbanzo beans (chickpeas), make sure to use dried beans and not canned
2 pound ham hock
4 large onions
2 cloves of garlic
1 green pepper
3 tbsp olive oil
2 bay leaves
Pinch of saffron threads
1 large potato
Salt & Pepper to taste

'Clam' Chowder, or, A Disaster Story

In the interest of making all the recipes in the box, I often stumble across dumb ones that were culled from magazines, newspapers, or ads. This is one of those recipes-- it's really just 'make a can of soup, and serve with a pat of butter.' But clam chowder is hard-ish to find here in Scotland, and I've always wanted to try making it myself.

So I figured one night for dinner last week that we'd give it a try. I once watched my mother-in-law made clam chowder and it seemed pretty easy, so I thought Judson and I could surely handle it, with the help of some internet resources for inspiration.

Here is something I didn't count on: the fishmonger, when I dropped by to buy fresh clams, told me he had no clams because, and I quote, 'the water around Scotland doesn't get cold enough for clams.'

I wish I had an image of the deadpan face I gave him when he said that because I really thought he was joking and if you don't understand why, you've clearly never been to a Scottish beach (where the water never gets above 50F/10C). But evidently it's true, and the balmy waters of Scotland are not home to many clams. Armed with this knowledge, I headed to Tesco where I planned to buy jarred clams, which I assumed would work just as well. But when I got to Tesco, I could only find jarred cockles. 'That's fine,' I thought to myself. 'We'll just have cockle chowder! I'll invent this new dish and before you know it, people the world over will be ordering it in restaurants near and far! How different could a cockle possibly taste from a clam?'

Very is the answer to that question... if the cockles happen to be pickled.

To redeem myself for the horrors of this recipe, here's a picture of the new hand-carved white pine spoon I bought to scoop salt with.

I assumed naively that the cockles would be brined in saltwater, but it turned out they were pickled in some kind of vinegar (the internet recommends making pickled cockles in malt vinegar, so maybe that's what it was?). Not only did they taste exclusively of pickle, but they definitively did not match the creamy potato chowder I had prepared for them.

Don't get me wrong, we proceeded anyway (partly because we had no other dinner food in the house; partly because I felt that I couldn't give up). I hoped some of the pickle flavour would soak out in the soup and be absorbed by the potatoes, but it did not. As an additional slap in the face, it turns out that cockles are just a type of saltwater clam (not the coquinas I thought they were). We still haven't determined what pickled cockles are supposed to be used for, and so far all of my Googling has produced only recipes for making your own pickled cockles, no recipes for things to put them into.

The verdict:

1 spoon out of five. Might I go ahead and recommend that you don't make this soup? However, if you're so inclined, next time you make an actual clam chowder, top each serving with a wee pat of butter. It makes the soup extra creamy and flavourful and even more perfect for sopping up the last drops with a crusty baguette.

The recipe:

Pickled Cockle Chowder

the directions:

Rinse the cockles well in cold water.
Prepare the clam chowder as directed, except swap pickled cockles for clams.
Serve with a pat of butter on each bowl, and don't expect anyone to finish ask for seconds.

the ingredients:

Your favourite clam chowder recipe
2 jars of pickled cockles