Alfred Hitchcock had declared his profession “producer” when a customs officer could not contain his curiosity and further questioned him.
“What do you produce?” the officer inquired.
Gooseflesh,” Hitchcock replied.

Hitchcock, whose gourmandising produced his own flesh, too, was once a guest at a dinner party where food was hardly in profusion. While serving the coffee, his hostess said,
“I do hope you will dine here again, Mr. Hitchcock.”
“By all means,” he replied. “Let’s start right now.”
  . . . from The Ravenous Muse, by Karen Elizabeth Gordon
  . . . photo from networkedweekend.com

In time for Halloween – the temperatures are finally abating today. Good thing since goblin and ghost costumes don’t generally come in summer weight. Yesterday I spent the entire day in San Diego. First I attended a cooking class taught by Carissa Giacalone, one of the finalists in the TV Food Network’s “The Next Food Network Star” back a few years ago. She lives in San Diego and has a catering business. I’ll have several recipes to share from that class. Maybe starting tomorrow. Then, since I was already there, I met up with my friend Linda from Carlsbad, and she and I attended a Phillis Carey class in the evening. There were 52 people in that class! Whew. Phillis prepared a very ambitious menu (four meat entrees and a dessert). I’ll be sharing some of those recipes as well in coming days. I took a bunch of photos so you’ll get to see what all the dishes look like. So, stay tuned.

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Until I decided to write up this recipe, I can’t say that I knew much about Auguste Escoffier, other than he was a famous French chef. And that he wrote a cookbook or two which are considered sacrosanct by lots of chefs and foodies in France and abroad. He lived from 1846 to 1935 and spent his life in the French food arena, beginning when he was apprenticed to his uncle’s restaurant in Nice at the ripe age of 12. He revolutionized (streamlined) the running of top-drawer kitchens, and implemented new techniques of canning when he was the Chef de Cuisine for the French Army during one of France’s wars. So there’s your little food history lesson of the day.

I’ll just comment briefly that as I was growing up (I think I’ve mentioned it here before) both grandmothers always served lots of pickles and relishes with meals. They likely did lots of canning since they grew their own vegetables, so they had lots of cucumbers, tomatoes and peppers to use up every season. But then, pickles and relishes were just de rigueur. My mother served her fair share of them too, and I can’t say that I was all that enamored with them as a child. Actually, salsa is a similar kind of condiment, and I certainly eat plenty of THAT. Once I ventured into making fruit salsas (my mango or pineapple salsa being a particular family favorite), I must have reacquainted my palate to the kind of sweet and sour mingling that goes on with pickles and relishes. I also have that Mexican onion relish that is so good too. And remember my write-up about the piquante peppers from South Africa? They have a very similar taste, although this pepper condiment has many more layers of flavor with the addition of onions, garlic and spices. The South African peppers are just pickled somehow.

My fellow blogger, Luisa, the Wednesday Chef, wrote up this recipe, having read it in the Los Angeles Times (no longer available online). In her post she used many, many superlatives. I usually stand up and notice when bloggers use words like fabulous, fantastic, can’t keep my spoon out of them. That kind of language. Since I had some leftover meatloaf (obviously cold), this recipe seemed like a cinchy combination. I had everything on hand except the red bell peppers, and that was easily rectified.

This recipe is SIMPLE. Really. It took about 20 minutes to chop and cook, then it bubbled away on the stove for an hour or so. I had golden raisins instead of dark, but that was the only substitution I made in this recipe. I didn’t weigh the peppers – I used 4 peppers. The picture above is the combination of ingredients to make the peppers. Nothing all that unusual. And the second photo shows the spices used. They made a very attractive pile on my cutting board, so I decided to photograph them for you. The only thing a bit different here is the freshly grated nutmeg. I almost never use jarred pre-ground nutmeg. The flavor of the fresh is just so much better. Years and years ago I bought a nutmeg grinder (less than $10 then) that has served me well all these years.

The verdict? Fabulous. This relish would be wonderful with just any kind of meat (roasts, chops) and even chicken. Even some kinds of fish. So often leftover meat from a pork roast, for instance, loses that juiciness once it’s cooled down and chilled, so you need something to moisten every bite. I can see this as a great condiment in sandwiches too. I can’t wait to try this on a turkey or meatloaf sandwich. I don’t know that I’ll be eating it straight out of a bowl because it does have a vinegary sharpness. Muffled by the sugar, though. Overall: delicious. And did I tell you it was EASY?

This little note is being added nearly a month later . . . I still have these peppers in the refrigerator. They’re fine. Just fine. I served it recently as a side with grilled sausages for dinner. All that vinegar in them  must keep them preserved well.
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This photo was taken quite a few months ago. You can’t see much of the horizon (the Pacific Ocean, out there about 10 miles), but in the far distance is Catalina Island, and off on the right side is Palos Verdes, a ridge of low hills right along the coast northwest of Long Beach.>

We’re experiencing a week of warm temperatures. Again. Usually I say to myself that by Halloween we’ve finally cooled down to Fall temps. We’ve had some cooler days, but then it heats right back up again. It was close to 90 yesterday. At least the humidity is low, so we don’t feel it as much. We’ve had some fires in Southern California, but nothing near us, thank goodness. But then, over the last couple of years nearly everything that could burn within 10-20 miles of us has already burned.

As many issues as we have had with our property (house) in the last year, our jacuzzi developed a new leak. Actually two. These are the 3rd and 4th ones in about 3+ months. Yesterday and the day before the leak detection people repaired them (the major one was a copper pipe about 20 feet away, near the filtration equipment), and they had to dig down about 6 feet, including jackhammering about a 2.5 x 8 foot length of cement walkway. The second one was near the jacuzzi itself. Sigh. We are so gosh-darned tired of fixing these leaks. Not including being tired of having to PAY for the repairs.  But then, our house is 40 years old. And, if we’ve found and repaired these two leaks, that means it’s less water that is draining out into the soil on our hill. One of these leaks, probably a slow leak,  may have been there for a very long time undetected. The bigger one – well, we knew we had a problem when the jacuzzi was losing 3-5 inches of water a day. Isn’t home ownership wonderful?

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Recently I went with a couple of my watercolor class friends to a Thai restaurant for lunch. I enjoyed my lunch so much I decided to try to recreate it at home. My entrée was a special that day, a creamy (coconut milk-based) sauce with fresh pumpkin cubes and shrimp. It had enough of the sauce/gravy to serve over a bed of rice. It was absolutely out of this world fabulous. I tried to close my eyes and analyze the flavors floating around in my mouth. I hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out how to make it.

Seeing sugar pie pumpkins at the market reminded me I wanted to try to prepare the dish. I did sleuth on the internet for a recipe, and found one that was similar, but different. I decided to make mine a soup without rice rather than the shrimp entrée sauce over rice I’d had at the restaurant. Since there were already carbs in the dish (the pumpkin) I thought it would be healthier for us anyway. The internet recipe called for shrimp paste (I used a fish soup base) and dried shrimp (I didn’t have them, nor did I buy it). It called for “green chiles,” so I used one Poblano (probably not traditionally Thai, but it was what I had) and one jalapeno. It had a perfect degree of heat for my taste. This other recipe called for basil. I used spinach instead. So I really changed the recipe all around, different proportions of most things and added ingredients plus deleted others.

The seafood soup base I bought from Penzey’s. You’ve read about them here before – their soup bases are just the greatest. I’m generous with how much I use. They don’t keep forever anyway. I’ve had my three jars for about 5 months now and they’re still just fine (stored in the refrigerator).

As I was making the soup I kept tasting the broth. Finally, after I added a jar of Thai red curry sauce I was pleased. The sauce came from Trader Joe’s, but I believe there are other brands out there . . . just seek them out. I purchased frozen already-cooked extra-large shrimp which got added to the soup at the very end. They slow-simmered just long enough to defrost and heat through. The coconut milk gets added at the very last also because it does not like to be boiled. I added the spinach and merely stirred it into the soup minutes before serving. The flavor comes from all the other stuff you put into the broth, though. The garlic, shallots, lemongrass (I used a paste from a tube since I can’t always find fresh lemongrass in my markets), the chiles, Thai fish sauce, and the soup base. There’s also just a tad of sugar in this. The soup is quite versatile – you could easily change the ingredients to ones of your choice. Don’t like pumpkin? Use butternut squash. Don’t like shrimp? Use chicken. Don’t like coconut milk? Use regular cow’s milk or soy (although the flavor will be really different). Don’t like chiles? Add green or red bell pepper instead. But, if you enjoy Thai flavors, this is one fantastic soup. My DH thought it was wonderful too.
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Have you ever given much thought to what it must have been like as a pioneer woman? Maybe not the kind who could whip up a pumpkin pie after a day in the covered wagon traversing Kansas, but the kind who lived in New England during the early days of our country’s history? The kind of pioneer woman who had to build a fire first, keep it stoked, make and mend clothes, be capable of shooting a coyote who got too close to the chicken coop, perhaps feed all the farm animals in between doing laundry in a big huge cauldron outside the cabin? The kind of pioneer woman who had to make large meals every day, day in and day out, three times a day, often needing to feed not only the family, but also the farmhands. The kind who made biscuits, eggs, bacon, fresh bread, pancakes, stews, soups, and everything in between every single day. Who didn’t have a refrigerator to store leftovers. The kind of pioneer woman who didn’t have much cinnamon in her pantry (because it was precious and expensive), who had to harvest, cut and peel every bit of pumpkin she ever used in cooking? The kind of pioneer woman who didn’t ever go to a cooking class to learn how to use yeast. Or how to butcher a steer. It had to have been grueling work, being a pioneer housewife. And she did it in long-sleeved, full-length dresses and layers of undergarments. Because that’s just the way it was. I envy her not. Me with my ipod, double oven, bread machine, crockpot, washing machine, cell phone and two refrigerators and freezers. Well, you get my drift. My hat is off to those women who met the challenge, all for love and/or family.

Seems like I remember reading that the Native Americans taught the European settlers how to grow and harvest pumpkin because they’d never seen such things before. (The picture at the right is the sugar pumpkin I used for a soup – not for the pumpkin pie.) I’ve probably mentioned it here before that I’m a huge fan of pumpkin. Pumpkin pie is my favorite pie, bar none. And I have to talk to myself (you know, self talk in my head) about not making it more than once or twice a year. Because I can eat plenty of pumpkin pie if it’s around. My dad also adored pumpkin pie. It was his favorite as well. It’s also our son’s favorite pie, and he considers the hostess (whether it’s his wife, me, or any other hostess) stingy if he doesn’t get a whole pie all to himself on Thanksgiving. He laughs and cajoles, pleads and begs, tells the women in his life what wonderful cooks they are, just so he can have his whole pie. As a teenager he literally ate a whole pie on Thanksgiving Day. And wanted more the next morning for breakfast. I think his wife has weaned him down to one whole pie. Period.

Generally we celebrate Thanksgiving out at our desert house. We have a 3-bedroom house there, and if all three of our kids and their families come to visit it’s spillover time with people and children sleeping all over. But there’s lots to do. Entertainment for the kids. A big pool next door. A golf cart to ride around in, just to check out the pathways around the two 18-hole golf courses. And with just a single refrigerator my kitchen there is taxed to the max storing all the food and stuff to serve a big dinner, and breakfast, and lunches and snacks for thirteen people. So I always want to make pumpkin pie that doesn’t need to be refrigerated. There’s absolutely no room in the frig. Sometimes one of the daughters will make pies (Sara loves to bake, so she often offers). Karen likes to bake too, but with a little toddler she doesn’t have quite so much time these days. I have succumbed to buying pies a couple of times, but I’m never very satisfied. Store-bought pumpkin pie is usually too sweet for me. I’m certain I’ve mentioned here before that I think Thanksgiving dinner is the hardest work of any American holiday. I make my own everything, the stuffing, the brine, the vegetables, the mashed potatoes, cranberry relish, gravy, pie. Everything. In some years I’ve been so exhausted by the time I sat down to dinner I hardly wanted to eat anything. So little of Thanksgiving can be made ahead, either. One year I made Rachel Ray’s apple stuffin’ muffins. They were very good, actually. Last year I made Italian Spicy Sausage Stuffing which was just wonderful. I wrote raves about that dressing last November. I’ll write up a post sometime in the next couple of weeks with a list of my recipes that are suitable for Thanksgiving dinner. And for the leftovers too.Back to pumpkin . . . I was raised on Libby’s recipe off the label on the can. And despite trying many other versions, I generally like Libby’s recipe best. However, the other day I was perusing one of my cookbooks – one that lives out at our desert house. It’s Pumpkin: A Super Food for 12 Months of the Year. I bought it last year. And in it were several pumpkin pie recipes. So as I looked at this one, titled simply “Traditional Pumpkin Pie,” I thought, yea, just a regular pumpkin pie. No different than lots of others. But then I read the intro blurb. The author, DeeDee Stovel wrote “This is the best pie I’ve ever had.” Now, considering that she must be a really great cook, and that she has a successful pumpkin cookbook under her belt, when someone speaks those words, I listen. I looked at the ingredient list . . . nothing all that unusual other than fresh ginger rather than powdered. Hmmm. Different. But then I glanced at the directions. You have to caramelize the pumpkin. Huh? How the heck do you do that with canned pumpkin?

So, there was nothing for it except I had to try it. I don’t think I can last until Thanksgiving to get my first pumpkin pie fix, anyway. So, I bought some of Trader Joe’s ready-to-bake pie crust shells and partially baked one. Blind with pie weights, for 10 minutes just until the shell would hold its shape. Meanwhile I started in on the filling. Well, it was hard to tell when the pumpkin flesh was caramelized, or ready. If it started to brown, then there were little crusty pieces in it. So I reduced the heat and just kept smushing it around the pan until it was a thick, drier mush, rather than a wet mush. It’s a bit difficult to judge, I’d say. There’s about 25% or more of water in canned pumpkin – at least when you get done caramelizing it, instead of a cup, your yield is ¾ of a cup. That gets mixed with all the custard part, the spices (and the freshly grated ginger). But then there’s another twist – you sprinkle 2 T. of sugar and 1 T. of flour (mixed together) over the bottom of the piecrust before you pour in the custard (see photo). My guess is that it keeps the crust from getting soggy. But that certainly is a different technique I’ve not used before.

Cook’s Notes: My verdict? The pie is very good. Maybe more than “very good.” As good as Libby’s? Well, hmmm, I’m not sure. This pie has a lighter, fluffier texture. Libby’s is a more dense pie just redolent with spices. (It’s possible that’s from using Trader Joe’s organic canned pumpkin, though, rather than Libby’s.) This one is more subtle.  But I will tell you, adding that layer of flour and sugar in the bottom of the pie shell protected the bottom shell from getting soggy. That technique absolutely worked! The cinnamon in the whipped cream was also a really nice touch. The pie is light in the spices (I’d probably add more next time), but I liked it. A lot. I also had to bake the pie an additional 12-15 minutes, so maybe the filling really needs 3 eggs instead of 2.
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A rat who obviously didn’t know how to read nevertheless loved books. So he set up house in a library where no one went any longer. He would walk on the books, between them, run along them, contemplate them with a tear in his eye, and his mouth watering. It was his home, he was happy there; these are my books, he said.Occasionally, he’d stop to nibble at a part of one book or another.

–Phew! The new books stink of glue and ink, and their pages are flimsy and damp and stick to the palate.

Instead, he regaled himself with the most ancient pages, the dry and yellowed ones, which were very crunchy, for example his old edition of Diderot’s Encyclopedia; he would always remember the article consecrated to God, which he made quite a feast of.
There’s also a telephone book dating from 1916, full of names of dead people and obsolete addresses which he offers bites from to his buddies when they come to visit him and which they highly prize.

His salon is furnished in paperbacks, colored and pliant. The bathroom is behind the Letters of Madame de Sévigné. An incunable* bound in vellum whose cover is buckling serves as his bed; recently, he had a nightmare in which he was taught to read.

. . . François Hébert, le Dernier Chant de l’avant-dernier dodo (the last song of the next-to-last dodo), printed in The Ravenous Muse, by Karen Elizabeth Gordon

* incunabulum: 1. A book printed before 1501; an incunable. 2. An artifact of an early period.

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All the information here about green beans comes from one of the chapters in Russ Parsons’ book titled How to Pick a Peach.

What I learned:

• That cooks all around continue trying to find ways to keep green beans green. The chemistry involved is interesting: every green vegetable goes through three stages of green: (1) raw, the vegetable is a deep but dull green; (2) in the early stages of cooking the color turns bright and vibrant (this change occurs as the cell walls soften and tiny amounts of oxygen are driven off while other gases cloud the pure color of the chlorophyll); (3) the green turns to olive drab because of a chemical change in the chlorophyll – partly due to an enzymatic action, but mostly due to acids released during cooking.
• Some of the age-old methods for keeping beans green are myths (like using baking soda in the water – – makes the texture slimy, though; cooking in heavily salted water – – no scientific basis that that method works).
• The best method for keeping green beans green is to cook them in plenty of water (so less acids are released to each bean) – quickly – no slow heat-up here – the less time beans are in the water the better – cook just until they’re done to your liking – then plunge them into ice water. [This is the method I’ve used for about 15 or so years, I guess – probably learned it at a cooking class].
• Green beans we buy are actually immature beans – as a legume they grow for the seeds inside, which if left to mature, become nugget sized and the pods will toughen.
• There are two types of green beans – the round (Blue Lake and haricots verts), the more traditional green bean; the flat (like Italian Romano) are more meaty and assertive, and are cooked much longer. They even seem to improve with lengthier cooking.
• Green beans come in a variety of colors. So they really shouldn’t just be called “green” beans. The old term was “string beans,” but the strings were bred out of beans in recent years (except heirloom varieties). A more likely name is “snap beans.” If beans are fresh, they should snap (not just bend) in half.
• You should remove the stem end, but removing the tail-end is not necessary [I always leave them on because they’re very tender and look better].

How to Choose & Store:

Green Beans with Garlic (a real favorite of ours)
Green Beans with Shallots & Balsamic Glaze

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I wrote up this post before we left on our trip in September, and I’ve posted a bunch of stories in the interim. No matter, read on . . . I kid you not, folks. I am in l-o-v-e with Penzey’s Soup Bases. You just won’t believe how flavorful your soups and stews will be when you add just a bit of this to them. And I seem to be riding on the tails of the successful chicken posole I made last a few weeks ago. I must not have made enough of that – I’m craving more. So . . . since I was making dinner for us to take to our local kids and grandson, and decided it was cool enough yesterday (in the 70’s) that it felt almost, sorta, kinda like Fall,  chili and cornbread sounded like the ticket to me. I didn’t want to go buy stuff at the grocery store. Sure enough, I had everything to make this chili.
Researching, I read a recipe on the Food Network (from Ina Garten’s section) and used it as a kind of guideline. This particular version doesn’t have any beans in it, but you could certainly add them. I might add a can of kidney beans, just to give it some dramatic color. It has a bunch of corn in it (I had a plastic bag of Trader Joe’s fire-roasted corn in the freezer) so probably doesn’t need beans.

Frozen chicken breasts I had, canned tomatoes (yep), red bell peppers (yep, two left in the crisper) and onions. Everything else was just icing on the cake – yep, had some cheddar cheese, a little container of sour cream, and some about-to-be-stale tortilla chips. Hooray. No trip to the grocery store!

The chili came together very quickly – really. I made it my own with omission of a few things (basil, yellow bells, cayenne). I had some cute little chile peppers from our garden (the four-legged squirrel and ground critters don’t like chiles, I’ve learned – hooray). They weren’t jalapenos, but something close, so the recipe below indicates jalapenos. You can use your chiles of choice for the heat you’d prefer! And I added my Penzey’s turkey stock concentrate and some chipotle chile in adobo sauce, plus some ancho chili powder. And the corn. Garnishes can be of your own choosing. I used grated cheddar, sour cream, tortilla chips and cilantro. Green onions? Fritos? Jack cheese? Yogurt instead of sour cream? Lots of choices here.
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A few weeks ago I was watching Martha when she had several famous New York chefs on the show. Seems like they all made fish of some kind, and this particular recipe just sounded interesting. Since Fall is in the air, a more hearty meal piqued my curiosity. The recipe is from Chef Daniel Boulud, certainly one of the pre-eminent chefs out there today. His method is more French than anything else. This recipe isn’t for a night when you’re trying to get dinner on the table in a hurry. It would be more appropriate for guests or a special evening at home. I have changed the recipe just a little. Originally it served 6. I cut it down to serve 2 (shown below). I couldn’t find salsify at the market, so I substituted parsnips. I hadn’t fixed celery root in years, but most markets here in California carry it regularly. I love the subtle taste of celery in this root vegetable.

So, here’s the gist of the recipe. First you make the wine and port sauce. It boils down to next to nothing (I actually left the shallot in the sauce, and I forgot to add the peppercorns altogether). Meanwhile, you peel and cube the celery root. Be sure to use a sturdy peeler if you have one. A light-weight one probably couldn’t pull the heavy peel off. Dig out any eyes and remove most of the very dark swirly parts (the part that’s actually the peel) by just peeling an additional layer or two. Cut into cubes and then you poach the root in milk to which you’ve added some seasonings. That takes about 20 minutes. I pureed it in the food processor (the actual recipe has more steps) and didn’t use all the milk, but just about.

The fish is fairly straight forward – you place some fresh sage leaves (from my garden) on the salmon fillets, then top them with one or two slices of bacon. I wanted to use one slice rather than two, but use your own judgment. It will be harder to turn the salmon if you lay the bacon on top (as I did) rather than wrapping two slices around the middle (so the bacon will stick to itself where the ends meet). I actually baked my salmon in the oven, but the done-ness was much harder to judge (it was overcooked, even though I used a thermometer), so I recommend you stick to the recipe below pan sautéing it.

The results: Absolutely delicious. The celery root puree with its moderately subtle celery flavor was a great pairing with the hearty salmon. The SAUCE is what makes it, though. I wish I’d made more. You want to take each bite that includes a bit of the celery root, salmon, bacon and sauce.
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Waiting for the weather to turn Fall-ish seems to take forever here in Southern California. On our recent driving trip we even got up to snow level (in Mt. Lassen), and endured 4 days of rain in Oregon, but as soon as we headed south again it was back into Indian Summer. The air conditioning has been running some hours nearly every day. But, it does cool off at night, thankfully. It’s not warm enough to eat outside in the evening (besides, by the time we eat it’s pitch dark now), and because I’ve been very busy trying to catch up on “things,” I’ve done some quick and easy dinners of late. Whenever the weather turns cool, my mind turns to soup. Soup is probably my most favorite food to cook, believe it or not. I even considered naming my blog something related to soup. But then, I cook a little bit of everything, so that would have been quite misleading and far fewer people would read my blog.

As I was baking Dana’s recent birthday cakes, my granddaughter Taylor asked me what was my favorite thing to cook. When I told her it was soup she gave me a funny look. When she comes to visit us I usually bake with her (cookies, cakes, desserts – I mean, what kid doesn’t love desserts . . . I always hope that one of my grandaughters or grandsons will have an interest in cooking).  So she was a bit mystified, I guess, that I said soup! Her mother (my daughter) doesn’t eat soup. Period. I don’t know where I went wrong there – she doesn’t eat eggs (or breakfast, for that matter), mushrooms or soup. Nor does she drink coffee or tea. Or wine. Or beer for that matter. Oh well. We eat/drink almost all of them. Back to soups . . . I’ve even written up a post about my soup “library” in my freezer – the vertical stack of flattened freezer bags full of soup. Twice this week I’ve pulled out bags from my inventory. I’m getting ready to start firing up the burners for a new season of soups.

I read somebody else’s blog this morning which gave me the idea that maybe some of you haven’t been reading my blog all that long. And maybe you haven’t read some of my older posts about my favorite soups. If you haven’t looked at my RECIPE INDEX, you can always go there and view a list of all of the recipes of all types that I’ve posted since I started my blog.

This soup list below isn’t all-inclusive . . . I’m only telling you about my favorite hot soups. The ones I make year after year after year. The ones I crave. Here you go:

Cabbage Patch Stew –  Kind of a cross between soup and stew. Simple to make and served with a topping of freshly made mashed potatoes. This is one of my all-time favorites because of the combination of hearty soup and the potatoes. Freeze the potatoes separately.

Cream of Tomato Soup –  From a cooking class I took last year up in Sonoma. Oh so much better than Campbell’s. This is the first soup I’ll be making very soon. I crave this soup, especially with a half of a toasted sharp cheddar cheese sandwich made on grainy wheat bread.

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup – a rather complicated fresh butternut squash soup. It also contains onions and apples, all oven roasted before concocting the soup itself. Succulent and a bit sweet. Freezes really well.

Roasted Poblano Asiago Soup –  the recipe I researched after going to Cindy’s Backstreet Kitchen and having a similar soup. I crave this soup too.

Butternut Squash with Ginger & Jalapeno – a completely different soup than the above one – spicy, smooth and quite simple to make.

Tuscan Chicken Soup –  not a chicken soup at all. Very easy soup with ground beef and greens.

Sopa de Calabacitas – a favorite because I just l-o-v-e calabacitas (a Southwestern combo of corn, poblano chiles, onion, zucchini and cilantro). Usually served as a side vegetable, I like the mixture so much I made it into a soup.  

And just because I’m writing up a post about soups, here are two cold soups that are particular favorites too, which I probably won’t be making again until next spring sometime:

Cream of Cucumber Soup –  A cold summer soup from my friend Jackie. I must have made it 5 times over this last summer.

Strawberry Gazpacho –  from a cooking class a couple of years ago. Simply scrumptious. When strawberries come in season in the spring I’ll be making this right away quick.

I created the photo collage from photos in my archive. Once I finished it I realized the top left isn’t soup, it’s salsa. From the tiny thumbnail, it looked like tortilla soup. But the rest are soup photos from my recent cooking.

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