cock-a-leekie soup

Just a few months of radio silence there.

But now — now!

Now, it is 2018 and it appears to be the Year of the Flu at our house, so I have a great many chicken soup recipes in store for you.

Let's start with this one. Unless you're Scottish, you might not have heard of it before.

I will tell you all about it. First and foremost, it is very tasty and just the thing you want to eat in the winter, whether you are sickly or healthy. It is also quick, which is handy when you're frail or come home from work and want to eat quickly on a dark winter's night.

It is basically a chicken soup with leeks and rice ... but, oh, it is so much more than that.

The leeks and rice are like silky soulmates — you'll know what I mean when you take your first bite. And the lemon rind! Somehow, when you add a bay leaf and a piece of lemon rind to this soup, you get a soup that tastes much more complex than it actually is. The original recipe doesn't call for carrots but I like the way the orange flecks brighten up the soup.

Apparently, the first recipe was printed in 1598, although its very fun name wasn't popular until the 1700s. Also, the original version had prunes. Prunes! I could actually see them working here but I haven't tried them yet. I'll let you know.

Now, in terms of how you do the chicken, you have two options. You may start with a couple of chicken breasts and poach them in the broth while the soup cooks. Then you pull them out, cut them up, and throw them back in.

Or, you may start with the best invention in the grocery story: the rotisserie chicken. In that case, cut out little chunks and add them near the end. Either way, this is easy. And very, very comforting.

one year ago: old-fashioned scottish shortbread
two years ago: kimchi soup
three years ago: cheesecake in a jar with passion fruit sauce

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cock-a-leekie soup
adapted from canadian living
serves 4 — 5

2 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 tbsp. butter
3 c. leeks, sliced
1 1/2 c. carrots, chopped
9 c. chicken stock
1 c. long-grain white rice, like jasmine or basmati
3 strips of lemon rind
2 bay leaves
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (raw or cooked)
salt and pepper
3 tbsp. flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Warm a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the oil and butter, then stir in the leeks and carrots. Throw in a bit of salt. Cover and cook for 5 to 10 minutes until leeks are soft.

Add stock, rice, lemon rind and bay leaf. If using raw chicken breast, throw in now. Bring to a boil. Simmer for about 18 to 20 minutes until rice is tender.

Remove the lemon rind and bay leaf. If you poached the chicken breast, remove it now and cut into small chunks. Add chicken chunks to the soup and heat up again.

Add salt and pepper to taste. Stir in parsley. Serve.

chicken coconut curry soup

This has been one of our top five weeknight soups for the past three years (thanks, Sheri!).

For some reason, we didn't break it out to serve at a dinner party until just a couple of weeks ago. One guest had been suffering from a terrible cough and I thought chicken soup was in order.

It's a humble chicken soup and – if you already have leftover chicken and rice – it comes together very quickly indeed.

But the way it tastes . . . It's kind of like the thick soup version of a really good plate of creamy-but-slightly-sour coconut curry on rice. It tastes comforting but exotic to my European-Canadian palate and I love it.

Luckily, our dinner guests – both coughing and non – did, too, and quickly asked for the recipe. So, here it is.

P.S. I think you might be able to guess what our new favourite quick dinner-party dish is. And if you're wondering about making this in the summer: it's a dream. You don't need the stove on for very long, and everyone likes slightly spicy food in the heat.

one year ago: oatmeal chocolate cherry cookies
two years ago: asian slaw
three years ago: salmon with warm tomato basil oil
four years ago: cherry hazelnut cake
five years ago: honey orange cream and loganberry jelly

chicken coconut curry soup
adapted from savory sweet life
serves 3 – 4

2 tbsp. olive oil
3 medium carrots, peeled and chopped finely
1/2 onion, chopped finely
1 red, orange or yellow bell pepper, chopped finely
2 tbsp. fish sauce
3 tbsp. red curry paste*
2 tbsp. brown sugar
1 can coconut milk (about 400 ml or 14 oz.)
3 – 4 c. chicken broth
1 c. cooked chicken meat (may be previously frozen), shredded or chopped
1 c. cooked white rice (may be previously frozen) **
3 small limes, juiced
3 tbsp. fresh cilantro, chopped finely


Set a big heavy pot over medium heat. Heat the olive oil, then stir in the carrot, onion and red bell pepper. Cook for 5 minutes. Stir in the fish sauce, curry paste and brown sugar. Cook until the curry paste is incorporated, about 2 – 3 minutes.

Add the chicken broth and coconut milk and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to medium and cook for 15 – 20 minutes, until the vegetables are tender.

Stir in the chicken, rice and lime juice. Bring it back to a gentle simmer. Taste for seasoning. You might need a bit more curry paste or a little salt here (although the fish sauce can be very salty), or maybe the juice of another lime to perk it up. Stir in most of the cilantro. Serve with a bit of fresh cilantro on top.

* I use the Thai Kitchen brand. It's not hot at all, and I sometimes add more at the end.
** I like Jasmine or Japanese rice here

lemon chicken soup with spaghetti

Over the past ten days, we have made three different kinds of chicken soup.

We've made them all to help cure a dreadful cough that's kept us up at night and breaking into hacking fits during the day. Oh, and because chicken soup tastes good.

This is soup number two. (I might also tell you about soup number three soon.)

I've been making it for at least five years now, ever since I saw Giada waxing on about it in her pretty way while I was on a plane to Toronto. I'd never seen Giada before, and the recipe struck me so much that I bought her cookbook when I got home again. For this soup alone, the book is worth it.

While I believe in the power of chicken bones in broth, I also get tired and lazy when I have the plague. Giada calls for a rotisserie chicken, which – if you can brave going to the grocery store while you're having a coughing fit at the very busiest time of day – makes it dead easy. (Just pack a couple cough candies for the trip.)

We usually shred half the chicken for this soup, and shred the other half for the freezer to ponder for a future meal. Otherwise, it's simple. I added the step of frying the onion, carrot and celery because I think it helps the soup come together better, but after that, all you do is add broth and lemon juice, and eventually cook some broken-up spaghetti.

It might seem odd to top a chicken soup with parmesan cheese, but – trust me – it is lovely and salty against the freshness of the lemon in the soup. Altogether: very pleasing and welcome at this invalid's dinner table.

one year ago: spicy salmon broth
two years ago: stinging nettle soup
three years ago: paska and zeppelin pancakes
four years ago: gumdrop cookies
five years ago: butterscotch pudding and chocolate cheesecake

lemon chicken soup with spaghetti
adapted from Giada at Home by Giada di Laurentiis

2 tbsp. olive oil
2 tbsp. butter
1 medium onion, finely diced

2 big carrots, diced
1 celery stalk, diced
9 – 10 c. chicken broth

1/4 c. fresh lemon juice
1 bay leaf
1 c. broken spaghetti* (1 – 2 inch pieces)
2 c. cooked rotisserie chicken, shredded or diced
1/4 c. parsley, chopped
salt to taste
1 c. parmesan or asiago cheese, grated finely

Heat a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Melt the oil and butter. Add the onion, carrot and celery and fry until somewhat softened and the onions are glossy and starting to look clear, about 10 minutes. Stir every so often.

Add the broth, lemon juice and bay leaf. Bring to a boil. Cover and let simmer until the vegetables are tender, 10 – 15 minutes. Add the spaghetti and cook until the noodles are cooked through, about 10 minutes.

Add the chicken and heat through. Stir the parsley in. Taste for salt, knowing you will also add salty cheese to your bowls of soup soon.

Ladle into bowls, and let everyone top their bowl with a good helping of cheese. Eat!

*We use gluten-free corn spaghetti by La Veneziane

warm salad of crispy chicken thighs

My dad is a true gardener.

He's willing to plant just about anything: tomatillos, epazote, Amish snap peas, fig trees, huckleberries, wild fennel, barbecue rosemary, frilly pink poppies.

It all shoots up happily in his small backyard, and he tends it with seaweed and horse manure and anything else it might need.

Scott and I like Dad's garden so much that it actually figured into when we decided to go to B.C. this summer (August = more ripe things in the garden).

One morning at Dad's a couple weeks ago, we were making scrambled eggs the way we always make them there: with at least six or seven different herbs from the garden.

Then my genius husband remembered Nick Nairn's warm salad with crispy chicken thighs, which just so happens to be one of Scott's specialities. He knew we could use copious amounts of herbs from Dad's garden, and we were heading off to the Courtenay farmers' market later that morning.

Sure enough, we wandered around at the market, picking up soft ripe tomatoes, fresh green beans, dark green lettuce, a new little fennel bulb . . . all the fixings.

That evening, Scott and Dad set to work on the salad and frying the chicken, while I sat in the back little office and caught up on email (because my life is glamourous like that).

Half an hour later, they called me to the table. The chicken was warm and crispy, the salad was crunchy and sweet and a little bit sharp with the vinaigrette, and it was the perfect summer meal.

Cooking note: Scott is militant about frying the chicken Nick's way. He insists that you just keep frying it for more than 20 minutes without fussing at it. That way, the skin gets crisp and golden. I worry about the meat overcooking, but thighs are moist and tender to begin with and somehow they turn out perfectly with this method. ("Of course they do," I hear Scott saying in my head, "because that's how you're supposed to do it." Right.)

Bonus photo of Dad and me in his garden last year

one year ago: ode to victoria and little house on the prairie
two years ago: salmon for dinner and hop & go fetch it: german edition
three years ago: black & blue scotch berries and plant yourself some garlic

warm salad of crispy chicken thighs
slightly adapted from Nick Nairn

4 boneless chicken thighs with skin on (about 140 g. or 5 oz. each)
2 tbsp. neutral oil, such as grapeseed or canola
1 garlic clove, lightly crushed
1 tbsp. lemon juice
140 g. (5 oz.) salad greens
50 g. (2 oz.) green beans, blanched in boiling water for 3 minutes
12 cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered
herbs (parsley, oregano, thyme, summer savory, basil, etc.)
1/2 red pepper, seeded and julienned (optional)
1/2 c. fennel bulb, finely sliced (optional)
2 tbsp. vinaigrette (to follow)
chives, to taste, cut into 3 or 4 sections

Set a frying pan over low-medium and heat it. Season the chicken thighs well with salt and pepper. Pour the oil in the pan and put the chicken in with the skin side down. Add the garlic to flavour the oil. Cook until the skin is very crisp and releases from the bottom of the pan, about 20 – 30 minutes.

Turn the chicken over and remove the garlic. Cook for another 2 – 3 minutes. Pour in the lemon juice and shake the pan to move it around. Cook 3 more minutes. Remove the chicken and let it rest 5 minutes.

To assemble the salad, put the greens, beans, tomatoes, herbs, red pepper and fennel and in a bowl. Toss with just enough vinaigrette to just coat. Divide between the serving plates. Cut each thigh into 6 or 7 strips and place on top each salad. Garnish with lots of long pieces of chives. Eat immediately, while the chicken is crisp and wonderful.

vinaigrette
from Je sais cuisiner

salt
1 tbsp. white wine or rice vinegar*
3 tbsp. good quality olive or neutral oil

Mix a bit of salt with the vinegar. Whisk in the oil and taste for seasoning.

* Really, any nice vinegar you like.

homemade barbecue sauce

Dear Reader, I have not been having an easy time of it in the kitchen.

In the past couple of weeks, I have attempted to adapt my grandmother's brickle recipe to be gluten-free. That's a kind of frozen pecan and caramel crumble with a layer of vanilla ice cream in the middle. Kind of hard to get wrong. You would think.

Well, it was OK. A bit too sweet, not quite crumbly enough, kind of hard on the teeth.

Then I pulled out my. favourite. cook. book. ever. and attempted a white gazpacho soup with almonds and grapes.

It was so odd that I can't even think of the words to describe it. Kind of fluffy and acidic. Which probably doesn't make your mouth water.

Well, how about a simple mango gelato recipe with yogurt, honey and lime? Just – weird. The lime reminded me of salsa, which is not what I was going for in a dessert.

Saturday morning, I pulled out a very reliable breakfast cook book, mashed up some bananas and made banana oat cakes.

I fried them on the griddle, in lots of butter as directed, and they became mushy, gritty pucks.

  Instead of photos of bad food, here's my deck pot.
Isn't it pretty?

Now, when I go into the kitchen, Scott says, "Please don't make any more weird recipes." Which really boosts my confidence.

However, in the midst of all my bad luck, I did learn how to make a good barbecue sauce.

I don't know about you, but I get very frustrated when I try to buy barbecue sauce because the first ingredient is always some kind of chemical sugar. I did find a local company that makes barbecue sauce sweetened with honey, and I like it, but I wouldn't mind a bit more kick.

Enter Martha Stewart. (I won't call her "ever-reliable" because, with my recent track record, who knows what will happen the next time I attempt one of her recipes?)

With hot sauce, ketchup, cider vinegar, Dijon mustard and garlic, this barbecue sauce has a kick. It also has brown sugar and molasses, so it is sweetened but I wouldn't call it a very sweet sauce.

Martha has an excellent technique for barbecuing oiled and salted chicken (we did all thighs with skin that got crisp and tasty), where you don't baste the meat with the sauce until just before it's done cooking. That means the sugars don't burn black and the chicken finishes up with a nice glaze.

We had extra sauce, so we also tried it on sausages, with the same technique of just brushing it on at the end. We loved it. It was, I thought, finally good enough to be a recipe I could share with you.

Make this sauce. It takes 10 minutes. It actually works.

one year ago: eton mess with boozy berries
two years ago: german zucchini soup and sun tea
three years ago: minestrone with summer herbs and chocolate raspberry horse turds

martha stewart's barbecue sauce
from Martha Stewart
yields about 1 1/4 cups of sauce

1/2 c. ketchup
1 tsp. hot sauce
1/3 c. cider vinegar
3 tbsp. Dijon mustard
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. molasses

Mix all ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium-low heat. Let simmer for 5 – 7 minutes, or until reduced to about 1 1/4 cups. Use what you need and store the rest in the fridge.