kimchi soup

You might not dream about soft tofu bobbing around in your soup bowl.

But I do.

Somehow, soft tofu is the perfect thing in this hot Korean soup. There's cabbage and rich spicy broth and pieces of meat floating around . . . but it's the silky-soft tofu cubes that make the best spoonfuls.

We discovered this soup at our favourite Korean restaurant in Jasper a couple years ago. Over the Christmas holiday, I knew it was time to learn how to make it myself.

I love the idea of fermenting things – that the air has little organisms that can keep food instead of spoiling it – so of course I had to make the kimchi base myself. (You don't have to. But it sure is a lot of fun.)

After a week of sitting on the counter in jars, my kimchi was bubbling away and smelled like an exotic fermented witches' brew. It was ready for soup.

Kimchi goes into the fridge after sitting on the counter for a week

You'll see the whole recipe below – thank you, New York Times – but the very best part is cutting the soft tofu into big wobbly cubes. They slide in just before serving. We liked our bowls of soup with lots of fresh green onion on top and a mound of Japanese rice on the side to soak up the broth.

This was our lunch almost every day between Christmas and New Year's. Sitting at our dining room table with the watery sunlight streaming in and a pot of rooibos tea on the counter, it was a very fine lunch indeed.

one year ago: peppermint lavender balm and we eat well in edmonton
two years ago: jane's pecan puffs and chipotle and rosemary spiced nuts
three years ago: carrot and fennel soup


kimchi soup
adapted from the new york times
serves 6 – 8

1 lb. (454 g.) pork rib roast or pork shoulder, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 tbsp. fresh ginger, grated
2 tbsp. soy sauce
1 tsp. sesame oil
1 tsp. fish sauce
2 tbsp. butter
1 medium onion, cut in half, sliced lengthwise and cut in half again
2 c. kimchi, squeezed dry and chopped*
1 tbsp. Korean red pepper flakes**
1 – 2 c. kimchi juice
8 c. chicken or beef broth
8 oz. (222 g.) soft or silken tofu, cut in large cubes
8 green onions, chopped, for garnish
Japanese rice, for serving (optional)

Get a bowl out and toss the pork with garlic, ginger, soy sauce, sesame oil and fish sauce. Marinate for 10 minutes.

Put a heavy-bottomed soup pot on medium heat. Melt the butter, then add the pork mixture. Cook gently for 5 minutes. Stir onion in and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Turn the heat up to medium high and add the kimchi and red pepper flakes. Simmer for 2 minutes.

Pour kimchi juice and broth in. Bring to a boil. Reduce to a brisk simmer and cook 20 minutes. Taste the broth and adjust the seasoning if you need to.

Right before serving, add the tofu and stir gently. When the tofu is hot, ladle into bowls and garnish generously with green onion. If you like, serve alongside Japanese rice.

* You can buy the kimchi or make your own. Here's the recipe I used.
** Buy red pepper flakes at a Korean grocery store or in the Asian section of a regular grocery store. They are not hot (spicy).

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

tomato soup with two fennels

I am having a bit of a moment with A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg.

Before The Never-Ending Flu of 2015 struck a couple weeks ago, I made espresso-walnut toffee, stewed prunes with citrus and cinnamon, and fennel salad with Asian pear and Parmesan.*

Now, A Homemade Life is due back at the library and I'm finally getting over The Never-Ending Flu of 2015, so I thought I could sneak in one more recipe before returning it – and before I go out and buy the book. (I am very strict about not buying cookbooks until I've a taken them out of the library at least three times. I'm ready to commit.)

I thought a pot of soup would be good to have on hand this week, and the Italian store has been wooing me with its cheap, fresh fennel bulbs. So I pulled out a couple cans of San Marzano tomatoes, and set about making Sunday lunch.

This soup has two fennels – those luminous crisp bulbs and crunchy little fennel seeds. It makes for a hearty soup, especially considering it could be vegan if you use water instead of chicken broth. The sliced fennel softens but keeps its shape and every so often you get a fennel seed like a jewel of intense anise flavour on your spoon.

We ate ours with toasted bread with homemade garlic butter and Parmesan, and it made for a fine post-recovery Sunday lunch.

And if you're wondering what I want to try next from A Homemade Life? Pistachio cake with honeyed apricots, buckwheat pancakes, fruit-nut balls, and coeur à la crème with raspberry purée. To name a few.

* We actually made that salad three times in five days. What can I say? It's a fennel and Asian pear revelation.

one year ago: chocolate coconut macaroons
two years ago: Dutch babies and turning 3
three years ago: gumdrop cake and turning 2
four years ago: whisky marmalade
five years ago: creamy celeriac soup and muesli

tomato soup with two fennels
very slightly adapted from A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg
serves 6 – 8

3 tbsp. olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, quartered and sliced thinly
2 medium fennel bulbs (about 11/4 pounds), trimmed, quartered from root to stalk, and sliced thinly – and if there are fennel fronds, chop them finely and set them aside to garnish
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 sprigs fresh thyme, tied with a string*
2 tsp. fennel seeds
2 28-ounce cans whole peeled tomatoes, best quality you can get
water or chicken stock
3/4 tsp. sea salt or to taste**
very small dollop honey, to taste
a splash or two of red wine vinegar

Heat a large Dutch oven up over medium heat. Pour the olive oil in. Add the onion and fennel and stir. Stirring occasionally, cook for 5 – 6 minutes, until the onion starts to soften. Stir the garlic in and cook another 5 – 7 minutes, stirring often, until the onion is very soft. Stir the thyme and fennel seeds in and cook about 2 minutes, until you can smell them.

Pour the two cans of tomatoes in. Fill one can with water or chicken stock (I used chicken stock) and stir in. Bring to a steady simmer, and cook uncovered for about 45 minutes, until it tastes like soup and the fennel is softer but still holds its shape.

Add some salt and taste. Add more salt if necessary. Add a very small dollop of honey and a splash of red wine vinegar. Taste and decide if it needs any more salt, honey or vinegar. Add the reserved fennel fronds. Serve.

* Molly calls for 1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves chopped, but I find stripping thyme stalks to be the most tedious task in the world. You could, if you like that sort of thing.
** I just got a bag of very inexpensive sel gris and tried it – worked very well

lentil soup with chorizo croûtes

This marks the first year that I've celebrated Good Friday by going cross-country skiing.

You might think: Oh, she went away to the mountains for the long weekend; how nice. 

Um, no. I'm still here in the middle of the Prairies and I went skiing by the river that's five minutes' drive away from my house.

Let me tell you about April in Edmonton. First, the snow melted. Second, my tulips started poking up in front of the house. Third, it snowed again. Fourth, the snow melted again and my tulips grew some more. Fifth (Good Friday), it snowed again, so we went skiing, made a big pot of soup, and (hopefully) drank our last hot chocolate of the season.

I thought I'd be into spring recipes right now, but I've got to be true to the season where I live. Believe me, there is no rhubarb or stinging nettle growing here.

Anyway, I don't really mind because I do love this soup.

You take fun lentils – like du Puy or beluga – and cook them up with herbs, carrots and onions until they're tender enough to be puréed. A couple whirs of the immersion blender and they're lovely and smooth.

But you don't stop there. You fry thin slices of chorizo sausage in good olive oil until they curl and become just slightly crispy. This also gives you a pretty, red oil that you swirl on top of the soup (because who doesn't like making things look fancy?).

The chorizo croûtes float on top of the soup, just waiting for your spoon to find a treasure of salty, chewy goodness amongst the smooth, earthy lentils.

You see why I like this soup? It's also pretty quick to make after work. Even if you forget to soak the lentils, that just adds an extra ten or twenty minutes to the total cooking time, while you're washing dishes or setting the table.

Winter, you're not so bad. (But I'm still looking forward to spring.)

more lentil love: parsley lentil pasta, spiced red lentil stew with greens and lemon, red lentil coconut curry soup
one year ago: stinging nettle soup
two years ago: gouda and roasted pepper dip
three years ago: a baked banana revelation
four years ago: butterscotch pudding and chocolate cheesecake

lentil soup with chorizo croûtes
via french taste by laura calder
serves 4

1 c. (200 g.) beluga or du Puy lentils*
1 carrot, chopped
1 onion, chopped
1 bay leaf
1 good-sized thyme sprig
4 c. (1 litre) chicken stock
salt and pepper
juice of 1/2 to 1 lemon
about 3 tbsp. (45 ml) olive oil
1 cured chorizo sausage, sliced thinly

Soak the lentils in cold water for 2 hours.** While your lentils are soaking, put your onion, carrot, bay leaf, thyme and chicken stock into a good pot with a heavy bottom. Drain the lentils and stir them into the pot. Cover and simmer until the lentils are very tender, about 30 – 45 minutes.

Turn the heat off and, remove the bay leaf and thyme. Once it's not simmering, purée with an immersion blender. If you're using a traditional blender, let the lentils cool a bit and then purée in two batches. Stir half the lemon juice into the soup. Taste and season with salt and pepper. It's also possible you'll need more lemon. Reheat gently.

In a small, heavy-bottomed frying pan, heat the olive oil. Fry the chorizo slices until they just curl, about 30 seconds. Flip and fry another 15 seconds. Remove to a plate lined with paper towel.

Ladle soup into bowls. Swirl a little chorizo oil on top of each soup. Top with chorizo croûtes.

*Laura says that any bean will work, including chickpeas and white beans, but I haven't strayed from lentils. However, the lighter colour of chickpeas and white beans could be especially pretty with the red chorizo oil.
**If you don't have time, don't worry about it. Just soak them for a few minutes while you prepare your carrot, onion, and herbs. Your lentils will just take a bit longer to cook through.

tuscan white beans

Happy New Year!

And happy time of the bean. In the post-sugar-and-gravy-haze of the holidays, I always like to give you at least one new bean recipe before I go back to dolloping cream over everything.

Last year, it was black-eyed peas with kale and bacon (and a near identical photo – fancy that!).

I seem to have skipped a year in 2012 (it was a leap year, after all), but I did bring you the über-healthy and über-tasty glory bowl.

In 2011, I brought you glorious hummus.

And in 2010, I brought you shortbread. Hmmm . . . maybe I'm not quite as consistent as I think.

Anyway, back to this year's bean dish.

Have you ever eaten a cannellini bean?

I believe it is Italian for "buttery, wonderful bean." That might not be a direct translation.

The cannellini bean is essential for this dish because once it's fully cooked, it magically maintains its nice bean-y texture but also emits a kinds of creamy bean-y goodness. This works very well when you finish it with slivers of golden fennel and carrot that have been softened in good olive oil.

A bit of fresh sage perks it all up, as does a splash of white wine at the very end.

I should tell you that the original recipe calls for both fresh sage and fresh rosemary, but my grocery budget doesn't permit me to buy both. I find a shake of dried marjoram stands in nicely for the fresh rosemary. (The sage is also handy to have on hand to add to brown-butter gnocchi for another meal.)

Anyway, whatever herbs you use and however you want to adjust this, it all cooks up and blends together so well that you will be eating it for many Januaries to come.

Bonus photo! This snowflake just arrived in the mail from friends in Germany.
Isn't it lovely?

tuscan white beans
adapted from Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa: How Easy is That? and Ezra Pound Cake 
serves 6

454 g. (1 lb.) dried white cannellini beans
1/4 c. olive oil
4 c. fennel, chopped (about 2 large fennels)
2 c. carrot, chopped (about 4 carrots)
1 tbsp. garlic, minced
2 – 3 c. chicken stock
1 tbsp. fresh sage leaves, minced
2 tsp. kosher salt (or 1 tsp. regular salt)
1/2 tsp. freshly-ground pepper
1/2 – 2/3 c. Asiago, Parmesan, or Pecorino Romano cheese, grated
splash of white wine
(optional) couple shakes of dried marjoram powder
(optional) 1 tbsp. fresh rosemary, minced

You have two options for soaking the beans: slow and quick.

Slow option: Cover the beans with water at least two inches higher than the beans. Cover and refrigerate overnight or 8 hours.

Quick option: Cover the beans with water at least two inches higher than the beans. Bring to a boil. Turn off the heat, cover and let sit for 1 hour.

Strain and rinse the beans. Put them back in the pot and add about twice as much water as beans. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer uncover until they are tender, about 45 minutes (depending how old your beans are).

In the meantime, heat a Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the olive oil. Stir in the fennel and carrot. Cook 8 – 10 minutes, until tender. Stir in the garlic and cook 1 more minute.

Once the beans have cooked, strain them and add them to the vegetables.

Add 2 cups of the stock, sage, salt and pepper. Also add the marjoram or rosemary, if using. Bring to a simmer and cover. Stir occasionally and simmer for 15 – 30 minutes, until the beans are a very tender and a bit creamy. Add more stock if you'd like it a bit saucier.

Add the wine. Turn the heat off. Stir in the cheese. Taste for salt and pepper (you'll probably need more.) Serve hot with a piece of crusty bread or cheesy toast.

cauliflower and mull cheddar soup

Have you heard of a Scottish genius called Nick Nairn?

Growing up in Canada, I had not – until I found his big glossy book at a bookshop in Inverness a few years ago. I carted New Scottish Cookery back across the pond and he has joined us for quite a few dinners here in the new world.

Scott especially has made outstanding (and time consuming!) dishes from Nick's recipes. I'm talking baked filet of halibut with cabbage, smoked bacon and a tarragon cream sauce, not to mention lasagne of smoked haddock and peas, which is much more elegant than it sounds and involves a homemade vegetable butter sauce.

There's also a genius spicy salmon broth that comes together very quickly and has lemongrass and chillies practically bursting out of it.

For my birthday weekend this year, Scott offered to make me a new recipe from New Scottish Cookery. I opened the book with great anticipation, but only got three recipes in.

The bright green herb oil drizzled over the white cauliflower and mull cheddar soup got me.

Looking at it, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this might be the cauliflower cheese soup I have been searching for all my life. This might be the one that wouldn't break into watery pockets of bland cauliflower purée. This might be the one that would be supremely creamy and still have lots of cheesy flavour. This might be it.

It is.

And it's so simple that we are now making it regularly on weeknights. It really just has five ingredients: onion and garlic softened in a good amount of butter, cauliflower and some kind of nice cheddar cheese. We like an Irish cheddar called Kerrygold Reserve, although it is possible I was seduced by the handsome wrapper.

Yes, we've made the herb oil too, but you know what?

Aside from looking pretty, it's not really necessary. The soup itself has so much cheesy-cauliflower flavour that it doesn't need any fancy herb oil to gunk up my immersion blender. Adding a bit of chopped parsley also looks pretty and is a lot less work.

Thank you, Nick Nairn, for your new Scottish cookery.

one year ago: mango love on oahu
two years ago: sour cream coffee cake and dutch marzipan cookies
three years ago: chocolate nut balls

cauliflower and mull cheddar soup
slightly adapted from New Scottish Cookery
feeds six

50 g. (2 oz) butter
1 onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1 large cauliflower, chopped finely (1 – 2 cm pieces)
140 – 175 g. (5 – 6 oz) Mull Cheddar, Kerrygold Reserve Cheddar or other aged white cheddar,    grated
freshly ground sea salt and black pepper
1 tbsp. fresh parsley, finely chopped, to garnish

Warm a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat. Add the butter and let it melt. Add the onion. Stir often and cook until it's translucent, golden and almost softened, about 8 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for another minute.

While the onion and garlic are cooking, fill a kettle with 1 litre (4 c.) of water and set it to boil.

Add the cauliflower and boiled water to the onion and garlic. Bring it to a boil, and simmer until the cauliflower is tender, about 20 minutes. Take it off the heat.

Purée the soup with an immersion blender until it's quite smooth. Return the pot to the element and turn the heat on low. Add a small handful of cheese and stir it in until melted. Repeat until all the cheese is melted in. (If you add it all at once, it will clump.) Turn the heat off.

Serve with fresh cracked pepper and chopped parsley on top.

Note: Nick Nairn says that if you'd like to freeze the soup, don't add the cheddar. Instead, add the cheddar when you reheat it.

stinging nettle soup

I always remember visiting my great aunt Marjorie in the spring. After dinner, at twilight, she would send me out into the garden with shears and tell me to pick flowers to take home.

The grass would be wet with evening coming on, and I would find little white daffodils with orange faces and big tulips with pointed red petals. I'd bring them in and we'd wrap them in damp paper towel and plastic wrap, so I could transport them safely home.

Marjorie died just over a week ago.

We knew it was coming for a few weeks but, of course, knowing is different than attending the memorial service. Knowing is different than going out for a big dinner with your family and seeing that Marjorie isn't there.

But for those two days while I was there, Victoria was glorious with spring. The sky was a perfect blue of sunshine and everywhere I looked, there were fat pink globes of cherry blossoms and riots of yellow daffodils and red tulips in the garden and bluebells nodding in the grass along the road.

Knowing how she loved her garden, I think Marjorie would have been pleased that we were all there remembering her, chatting under blossoms and shading our eyes in the sun.

Now that I am back in dusty Edmonton where we have just one-inch shoots of tulips to promise spring, I think more about death and that she is gone. Grief is a funny thing, how it can sneak up on you when you think it's gone away.

After the memorial service, I went up to Courtenay with my dad for a few days.

It seemed like everywhere we went, people were talking about stinging nettles. They grow in ditches and in the bush and in all kinds of places where you might accidentally brush against them and get stung.

We found out that as long as you process the nettles in boiling water, they shed the toxin that stings.

So, an hour before we had to leave for the airport yesterday, Dad and I hurried down to the beach. We got out bags and put on gloves and I brought a little bounty of stinging nettle home.

Today, I made stinging nettle soup. It is a simple little soup, and was inspired by this lovely video.

It tastes like spring.

recipes from Marjorie: loganberry jelly and lemon loaf and butter tarts
one year ago: gouda and roasted red pepper dip
two years ago: a baked banana revelation
three years ago: chocolate cheesecake and tom yum pak




stinging nettle soup

note 1: you must wear rubber gloves when touching the nettles before they've been processed
note 2: you must boil the lentils and rinse them and throw away the boiling water

1 very small onion or two shallots, minced (equals about 1/4 c.)
2 tbsp. butter
2 c. packed nettles (top 4 – 6 leaves only), rinsed
2 c. chicken stock
salt and pepper to taste
4 – 5 tbsp. plain Greek yogurt or sour cream

Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed pot over low heat and add the onions. Let them cook slowly in the butter until they're golden and translucent, about 10 minutes.

In the meantime, bring a big pot of water to boil. Add the nettles and boil for about 3 minutes, until they're a bit greener and darker. Strain and rinse them. Chop the nettles on a board a few times to avoid having them clump on the immersion blender. (If you're using a real blender, you can skip the chopping.)

Add the chicken stock to the onion and butter pot. Add the cooked nettles. Blend until the nettles are very fine specks of green. Heat the soup up and add salt and pepper to taste. Stir the yogurt in and check your seasonings one more time before serving.

german zucchini soup

Is it just me, or does zucchini season start earlier and earlier every year?

I mean, I thought we wouldn’t be inundated until late August . . . Well, in fact, I’m not inundated, I’m charmed. The zucchini are so small and sweet right now that I can’t help but buy them. Yes, I know, I know. They’ll soon be giant monsters breeding in every garden and sitting on every staffroom table with a sign pleading for me to please, please just take it away.

That means it’s time to take stock of our zucchini recipes and get ready for the onslaught. And speaking of stock, zucchini can become a lovely sophisticated, silky soup. Yes, I know those are not normally zucchini adjectives. But you will just have to trust me, because I speak truth.

This recipe comes by way of Halifax from a Hungarian friend who says it’s a German recipe. Ah, Canada, the multicultural mosaic.

You start by slowly wilting your onions in a good whack of butter and a bit of olive oil to keep that same butter from burning. The onions start to glisten and look like very happy onions indeed.

See, doesn’t that look like a plump, buttery onion?

Then you add a bunch of shredded zucchini, which look like green and yellow ribbons, but make you raise an eyebrow as you wonder exactly how they will transform into sophisticated, silky soup.

You simmer that up with the stock for exactly 12 minutes. (Are you starting to see why this is such a lovely summer recipe? Yes, your kitchen won’t overheat from prolonged stove usage!)

Now, time for magic ingredient number one: white wine. In our case, Gewürztraminer. (Tomorrow, it might be Chardonnay. If you enjoy drinking the wine, I don’t think it can go wrong in your soup.)

Purée that, and you’ll start to see some silkiness creeping in . . .

Now, to finish, stir in magic ingredient number two: the so-rich-it’s-almost-sour-cream plain yogourt. Also, a bit of basil from your little garden.

Gently, gently heat it a little more if it’s a bit too cool for your taste, taking care not to bring it to a boil. (You don’t want to give the yogurt any bad ideas and suddenly separate into curds. Remember: coddle, not curdle.)

Ladle into bowls and serve with a bit more of that fresh basil. A silky and sophisticated way to ease into zucchini season, if I do say so myself.

 last july: minestrone with summer herbs

german zucchini soup

serves 3 - 4

1 tbsp. olive oil

1/4 c. butter

2 onions, roughly chopped

4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

1/2 tsp. kosher salt or 1/4 tsp. regular salt

1/8 – 1/4 tsp. black pepper, to taste

2 1/4 c. zucchini, shredded

2 c. vegetable or chicken stock

1/2 c. white wine

1/2 c. plain yogurt, preferably high fat

fresh basil, chopped

Heat thick saucepan over medium-low heat. Melt butter and olive oil in pan. Add onion and sauté. Turn heat down to cook slowly. After 5 minutes, throw in the garlic, salt and pepper. Fry until onion is almost transparent, about 10 minutes. The onion will glisten and look almost soupy.

Add zucchini and stock. Bring to a boil. Simmer for 12 minutes, uncovered.

Stir in the wine. Whir it all together with an immersion blender or regular blender until it’s creamy. Return to heat. Stir in yogurt and about half of the basil. Heat gently, but don’t let it boil, for fear it will curdle.

Ladle into serving bowls. Place a few bits of basil on top. Serve.

grand forks borscht

 

When I was 10, I met a new best friend. Alison came from a Doukhobor family, and she had just moved to Kelowna from Grand Forks, a little town nestled in the mountains of the West Kootenays of British Columbia.

Doukhobor cooking is, shall we say, not for the faint of heart. The Doukhobors are a pacifist Russian sect who take their anti-violence belief all the way over to not eating meat. But they make up for it with copious amounts of butter and cream.

In fact, their cooking is so amazingly rich that Alison and her family convinced me – a Canadian girl from good meat-eating German-Scottish stock – to become vegetarian.

For 12 years.

Doukhobor food is that good. 

Alas, as is the way of the world when you’re 10, best friends don’t stay best friends for long.

I still dream about the perfect pyrahi – yeasty pockets of dough filled with cottage cheese or peas and drenched with melted butter. And I still make vareniki; think of pierogie-like things, again smothered in butter.

But for a long time, I couldn’t replicate the creamy borscht Alison’s mom made. There are so many different kinds (and spellings) of borscht – with white cabbage and beef bones or pork hocks . . . The list goes on. But none of it was the Doukhobor borscht I longed for – I'm talking dill and cabbage and beets and cream.

Until one fateful day when I was looking through my parents’ old recipe cards and came across a recipe in my mother’s handwriting for Grand Forks borscht. She had written the name “Bea” on the top. I’m not sure who Bea is – I think she might be my mom’s old teaching friend.

The recipe was strange. It called for dill and mashed potatoes and copious amounts of butter and cream, and leaving it out at room temperature over night . . . But it was from Grand Forks. And it called for copious amounts of butter and cream. This, I thought, was a good sign.

And it is. This is the soup I have been missing since I was 12.

Grand Forks borscht is now a winter standard at our house. The recipe makes enough to feed a small army – invariably, I end up splitting it into two large pots halfway through cooking. But it is so very, very comforting and creamy on a cold rainy day. It’s definitely hearty enough for dinner and perfect in your lunch the next day, or frozen to grace a lunch later on. It might even make you consider becoming a vegetarian. 

last march: dahl for dinner, dahling and canadian boterkoek 

grand forks borscht

feeds 10 – 12 hungry people

4 large potatoes, chopped

salt and peper

1/2 – 1 c. whipping cream

3/4 c. – 1 1/4 c. butter

1 large beet, grated

3 large carrots, chopped

3 – 4 sticks celery, chopped

20 – 28 oz. (600 – 825 ml.) diced tomato (canned or fresh)

lots of dill, chopped

3 onions, chopped finely

4 cloves garlic, chopped

1/2 head of purple cabbage, chopped

Boil the potatoes in a large soup pot with lots of salted water. When they are tender, use a slotted spoon to scoop them out into another bowl. Mash them with 1/2 – 1 c. cream and 1/4 – 1/2 c. butter. Season with salt and pepper. Set aside.

Throw the beet, carrots, celery, tomatoes and dill into the potato water and bring to a simmer. After they’ve cooked a few minutes, taste the vegetables and decide if you’d like to add another 1/2 tsp. of salt. Boil until tender.

While the vegetables are boiling, heat a large frying pan over medium heat. Melt the butter and fry the onion and garlic until it’s soft.

If you have another pan at this time, also heat it over medium heat. Melt the butter and fry the cabbage until it has softened.

When the boiling vegetables are soft, throw in the onion, garlic and cabbage. Add more water if you don't have enough stock. Simmer until everything is a soft as you like it in a soup. Stir in the mashed potatoes. Taste and add more salt and pepper as necessary.

Serve. Or, if you follow the original recipe, let stand at room temperature all day or overnight; then heat and serve.

Also freezes well, if you don’t have 10 – 12 people to feed immediately.

west african peanut soup via winnipeg

One crazy winter, I decided to visit friends in Winnipeg in February.

I was living on the West Coast and missing snow, so I thought February would be a perfect time to go to Winterpeg.

I packed my boots and my warmest socks and bravely flew away from the cherry blossoms.

I landed in winter. In fact, it was so wintery that my friend had plugged her car in while it sat for 10 minutes in the airport parking lot.

Perfect, I thought. That was when I could still feel my toes.

Little did I know I was in for a weekend of the coldest weather Winnipeg had that winter. A cold spell settled down over the city, and I was soon seeing billboards advertising the –44 weather. That’s –44 without the wind chill.

I have many cold memories of that weekend. One of my warmest memories – besides seeing my good friends – was a bowl of soup.

I was happily wandering around McNally Robinson, picking up books and thinking that I could stay in that warm haven forever, when I realized it was lunchtime.

The bookstore had a little café in the corner, and I took a chance on the West African peanut soup. It was exactly what I didn’t know I wanted: rich and smooth and earthy, with a spicy kick.

After the first bite, I began plotting how I could get the recipe. When I put my spoon down, I gathered up my bowl and my courage and went back to the counter.

I praised the soup and meekly asked if they could tell me what was in it. The friendly cashier said they might have the recipe and ducked into the back. He came back with the recipe printed out – the recipe I now have encased in a plastic page protector in my recipe binder.

Turns out that besides peanuts, the soup is full of carrots and sweet potatoes that make it thick and light at the same time.

I still love it. I’ve made a couple changes to the original recipe, primarily so that it doesn’t make enough to feed a small army (or bookstore). But it is still just the right bowl of soup to eat on a cold winter day – even if you live on the coast and that means pouring rain.

west african peanut soup

still a big pot of soup – probably enough to serve 8 - 10

2 tbsp. olive oil

1 big onion, roughly chopped

1 tbsp. fresh ginger, grated

1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper

4 big carrots, chopped

2 lbs sweet potatoes (3 or 4), diced

28 oz. crushed tomatoes

1/2 c. peanut butter

8 c. vegetable stock

1/2 – 1 tsp. salt

pepper

honey

Heat heavy-bottomed pot over medium-low heat. Pour in oil and sauté onion until translucent, about 5 – 10 minutes.

Add ginger and sauté 3 more minutes, stirring often.

Add cayenne pepper, carrots, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, peanut butter, vegetable stock and 1/2 tsp. of salt. Bring to a boil; then simmer until the vegetables are well cooked, about 20 minutes. Stir often.

Remove from heat and purée. Taste and decide if you’d like to add that other 1/2 tsp. of salt. Grind pepper over. Drop a dollop of honey on, and stir in.

This post is part of Fall Fest 2010, which is a community food blogging event to write about (and eat!) seasonal produce. For more recipes inspired by root vegetables, try these:

The Wright Recipes: Apple, Potato and Celery Root Mash

San Diego Foodstuff: Roasted Carrot and Fennel Soup with Miso

Gilded Fork: Hidden Jewels of Harvest
Cooking Channel: Roasted Beet Salad
Food Network UK: Return to Your Roots
Food2: Easy Roasted Root Veggies
Food Network: Root Veggie Sides to Try
Healthy Eats: In-Season Root Veggies
Pinch My Salt: Rutabaga Puff
The Sister Project: Sweet and Savory Soup Too Good to Hide