Since we ate exceedingly well on this trip, we decided that we should make every effort to eat some lighter meals once we got home. I went to my soup file and tried to find something new and different, lower in calorie, but also full of flavor. I have recipes in that file (and all the other ones as well) that go wa-a-a-y back. This one did. I have no idea where the photocopy came from, but I changed the recipe some anyway, so I guess I’m clear with the recipe police.

I like fairly substantive soups. They need to have lots of texture and layers to make me happy. I don’t make clear soups at all. Never have; probably never will. That’s a “why bother” in my book. So when I read this recipe I figured I could make it more my own by adding vegetables and revising the seasonings. I could tell by looking at it that it would be low in calorie (the bacon is the only no-no in it).

The toughest part of the recipe is cutting up the chicken. I read this recipe all the way through, then went back and read it through again. It was so unusual. So I went on the internet and researched the word “hamburgese.” It appears it’s the word for the people who live in Hamburg. That’s it. I found no mention of any soup. So I really don’t know the origin of this. The chicken pieces (minced finely) are the dumplings. This isn’t any traditional kind of dumpling, trust me. There is a little bit of chopped up fresh bread crumbs, but you hardly know they’re there. I know why I saved the recipe – it has nuts (I used walnuts instead of pistachios called for), green peppercorns, minced ginger, cumin and cinnamon in the seasoning. I mean, gee whiz, where does that combination come from? Not likely from Hamburg, Germany. I’m sure that’s what intrigued me.

So anyway, you have to cut up the chicken. Words of advice here – if you have frozen chicken breasts, partially defrost them and mince them up while they’re still mildly frozen. That will be a whole lot easier than doing it once they’re totally defrosted like I did. The recipe said you can’t use a food processor (wrong texture), but if you have a meat grinder that will do. Otherwise it’s mince it by hand. I’ll just tell you that it took longer than I wanted to spend mincing the slippery strips of chicken.

The soup is a broth (I used some more of the Penzey’s soup base), but I wanted the soup to have more to it than these chicken dumpling things and broth, so I added onion, carrot, celery and mushrooms. It reminds me of albondigas, the Mexican meatball soup that’s similarly made, but has totally different seasonings in it. Anyway, the veggies just simmer in the broth, then you add the little blobs of dumpling (hand formed gently) and they simmer in the broth at just BELOW a boil (otherwise they’ll all break apart).

I must say this soup is different. Good different. My DH didn’t get it when I dished it up – I’ve never served him a soup with chicken dumplings before. But once he tasted it he liked it. I followed the proportions for seasoning, but I think it should be more highly seasoned, so have increased the amounts in the recipe below. Please note that a 2-cup (approx.) serving is only 247 calories. You place the dumplings in a wide bowl, ladle the vegetable soup over the top and garnish with Italian parsley and some of the bacon bits.
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The first time I had posole was my first visit to Santa Fe, New Mexico. That was about about 20 years ago, I’d guess. It was a culinary tour, and the guide packed in 4 days of day and night eating, shopping, museums, tours and more food. It was heavenly fun. The food was out of this world. If you’ve ever had a food epiphany, then you can relate to what I felt on that trip. I realized I was truly enamored with Southwestern food.

I’d never even heard of posole (poh-so-leh) until that trip, and hence learned that traditionally it’s a pork and hominy stew, typical of that region. Likely you can find it in Texas too, probably Arizona as well. In the stores there you can buy posole mixes (yes, I bought one). Hominy isn’t something I buy at all – I bet I’ve only purchased it a couple of times in my life (canned). But hominy is a requirement for this recipe. However, I didn’t have any. What to do? I used garbanzo beans instead. Not exactly authentic, but close.

In my repertoire of recipes I found one for posole made with chicken, so it at least gave me the formation of this recipe since chicken was what I had defrosting for the evening meal. The soup came together in rapid order – maybe not quite 30 minutes, but almost.

The recipe I was reading suggested you add a can of enchilada sauce. Well, I didn’t have that either. So I made my own. Well, actually, I just added the ingredients to the soup. Then I added in my own tweaking here and there (chipotle chiles in adobo sauce, some powdered cocoa), and now I’ve got a new soup recipe for my collection. This soup was fantastic if I do say so myself.

Now, I will say, I used Penzey’s turkey soup base concentrate for this recipe. And, if you read my blog piece a few days ago, you know that I’m a huge fan of Penzey’s soup bases. And once again, it provided a delicious depth of character to what was a relatively simple soup. The spinach is added in at the last and is barely cooked. I used baby spinach, which made the bites manageable. If you buy regular spinach, you’d best chop it up a little.

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Last week was my week to entertain two of my friends for Scrabble, and we had agreed from the beginning that we’d each eat lunch at home first. No pressure on the hostess except for some cookies and tea. After all, we’re getting together to play Scrabble, not to eat. But I was still sipping on a small glass of my new favorite cucumber soup (my third batch in a month) when the ladies arrived. I had plenty, so I gave both Gloria and Irene a small glass too. Gloria mentioned that it was similar to her favorite chilled zucchini soup. I promptly asked for the recipe, and the next day I had it in my hands. It is similar to the cucumber soup I make, but yet it’s different too. It’s a combo of zucchini and green onions, but this one is thickened with cornstarch, and has some curry powder to give it a little zip. And, you add a shot or two of some sweet white wine (Sauterne, if you have it) to it. So, it is different from the other one. I couldn’t wait to make it.

The recipe is very straight forward – you sauté the onions in butter, add garlic, the sliced zucchini, some chicken broth, seasonings, then whiz it up in the blender. Then you add cold milk mixed with the cornstarch, bring it up to a boil, cool, add the Sauterne, and chill. I had some good Wolfgang Puck’s chicken broth, so added that instead of using canned granules, but then I also added a little spoon of chicken bouillon concentrate. I buy it from Penzey’s, and think it’s better than any others I’ve ever used. Really good chicken flavor.

I added a goodly jolt of curry powder to it – I’d purchased a new one, and it was much hotter than I’d anticipated. So I stirred in some sour cream to the finished soup, to bring down the heat a little bit. Otherwise, I made no alterations to the soup. My DH adored it – he had two bowls of it, and he really enjoyed the heat (curry) in it. Just be gentle unless you know how hot your curry powder really is. Next time I might serve it with a little sprinkling of fresh chopped mint on top. Zucchini and mint go together well. Thyme and zucchini go together well, too, if that sounds more interesting.
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When my friend Cherrie and I divided up the food prep for our luncheon tea last week, she opted to make the chilled soup. And what a lovely one it was. The recipe came from an article in the Los Angeles Times food section, and was a soup served at the St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort, a very luxury resort right on the Pacific Ocean in Dana Point, here in Southern California. When the resort first opened some years ago, Cherrie and I had breakfast there, and another time we went for lunch. But we ate in the café, which is pricey, to say the least. For a café. They did have a dinner restaurant there, called Aqua, but it’s since been replaced by another restaurant, Stonehill Tavern. I haven’t eaten at either one, but while the chef, Alan Ashkinaze was at Aqua, he provided this recipe.

The soup is so low in calorie it’s almost non-existent (yes, really, just 67 calories), it has zero fat, and is so refreshing. You make simple syrup with lemongrass as a subtle undercurrent. The soup itself is watermelon, cantaloupe, peach and blueberries. Then it’s also accented with cayenne, Cointreau, champagne, fresh mint, orange juice and club soda. Does that not sound unusual? I just loved it. Not everyone did, however (don’t know why, and certainly wouldn’t ask). But if you enjoy fruit, and you like some unusual combinations, try this. Sorry for the blurry picture – I had to snap it in a big rush as the ladies were about to sit down.

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Chilled Cucumber Soup, with just the hint of thickness to it. You can garnish it with fresh dill if you have it, or do as I have, sprinkle the top with some toasted sliced almonds (good for the crunch).

It’s been years – eons even – that I’ve been making cold cucumber soup. And I always thought my recipe was just the greatest. Well . . . until I tasted my friend Jackie’s soup recently. It was a lovely bridal shower at her home, and this cold cucumber soup was served as a first course. It was absolutely wonderful. Smooth. Extra smooth, with a different texture than mine has. Jackie graciously shared the recipe with me (thank you, Jackie!), and come to find out this is a COOKED soup (mine is a raw soup only, although it also has buttermilk added). And this one has the addition of Cream of Wheat (just a little bit) to thicken it very slightly. You have no idea it’s there, but that’s what the elusive texture was.

You cook up some green onions with butter, then add chicken broth, vinegar and dill weed (fresh), also some Cream of Wheat and finally the chopped-up cucumbers. The soup is smoothed twice in the blender and sour cream is added at the end. Then you garnish it with a bit more dill weed. I did make it with full-fat sour cream. Next time I might try it with low-fat just to see how it tasted. A lovely soup. Try it. Highly recommended.
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If you don’t know it already, I’m crazy about soups. I make them all four seasons of the year, although in our hottest months, I must say it doesn’t always appeal as much. This is a hearty one – for those times when you want something to fill your stomach. And if you need a really quick throw-together soup, here’s your e-ticket. I didn’t have quite all the ingredients on hand (I rarely buy frozen vegetables, let alone the “mixed vegetable” type) but I was in a hurry to get a meal on the table. My DH had invited a friend for dinner, and we were going to a concert right after dinner, so it needed to be a casual meal and one that I could prepare, serve and clean up quickly.

If you have all the mirepoix ingredients on hand (onion, celery and carrots), use that. I bought the quart-sized already-chopped one at Trader Joe’s. You render some bacon, add shallot, the mirepoix, a little flour to thicken, some thyme and ground bay leaves, some chicken broth (or fish broth, or vegetable stock . . . whatever you have), a load of milk, then add the potatoes, the vegetables (I bought an “Italian mixed vegetable” package at the grocery store that contained green beans, carrots, asparagus, red bell pepper, soybeans and corn). Cook until the potatoes are just barely cooked through, then you add the shrimp and cook just a short time. I added a splash of heavy cream and garnished with some Italian parsley. Done.

As I’m typing this it’s 95 outside, and even with the A/C on, I’m uncomfortable. Preparing hot soup over a hot stove on a hot night is not my idea of fun. But I didn’t have anything on hand in the freezer that seemed appropriate. Nor did I want to do a full-on dinner with a meat, veg and salad or something else. That seemed like way too much work. My dear friend, Linda, came up to visit (an overnight stay) the day before, and I was enjoying catching up with her, rather than doing food prep in the kitchen. Once she left I dashed to the market and bought what I needed before our other guest arrived. We were delighted to have this friend come by; it’s just that I was very pressed for time and knew I couldn’t do a very elaborate meal. Sometimes, though, those are the best.

In my view, adding bacon to almost any kind of soup just gives in a lot more character. More depth of flavor. Period. So, even though I’d not made this soup, I was sure it would be delicious. And indeed it was.
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Oh, yum. Oh yes, another winner of a soup. I think the recipe came from Gourmet Magazine, but am not sure, since I made no note on the clipping. (These food mags change their format so frequently lately that I no longer recognize the arrangements or layouts anymore.) I wasn’t able to find it online, so can’t confirm, however the paragraph with it says the origin of the recipe is Estela Salas Silva who runs a Mexican cooking school in Puebla, Mexico. If you search for her name online, you’ll find mention of her in several places.

One of my very favorite vegetable combos is Southwestern Calabacitas. I wrote up a post about it last year. I like it so much I could easily make it my entire dinner. So when this recipe went across my radar as a soup, well, I thought, how perfect. Calabacitas (cal-a-bah-see-tas) is/are actually a Mexican squash, very similar to zucchini, but normally smaller, a bit more squat in shape, and have a more mottled green and yellow skin. But taste-wise, they’re almost the same. However, when you say “calabacitas” in Southwestern cuisine, it means a mixture of corn, the squash, probably onion and poblano chiles. They’re one of those combinations that represent a food marriage, to me anyway.

Ideally you’ll make this in the summer when zucchini and corn are in season, but surely it would be good with frozen corn, especially the frozen grilled corn sold at Trader Joe’s, for instance. You will need access to the poblano (also known as pasilla) chiles, and at least some kind of hotter type like Serrano or jalapeno. I used jalapeno because the serranos at my market didn’t look all that great.

There is a bit of chopping and mincing, but if you don’t care about the size of the chopped stuff, do it in the food processor, and it would take no time at all. I was experimenting with my new Alligator chopper. It’s immensely cool. And easy. Love this new toy (except for finding a home for it in my kitchen since it’s a tad bulky). I took a photo of it – with a small red onion inside. First you peel the onion and I only put in a half an onion at a time, but with the slam of the chopper you have a bunch of perfectly chopped vegies. I’ve used it for onions, small celery stalks, squash, shallots, garlic, peeled fresh tomatoes, radishes, bell peppers and apples. As you chop, the chopped stuff goes up into the clear plastic box on the top. Once you’re done, or it’s full, you turn the whole thing over and flick the box off and empty the container into your pot, or salad, or whatever. In case you wonder – why do you need one of these? If you want perfectly cut minced squares of things, this is it. As wonderful as a food processor is, it doesn’t chop things up uniformly, which is fine in most cases, but if you want exactly 1/4 inch cubes, the Alligator is your answer.

Anyway, this is a simple soup, really: onions, zucchini, poblanos (that have been grilled, skins removed), garlic, corn, cilantro, some cream at the end, and a tad of dill. And, if you happen to have them, some squash blossoms to garnish the soup bowl. I made this full recipe – which says it serves 8 – well, maybe 8 small servings. We had it for dinner last night, and with our hungry son-in-law Todd on hand, the entire pot of soup disappeared. My DH said – please make this again. Soon. Okay by me, but I’m going to double the recipe and freeze half.

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The photo is a bit distorted – the glass isn’t really that bowl shaped at the top. I served the soup in these small 4-ounce glasses, with a small spoon. Even though it was served hot, you could hold onto the bottom or top of the glass without burning your fingers.

My theory must have been, back when I clipped this recipe from Bon Appetit, that it was unusual, therefore, I’d like to try it. Unusual it is. Good? A resounding YES. Perhaps it’s not the right first course for just any dinner, but it made a big hit at our recent dinner party. I made it two days ahead, then reheated it, added the cornstarch thickener (so little of it, I hardly think it mattered) and the Armagnac. The recipe comes from a now-defunct restaurant in Oxford, Maryland, called Mathilda’s.

In case you don’t know about Armagnac, here’s the lowdown from Wikipedia: Armagnac pronounced ar-mahn-yak] is a distinctive kind of brandy or eau de vie, made of mainly the same grapes as cognac and undergoing the same aging in oak barrels, but mainly with column still distillation (cognac and part of armagnac is distilled in pot stills.

It comes from the mountainous regions in France near the Pyrenees. I always thought Armagnac had some affinity with apples, but no, it’s all grapes. It’s just the method of distillation and barreling that differentiates it. Much of the soil is rocky. Anyway, Armagnac is not an everyday staple in liquor stores, so you may have to seek it out. But you could also use Cognac or brandy instead. Just don’t use some $4.99 bottle of rot-gut. The flavor does come through in this soup.
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Even though I live in a city, close by there aren’t any independent fish markets. Our grocery stores carry fresh fish, but I don’t like it much. The flesh is soft. Makes me think the fish has been treated somehow. And I never think the fish is truly fresh. The cardinal rule is that if fish smells fishy, it probably isn’t fresh. Even though I know they aren’t supposed to. I’m leery of a lot of shrimp I see, because of the horror tv programs I’ve watched about the dirty, filthy pens they’re raised in, mostly along Asian coasts, and how vegetation won’t even grow near these pens because the water has been so destroyed from the detritus from the shrimp. Shrimp is the number one desired fish among Asian consumers, apparently. Shrimp caught in our waters aren’t all that great, either, with moderate levels of mercury.

Our closest independent fish market (that presumably carries fish and shellfish from reputable sources and not the endangered species – although they did have Chilean Sea Bass, which I didn’t buy) is about 10 miles away, and it’s down a busy freeway that clogs with traffic unless you return before about 11:00 am. So I don’t go there very often. But yesterday I had to drive about 13 miles that direction to buy the very best Italian sausage and stopped at this fish market on the way back.

Freezing fresh fish isn’t what I like to do, either, so I buy only what we can eat immediately. I bought about a pound of “chowder chunks” (halibut, swordfish, cod, tilapia) and some rock shrimp. I told the fish monger I didn’t want any salmon or tuna in the mixture, which he was kind enough to do. For me, the addition of tuna and salmon overpowers a fish stew. Also bought some ready-made ceviche that we enjoyed with lunch, along with about 5 ounces of fresh Dungeness crabmeat which went on a lovely green salad.

I used a couple of recipes to concoct this fish stew/chowder. It took about 35 minutes to put together, start to finish. First I sauteed a bit of pancetta in olive oil (you could use bacon and next time I will), then added a large onion, chopped, two small leeks, chopped, about 2 cups of chopped celery, also some fresh spring garlic (look like green onions, but they’re young garlic and you could just add one clove of regular garlic, minced) a bit of jalapeno, and some mushrooms. Then I added some seafood stock (mine came from Penzey’s, and it’s a concentrate you mix with water) but you could use clam juice instead, or even chicken broth. A can of light coconut milk, some red bell pepper minced, and 4 stalks of lemon grass, cut in half lengthwise. That stewed for a bit, then I removed the lemon grass, added a bit of thyme, and about a cup of fat-free half and half (or use the real thing) and a big splash of heavy cream. Once that came to a simmer I added all the chowder chunks (cut into smaller bite-sized pieces) and the shrimp (snipped into smaller pieces) and allowed it to just rumble even below a simmer for 3-4 minutes. Done. I was all out of cilantro, otherwise I would have sprinkled some on top. This recipe makes a thin broth, yet creamy. And the fish chunks were lovely. It was an easy dinner, served with a couple of slices of fresh sourdough bread. The best part is that I have enough for another dinner as leftovers. I’ll reheat it very gently so the fish doesn’t break apart. This wasn’t a “wow,” over the top kind of dish, but it was warm and tasty for a cold winter’s night.
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Some years ago we were at the home of friends, and many others had been invited to participate in a Russian dinner. Each couple brought something. I made a pie, I think. With a crust that should never be repeated. I’d followed a recipe that was supposed to be a Russian type, made with an egg yolk. Well, anyway, we’ll gloss over that disaster. One of the other couples brought a very authentic borscht. It was what she called a winter borscht, made with beef. It was deliciously deep in flavor, but she wouldn’t share the recipe, was almost offended that I’d ask, as it was a family one. I’ve never forgotten that borscht, and have pined away, wishing I knew how hers was made. So, ever since, I’ve collected borscht recipes, thinking I’d make it sometime.

Wikipedia has a very comprehensive page of information about borscht. About its origin (Russian, Ukrainian, Lithuanian, even Polish), and its two major variations (hot-winter, and cold-summer). The common thread is beets (except for one summer version using sorrel), but what a bunch of variations it suggests. Makes my mind reel even thinking of all the combinations. About as varied as curry powders are to the East Indians, or a green salad to anyone in the world. It’s all in the interpretation, and what is in your larder.

Set before me I had four recipes, all slightly different. Naturally, the common thread was beets. Yet they all included onions, tomatoes, tomato paste, and cabbage. Two had beef in it. Another was vegetarian. And one had andouille sausage (also likely not authentic).

Sidestep with me a bit. We have friends, Mike & Norma. Mike does most of the cooking in their house, and as a Louisiana boy, he loves his rice, red beans. And Andouille (pronounced ahn-doo-wee) sausage. A year ago Mike made a dinner of red beans, rice and sausage for us, which was fabulous. And he kindly bequested to me a package of Andouille. I tucked it into the freezer until I was ready to make something with it. It’s been a year, for goodness’ sake. But Sunday was the day to use it.

I took what I thought was the best of all four recipes and made it my own. Even adding one little thing that probably isn’t true to the genre of borscht, that being thyme.

I baked the beets in the oven (easier to get the skins off), sauteed the vegetables, added almost all the ingrients and simmered for a couple of hours. At the very end you add the Andouille. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, if you simmer a sausage (a delicious, flavorful sausage of any kind) in a soup, it gives up all of its flavor to the soup, so when you chow down and expect that Kielbasa or Hungarian sausage to have some flavor, you’ll find that it’s absolutely blah. Nothing but soft texture with no flavor whatsoever. Test the soup for seasonings – mine needed just a tad more sugar (note there is 2/3 of a cup of red wine vinegar in it). So, the Andouille, a treasure for sure unless you happen to live anywhere near New Orleans, needs to be added in at the very end, so it still has that spark of heat and chewiness. The resulting chunky soup is just the richest red/orange color, and when serving garnish the soup with a moderate dollop of sour cream.

So, interpret away. Make borscht yours too, with additions of your own. And, THANKS MIKE, for the Andouille. I took two quarts of borscht to them on Sunday afternoon – that was Mike’s request – whatever I made with the gifted Andouille, I needed to share it with him. Gladly!
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