Kim Nguyen was born in Hanoi, grew up in Saigon, and now lives in Columbus, Ohio. She can tell the story of her life through her experiences with cooking and eating pho, the noodle soup that is considered the national dish of Vietnam. “The first time [a] man tells me that pho was invented in Hanoi, I am sure that he is not well in his head from the war. I was born in Hanoi. In Hanoi, pho is brown water with one piece of meat that you do not dare to eat because maybe, well, you do not know.” She says of the Communists, “They do not like good cooking, good time, or good news.” And she did not like their pho.
“My parents had eight children, I am in the middle, and my father was a soldier. He thought that if we could get to the south, we could get to America. I was very scared because in school, the Communists told us that Saigon is poor and that everyone starves. We get to Saigon and it is sunny and warm. So much food!”
And so many more ingredients in the pho: “Beef tripe, meatballs! Rice noodles. Bean sprouts, cilantro, Thai basil, hoisin sauce, sometimes shrimp! You could never tell what you would find. They sell pho on the streets; my grandmother makes pho with everything she can buy.” Her father decided to leave Vietnam and rented a boat that could fit only half the family, so only the eldest and youngest children went with him.
Mrs. Nguyen was 8 years old. She was one of the middle children who remained in Saigon with their grandmother. Months passed with no news from her father and the others, and her grandmother assumed the worst. Then a decade later, a long-delayed letter arrived in Saigon. “They are in America!” Several years later, when she was 23 years old, Mrs. Nguyen and the rest of the family were reunited with the others in Ohio.
She remembers her first days in America: “My brothers took me to Kroger’s, and all I could do was stand and stare. More food than my whole country in one grocery store.”
Mrs. Nguyen studied English and met a Vietnamese man whom she soon married. Like the hundreds of thousands of immigrants who preceded her, she learned to cook the food that she had left behind, but in America, her efforts in the kitchen were both an homage to her homeland and a celebration of freedom from want.
From all parts of the world, soups that were subsistence fare in the old country could be made bigger and more complex in the new one, thanks to the bounty of America. Minestrone went from an end-of-the-week soup that was often built from odds and ends to a company meal, thickened with up to three kinds of meat and garnished with a cascade of Parmesan cheese. Greek egg soup acquired meatballs, spinach, lemon, and sometimes orzo. Chinese hot and sour soup became thicker and more dense with meat and exotic mushrooms, Mexican chicken and lime soup gained a mountain of fried corn tortillas and all but turned into a taco salad. The fresh tomato soups made in England and central Europe were enriched with cream.
Some of the bigger and better versions of foreign soups were a result of recipes from various regions converging in America. Borscht may have originated in the Ukraine, but the soup met and married so many other Eastern European cousins in the United States that by the early twentieth century, the beet soup was simply attributed to the Jews (et voilà, the Jewish resorts in the Catskill Mountains north of New York City became known as the Borscht Belt).
When Mrs. Nguyen first made pho with her daughters one Sunday, it was, she says, “to remind them of where we came from. Now when I ask what they want, the answer is always pho, pho, pho.” This pho is a far more elaborate affair than the version first mentioned in an American cookbook. In 1936, Recipes of All Nations noted: “Pho is the name of an Annamese soup held in high esteem. It is made with beef, a veal bone, onions, a bay leaf, salt and pepper, and a small teaspoon of nuoc-man [sic], a typically Annamese condiment which is used in practically all their dishes. It is made from a kind of brine exuding from decaying fish.”
When Mrs. Ngyuen and her husband took their daughters back to Vietnam several years ago, “They hated the pho, even in Saigon. They said it wasn’t good, it wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t filling.
“When I was leaving on the airplane I looked down at my country, it was so green and beautiful, and I knew I was leaving behind everything. That I would not be Vietnamese anymore. The morning after I arrived back in the States, it snowed. I had never seen snow. My mother made pho, the best of my life. I knew right away that it was better to be Vietnamese when you are American.”
COLUMBUS, OHIO
This recipe calls for saw-leaf herb, which is also called long coriander. It is similar in taste to cilantro and can be found in Asian markets.
FOR THE BROTH
3 pounds beef marrow or knuckle bones
Two 3-inch pieces fresh ginger, cut in half lengthwise
2 large yellow onions, unpeeled
2 pounds beef short ribs
1 pound boneless beef chuck
¼ cup fish sauce, such as Vietnamese nuoc mam
3 tablespoons sugar
10 whole star anise, lightly toasted in a dry skillet
6 unpeeled garlic cloves, lightly toasted in a dry skillet
1 cinnamon stick
1 tablespoon coarse sea salt
FOR THE GARNISH AND NOODLES
½ pound boneless beef sirloin
1 pound dried rice sticks, 
-inch wide
Vietnamese Meatballs (recipe follows), optional
1 large yellow onion, sliced paper thin
3 scallions, green and white parts, cut into thin rings
1 bunch fresh cilantro, with stems, chopped
1 pound mung bean sprouts
1 bunch basil (preferably Thai basil), separated into sprigs
10 sprigs fresh mint
12 saw-leaf herb leaves (optional)
6 Thai bird chiles or 1 serrano chile, cut into thin rings
1 lime, cut into 6 thin wedges
1. To make the broth: At least 1 day before you plan to serve the pho, preheat the oven to 400°F. Place the bones in a roasting pan and roast, turning frequently, until fragrant and nicely browned, about 20 minutes.
2. While the bones are roasting, set a bowl of cold water by the stove. Use the flat side of a knife to slightly flatten the ginger pieces. Turn a burner on high. One at a time, place the ginger pieces on a cooking fork and hold over the heat, turning frequently to char the skin. When nicely charred, plunge the ginger in cold water. When cool enough to handle, remove the skin and place the ginger in a soup pot.
3. Repeat the charring and peeling process with the onions.
4. When the bones are done, transfer them to the soup pot. Add 1 or 2 cups cold water to the roasting pan and scrape up the bits. Pour the drippings into the soup pot. Add the short ribs, chuck, fish sauce, and sugar. Add enough water to cover everything by at least 2 inches, and set the pot over medium heat. Bring to a boil and immediately reduce the heat to the lowest possible level. Skim frequently to remove impurities that rise to the surface.
5. Wrap the star anise, garlic, and cinnamon in cheesecloth and tie with a long piece of kitchen string. Tie the loose end to the pot handle and the wrapped spices after 1 hour. Remove the spices after 4 hours, but do not discard them.
6. Simmer for 12 hours in all, skimming as needed. Never allow the liquid to boil. Add cold water as necessary to cover the bones by at least 2 inches at all times. In the final hour of cooking, return the wrapped spices to the pot and add the salt.
7. Set a fine-mesh strainer over a tall storage container. Ladle the broth through the strainer. Carefully transfer the short ribs and chuck to a plate until cool enough to handle. Discard the remaining solids.
8. Remove the bones, membranes, and fat from the short ribs and discard. Remove the gristle from the chuck. Shred all the meat into bite-size pieces with a fork and return to the broth. Cover and refrigerate overnight.
9. About 45 minutes before serving, skim the layer of fat from the broth and transfer the broth to a large saucepan over low heat.
10. Place the sirloin in the freezer for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, place the noodles in a large bowl, cover with hot water, and soak for 15 minutes. Drain the noodles in a colander and run cold water over them. If using the meatballs, at least 20 minutes before serving, add them to the broth or warm them separately in a little broth to serve on the side. Warm six large, deep bowls. Arrange the remaining garnishes in serving bowls on the table.
11. For the garnish: with a very sharp knife, slice the sirloin across the grain into wafer-thin slices. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Plunge the noodles into the boiling water for 1 minute, then drain. Divide noodles into the six bowls. Ladle the broth and cooked meats over the noodles, top with the raw sirloin and serve. Guests can customize their pho by adding garnishes at the table.
SERVES 6 WITH ENOUGH BROTH AND COOKED MEAT FOR ANOTHER MEAL
These meatballs are traditionally braised in Vietnamese caramel sauce and eaten between slices of bread or spread like pâté. For this soup, they are browned in a skillet but finish cooking in the broth.
1 pound ground chuck
2 tablespoons fish sauce, such as Vietnamese nuoc mam
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon kosher salt
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 shallots, minced
Vegetable oil, for panfrying
1. Line a baking sheet with waxed paper. Using a fork, combine the ground chuck, fish sauce, soy sauce, sugar, pepper, salt, garlic, and shallots in a large bowl. Shape the mixture into 2-inch balls and place on the baking sheet. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
2. Warm several tablespoons of oil in a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, add the meatballs, taking care not to crowd the pan. Fry, turning carefully to brown on all sides, and transfer them to an unlined baking sheet. If making ahead, cover them with plastic wrap, and refrigerate until needed.
MAKES ABOUT 20 MEATBALLS
FAIRBANKS, ALASKA
Until it was sold to the United States in 1867, Alaska was part of the Russian empire, and the onion-shaped domes of Orthodox churches still rise against the sky. Through Russians, Russian descendants, and “Creoles” (children of mixed Russian and Native American marriages), Russian dishes have long since become part of Alaskan cooking. When she first arrived to supervise an exchange program for gifted high school students, Olga Napolilii quickly found that borscht, the meaty cabbage and beet soup of Russia, became her lingua franca. “Every Russian and Ukrainian family cherishes their borscht,” she says. People in Alaska relish the hearty soup and want to know the secret of making the best. Some add navy beans, some like it sweeter, some more tart, some add beef, some use water, some add kielbasa at the end. Ms. Napolilii, who settled in Fairbanks, where she now teaches school, promises that no matter what recipe is used, borscht is always better on the second day.
½ pound slab bacon or pancetta
2 quarts homemade beef broth or low-sodium store-bought beef broth
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 bay leaves
3 medium Yukon gold potatoes, scrubbed and cut into ½-inch pieces
½ small head green cabbage, cored and shredded
2 medium tomatoes, cored and coarsely chopped
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon distilled white vinegar
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 medium carrots, cut into 2-inch matchsticks
1 medium beet, peeled and shredded
2 garlic cloves, minced
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup sour cream, for garnish
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley, chives, or dill, for garnish
1. In a Dutch oven, cover the bacon with water by 2 inches, bring to a simmer, and cook for 20 minutes. Remove the bacon and pour out the water.
2. Return the bacon to the pot with the beef broth, onion, and bay leaves. Bring to a simmer, cover, and cook about 2 hours, until tender.
3. Transfer the bacon to a carving board to cool slightly; separate the meat from the fat and skin. Discard fat and skin and finely chop the meat.
4. Strain the broth and discard the solids. Clean the pot and return the broth to the pot. Add the potatoes and cabbage, bring to a simmer, and cook for 15 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes, sugar, and vinegar, and cook for 2 minutes.
5. Meanwhile, in a medium skillet, heat the oil over medium-low heat. Add the carrots and beet and cook about 10 minutes, until soft. Stir in the garlic and cook about 1 minute, until aromatic.
6. Stir the carrot mixture and reserved bacon into the broth. Cook about 5 minutes, until the flavors have blended. Season with salt and pepper to taste.To serve, ladle into bowls and garnish with the sour cream and herbs.
SERVES 6
TRACEY, CALIFORNIA
Sharon Martinelli has been recording her family’s favorite recipes in a three-ring binder for decades. They are part of her inheritance. She got this recipe, a variation on a classic Eastern European soup, from a friend of a friend. She serves it as a main course, accompanied by bread and salad. It is so good that it can be intimidating. “To my family, I am the best cook in the world,” she says. “My son brought a girlfriend home for dinner not long ago and she kept saying ‘I don’t know if I can compete with you as a cook.’”
One 1-pound bottom or top round steak, trimmed and cut into ¾-inch pieces
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
6 cups homemade beef broth or low-sodium store-bought beef broth
One 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes
½ pound green beans, trimmed and cut into 2-inch lengths
8 ounces white mushrooms, thinly sliced (optional)
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 celery stalk, finely chopped
4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
½ cup fresh or frozen peas or corn (optional)
½ cup pearl barley
3 carrots, peeled and cut into ½-inch pieces
½ cup grated pecorino Romano cheese (about 2 ounces), for garnish
1. Pat the beef dry and season with salt and pepper. In a Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the beef and cook for 6 to 8 minutes, until well browned on all sides.
2. Pour off the excess fat from the pot and stir in the broth, tomatoes with their juice, green beans, mushrooms (if using), half of the onion, celery, garlic, peas (if using), and barley. Bring to a simmer and cook about 1 hour.
3. Stir in the remaining onion and the carrots and cook about 35 to 45 minutes more, until the carrots are soft and the meat is tender. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
4. To serve, ladle into bowls and sprinkle with the cheese.
SERVES 6 TO 8
BRANDON, SOUTH DAKOTA
“My great-grandmother’s family immigrated to Texas from Germany around the turn of the century,” says Becca Vlasta, a pediatrician. “They didn’t like the heat, so they moved north near the town now called Tabor, in South Dakota. They didn’t like the cold there, plus life in general was harder. They lived in a mud hut, and when the snow got too heavy, the ceiling would fall down in little clumps. When I was little, my grandmother told me that if you live in a mud hut you better cook in a covered pot. Her sister, Tati, kept this soup in a big covered pot buried in the coals of her cook fire. It acted as both furnace and dinner. Aunt Tati died when I was 6 years old; she was over 90 years old. She looked about 110 to me, but I thought she was really cool because she baked her soup in my grandmother’s fireplace in Sioux Falls. Everybody was afraid that she’d burn the house down, but she never did. We always had this soup and the soft, buttery cheese bread she made when we visited. I’m fortunate to have a wood oven on my terrace, so I make Tati’s vegetable soup in a ten-gallon cast-iron pot on Saturday, and we eat it for lunch after church on Sunday in the winter. When I don’t have spaetzle, I serve the soup with big, rustic croutons that I make by taking bite-size hunks of stale bread, tossing them with olive oil, and letting them dry out in the oven while the soup bakes.”
Lard was traditionally used for cooking this soup, but Dr. Vlasta uses olive oil.
A prize-winning vegetable arrangement displayed on
Astroturf at the Butler County Fair in Ohio.
1 pound beef chuck-eye roast, trimmed and cut into ¾-inch chunks
2 teaspoons coarse kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil or vegetable oil
1 small chicken, cut into quarters
1 cup high quality canned crushed tomatoes
2 medium yellow onions, finely chopped
½ cup parched corn, dried hominy, or frozen corn kernels
1 red bell pepper, coarsely chopped
4 celery stalks, coarsely chopped
4 carrots, coarsely chopped
1 parsnip, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 cup fresh or frozen lima beans
1 cup brown lentils
1 cup yellow split peas
1 cup green split peas
1 smoked ham hock
10 cups homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth, plus more as needed
1 cup dried spaetzle or short, thick pasta (such as rotini or gemelli)
Red pepper flakes to taste
Toasted croutons, for garnish (optional)
1. Preheat the oven to 250°F. Pat the beef dry and season it lightly with salt and black pepper. In a Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the beef and cook for 6 to 8 minutes, until well browned on all sides. With a slotted spoon, transfer the beef to a large bowl.
2. Season the chicken lightly with salt and black pepper. Brown it on both sides in the Dutch oven, about 6 to 8 minutes. Use the slotted spoon to transfer it to the bowl with the beef.
3. Reduce the heat to low, add the crushed tomatoes, and cook, stirring frequently. Add the onions, corn, bell pepper, celery, carrots, parsnip, and lima beans, and stir to combine. Add the lentils and the split peas. Return the beef and the chicken to the pot, and add the ham hock, chicken broth, and enough water to cover the ingredients by 1 inch. Season with half of the remaining salt and black pepper.
4. Cover the pot tightly and place in the oven for 1 hour. Do not allow the broth to boil or the meat will toughen.
5. Reduce the heat to 225°F and bake for 4 hours. Add additional broth or water to keep the ingredients covered by 1 inch.
6. Stir in the spaetzle, add red pepper flakes to taste, and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper. Cover and return the soup to the oven. When it returns to a simmer—about 10 minutes—turn off the heat and leave the pot in the warm oven overnight.
7. Warm the soup on the stovetop prior to serving in large bowls, garnished with toasted croutons, if desired.
SERVES 8 TO 12 AS A MAIN COURSE
MCLEAN, VIRGINIA
Homa Movafaghi grew up in Mashhad, Iran, and moved to the United States thirty years ago. During the workweek, she is a public school administrator. In the evenings and on weekends, she assumes her favorite role, that of tutor, and focuses on her favorite subject, teaching Farsi to Americans and third-generation Iranian Americans. She organizes poetry nights in which all verse is recited in Farsi. She feels that cooking is as powerful a cultural ambassador as language, and makes this soup for the picnic that is traditionally held the thirteenth day after the Persian New Year, Sizdah Bedar, in the early spring. The soup is finished when it is not too watery and not too thick. You should be able to see all of the ingredients.
10 cups water
6½ cups homemade beef broth or low-sodium store-bought beef broth
¼ cup dried red kidney beans, soaked in cold water overnight or in boiling water for 3 hours and drained
¼ cup dried navy beans, soaked in cold water overnight or in boiling water for 3 hours and drained
6 tablespoons olive oil
3 medium onions, finely chopped
12 garlic cloves, minced
One 15-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
½ pound spinach, stemmed and coarsely chopped
1 bunch scallions, green and white parts, coarsely chopped
1 cup coarsely chopped fresh parsley
1 cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro
1 cup coarsely chopped fresh dill
2 teaspoons ground turmeric
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons dried mint
4 ounces reshteh (Persian wheat noodles) or cappellini, broken into 3 pieces
1 cup sour cream or kashk(See Note)
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon ground saffron mixed with 2 tablespoons hot water
1. In a Dutch oven, combine the water, broth, and kidney beans. Bring to a simmer and cook for 30 to 45 minutes, until just beginning to become tender.
2. Stir in the navy beans and simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until all the beans are tender.
3. In a large skillet, heat 3 tablespoons of the oil over medium heat. Add the onions and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, until the onions begin to brown. Stir in the garlic and cook about 1 minute, until aromatic. Add half the onion mixture to the soup and set aside the remaining onion mixture for garnish.
4. Stir the chickpeas, spinach, scallions, parsley, cilantro, dill, turmeric, 1 teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper into the soup. Bring to a simmer, partially covered, and cook over low heat for 2 to 3 hours, until the soup thickens.
5. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, heat the remaining 3 tablespoons oil over medium heat. Add the mint and cook about 10 seconds. Remove from the heat.
6. Stir the noodles into the soup and cook for 5 to 10 minutes, until tender.
7. In a small bowl, whisk together the sour cream, lemon juice, and ½ teaspoon salt. Stir all but 2 tablespoons of the sour cream mixture into the soup, then stir in the mint oil.
8. To serve, ladle into bowls, sprinkle with the reserved onion mixture, and drizzle with the remaining sour cream mixture and saffron water.
SERVES 6
NOTE: When Ms. Movafaghi first moved to the United States, it was difficult to find kashk, the special whey that is traditionally used to make this soup, so she got in the habit of using sour cream. Kashk is far more available today.
Persia, Cossacks at lunch, circa 1900.
ORLANDO, FLORIDA
When Mavis Lowe was 12 years old, living on the island of Grenada, her mother had a stroke. She remembers that her mother told Lizzie, the woman who helped around the house, “‘Show this child everything you can do in the kitchen.’ So, everything I cook is West Indian that I learned from Lizzie, rather than my mother, including this pumpkin soup.”
Mrs. Lowe married at age 19 and bore five children. She moved to the United States in 1942 and worked as a nurse for twenty-five years before retiring in Orlando. Her pumpkin soup is popular with everyone, especially her four living children. “It is a West Indian recipe,” she says. “Most people make it in the islands.”
She married her current husband, James Lowe, who is of Chinese descent and grew up in Jamaica, ten years ago. Nowadays, Mrs. Lowe only reaches for her pots when someone asks her to make one of her traditional soups. “My husband does most of the cooking,” she laughs, “which is fine by me. He’s a very, very nice man, and he loves to make his Chinese food. I’m a very lucky woman.”
This pumpkin soup can be made without plantains, yams, and dumplings, but with them it becomes a main course. Tannia root is native to the Americas and West Indies. Also known as malangá in Cuba and yautia in Puerto Rico, it belongs to the same family as taro.
½ pound pig tails
12 or 13 cups water
1½ pounds pumpkin, peeled, seeded, and cut into large chunks
2¼ cups all-purpose flour (optional)
Kosher salt
2 green plantains, peeled and thinly sliced (optional)
2 sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces (optional)
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 scallions, green and white parts, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tannias, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 red chile, stemmed, seeded, and finely chopped
1 sprig fresh thyme
Freshly ground black pepper
1. In a Dutch oven, cover the pig tails with 12 cups of the water. Bring to a simmer and cook about 2 hours, until tender.
2. Stir in the pumpkin and cook about 40 minutes, until the pumpkin is soft. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the pumpkin to a food processor and process until smooth. Return the pumpkin puree to the pot.
3. If making dumplings, in a medium bowl, combine the flour and 1 teaspoon salt. Stir in the remaining 1 cup water until a dough forms. Portion and form into 12 small balls.
4. Stir the plantains and yams (if using), the onion, scallions, garlic, tannias, chile, and thyme into the soup and bring to a simmer over high heat. Add the dumplings, one at a time. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for 10 to 15 minutes, until the vegetables are soft and the dumplings are cooked through.
5. Discard the pig tails and the thyme sprig. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 6 TO 8
YONKERS, NEW YORK
When it comes to ritual, Pamela Gurock is fervently pan-denominational. She’s borrowed from the pagan winter solstice festival to create her Christmas celebration, from secular history to mount a Pilgrim pageant for Thanksgiving, and from a Druid’s reverence for nature to observe Sukkoth, the Jewish harvest festival in the late fall. She has celebrated Sukkoth in a lean-to of woven vines, grapes, and leaves on a terrace thirty stories above Park Avenue, on a low-lying table under a pup tent in the garden of a tenement, and in a sturdy caterer’s tent on a patio in a New York City suburb. This stout, steamy soup is so insulating and satisfying, it could be dinner itself.
3 quarts water
1 pound gruenkern (green wheat kernels), rinsed and soaked overnight
4 pounds beef short ribs
2 meaty beef shin bones
2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
3 medium carrots, peeled and coarsely chopped
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. In a large Dutch oven, combine the water, gruenkern, short ribs, bones, onion, and carrots with 2 teaspoons salt and ½ teaspoon pepper. Bring the mixture to a simmer over medium heat, skimming off the foam as it rises. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook about 2 hours, until the wheat is soft and the meat is tender and falling off the bones.
2. Transfer the short ribs and beef bones to a carving board to cool slightly, then separate the meat from the bones. Discard the fat and gristle, cut the meat into ½-inch pieces, and return it to the soup. Scoop out any marrow and return it to the pot. Discard the bones.
3. Skim any fat off the surface of the soup. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 8 TO 10
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
The late Barbara Tropp, an anthropologist who spent years studying Asian cultures before opening her restaurants, was admired by serious Chinese food fanatics—and feared by pretenders. She credited this soup with much of her success.
3 to 3½ pounds chicken necks and backs, cut into 2-inch pieces
4 quarts water
One 1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled, cut into 4 coins, and smashed
1 large scallion, cut into 3-inch lengths and smashed
4 whole Sichuan peppercorns (optional)
1. In a large Dutch oven, combine the chicken bones and water. Bring to a simmer over low heat, skimming off the foam as it rises, and cook for 15 minutes. Add the ginger, scallion, and peppercorns (if using), and simmer for 3 to 4 hours, without stirring, until the liquid is reduced by half. Make sure liquid never boils.
2. Remove the pot from the heat and let sit for 30 minutes.
3. Line a fine-mesh strainer or colander with a triple layer of damp cheesecloth and set it over a tall container. Gently ladle the broth into the strainer, being careful not to include any sediment from the pot. Refrigerate the broth until needed. Skim any fat from the broth before using. The broth may be frozen up to two months.
MAKES ABOUT 8 CUPS
OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA
The first time Faith Kramer tasted Sichuan-style hot and sour soup, she had a cold. “A friend came over with take-out from a place in San Francisco,” she says. “One whiff and my sinuses cleared. One taste and I knew it was not just medicine for my cold but my soul.” A good hot and sour soup should be spicy and tangy, with a rich, full-bodied taste and lots of texture from mushrooms and vegetables, she says. Now married, Ms. Kramer is rearing two sons, cooking constantly, and blogging about it all.
3 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons shaoxing wine (Chinese rice wine) or dry sherry
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons cornstarch
Freshly ground black pepper
6 ounces boneless, skinless chicken thighs, trimmed and cut into 1½- by ¼-inch strips
¼ cup dried lily buds
¼ cup dried wood ear mushrooms
6 medium dried shiitake mushrooms
Boiling water
1-ounce bundle cellophane (bean thread) noodles
6 cups chicken broth, homemade, or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
One 1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled
1 carrot, cut into 1½- by ¼-inch strips
½ small head bok choy, white stalks only, trimmed and cut into 1½- by ½-inch strips
8 ounces firm tofu, cut into ¼-inch cubes
⅓ cup rice vinegar, plus more to taste
1 tablespoon Asian sesame oil
Sugar to taste
Chili oil (optional)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro, for garnish
2 scallions, green and white parts, thinly sliced, for garnish
1. In a medium bowl, whisk together 1 tablespoon each of the soy sauce, wine, water, cornstarch, and ⅛ teaspoon pepper. Add chicken, and mix until combined. Set aside.
2. In a medium bowl, combine the lily buds, wood ears, and shiitakes and cover with boiling water. Let sit about 15 minutes, until soft. In a small bowl, cover the noodles with cold water and let sit about 15 minutes, until soft.
3. Drain the mushrooms. Halve the lily buds crosswise. Remove and discard any hard bits from the wood ears. Rinse the shiitakes to remove any grit from their gills. Thinly slice the mushrooms. Drain the noodles and cut them into 2- to 3-inch lengths.
4. In a Dutch oven, combine the chicken broth and ginger. Bring to a simmer and cook for 15 minutes. Discard the ginger. Stir in the lily buds, wood ears, shiitakes, noodles, carrot, and bok choy. Return to a simmer, stir in the chicken and marinade, cover, and cook for 2 to 3 minutes.
5. Gently stir in the tofu, the remaining 2 tablespoons soy sauce, 2 tablespoons wine, and ¼ teaspoon pepper. In a small bowl, mix together the remaining 1 tablespoon cornstarch and 1 tablespoon water. Add to the soup and cook, stirring constantly, until soup has thickened.
6. Stir in the vinegar and sesame oil, remove the soup from the heat, season with sugar, vinegar, pepper, and chili oil (if using) to taste. Ladle into bowls and garnish with the cilantro and scallions.
SERVES 6
ERIE, PENNSYLVANIA
When Miss Gillis, a proper, young Pennsylvania Dutch lady, married Mr. Faso, a Sicilian, they “talked about food, argued about food, obsessed about food, even glorified it,” says Miss Gillis’s granddaughter, food writer Melanie Barnard. Ms. Barnard has spent much of her life finding culinary bridges, like this classic Pennsylvania Dutch noodle soup enlivened with basil and grated cheese. “My Pennsylvania Dutch grandma, Cecelia Shepard Gillis, made the egg noodles from scratch, and my Sicilian nonna [grandmother] Stephanie Faso grew a lot of herbs. They never made this soup together; the coalition is from my mother, Marianne Faso, who cooked constantly.” To keep the chicken succulent, Ms. Barnard poaches it for only an hour—less than one would to make a full-bodied chicken broth—and then adds high quality commercial broth to boost the flavor. Homemade fresh or frozen stock could certainly be substituted for the store-bought stock in the recipe. The result, which she sometimes serves with Pennsylvania Dutch biscuits and other times with Italian bread or bread sticks, is clear evidence of the power of a “melting pot.”
FOR THE BROTH
10 cups water
One 3½- to 4-pound chicken with neck, cut into 8 pieces and trimmed
1 onion, quartered
1 carrot, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 celery stalk, cut into 1-inch pieces
½ small fennel bulb, cored and cut into 1-inch pieces
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley stems
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano
1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 bay leaf
3 black peppercorns
FOR THE SOUP
1 quart low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
2 carrots, thinly sliced
½ cup fresh or thawed frozen peas
12 ounces Fresh Egg Noodles (recipe follows) or 8 ounces store-bought very thin dried egg noodles
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese (about 1 ounce), plus more for garnish
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. To make the broth: In a large Dutch oven, cover chicken and all of the vegetables and seasonings with water and bring to a simmer over low heat. Skim off the foam as it rises, and cook for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until the chicken is firm and an instant-read thermometer reads 175°F in the thighs and drumsticks and 165°F in the breasts.
2. Transfer the chicken to a carving board until cool enough to handle. Remove the skin from the chicken and the meat from the bones and shred the meat into bite-size pieces. Strain the broth through a fine-mesh strainer and return it to the Dutch oven. Skim any fat from the broth.
3. To make the soup: Add the store-bought broth to the pot and bring to a simmer. Add the carrots and cook for 2 minutes. Add the peas and noodles and cook for 3 to 4 minutes more, until the noodles are tender. Stir in the chicken and cook about 1 minute, until heated through. Remove from the heat and stir in the cheese and basil. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
4. To serve, ladle the soup into bowls and garnish with more cheese.
SERVES 6
1½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons olive oil
2 teaspoons water, plus more as needed
2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
½ teaspoon kosher salt
1. Combine all the ingredients in a food processor and process about 1 minute, until a ball of dough forms. If the dough does not come together, add water, 1 teaspoon at a time, until it does. Transfer the dough to a lightly floured counter and knead by hand about 3 minutes until smooth. Shape into a ball, cover, and let rest for 10 minutes.
2. Lightly flour a rimmed baking sheet. If using a pasta machine, follow the directions for making noodles about ⅛ inch thick and ½ inch wide. Cut the noodles into 2-inch lengths. If rolling the dough by hand, lightly flour your work surface. Roll the dough until ⅛ inch thick, then cut it into ½ by 2 inches. Spread the noodles out on the baking sheet to dry for at least 15 minutes or up to 2 hours before using.
MAKES ABOUT 12 OUNCES
GREENFIELD CENTER, NEW YORK
Joseph Bruchac, a writer and storyteller, lives with his wife, Carol, in the same house in the Adirondacks where he was raised by his maternal grandmother. His grandfather Jesse Bowman was an Abenaki Indian and his grandmother Maryann Dunham came from a Mayflower family. Mr. Bruchac’s stories draw on the majestic New York mountains and his Abenaki forebears. His grandmother, who taught him to cook, passed away when he was 16, but not before making him self-sufficient. He continues to garden, forage, and seek out indigenous meat like buffalo and moose.
This rice soup is a special occasion dish. Wild rice, an aquatic grass that grows in the Great Lakes region, was considered sacred. Mr. Bruchac tells the story of Nanabozho, a Native American hero who went out in his canoe looking for something good to eat: “The grasses brushed alongside his canoe and spoke to him, whispering, ‘We’re good to eat.’ Nanabozho responded, ‘That’s too easy, I’ve got to keep going, I have to find something good.’ He found and ate a plant that made him ill. When he was well enough to start the return journey, his boat brushed by the same grasses and again they said, ‘We’re good to eat.’ He listened and cooked the grains, which he ate and enjoyed.”
According to native mythology, those grasses were the first wild rice eaten by man. “From then on,” says Mr. Bruchac, “people have found wild rice and accepted it as a great blessing. Nanabozho’s story is so typical of humanity: we don’t see the obvious in front of us; we take things for granted.”
2 quarts water
Three ¾-pound turkey drumsticks
1 medium onion, finely chopped
4 ounces white mushrooms, coarsely chopped
1 green bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and coarsely chopped
1 teaspoon dried thyme
2 medium Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch pieces
2 carrots, coarsely chopped
½ cup winter squash, coarsely chopped and peeled
1 cup cooked wild rice
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. In a large Dutch oven, bring the water, turkey, onion, mushrooms, bell pepper, and thyme to a simmer over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook about 1½ hours, until the meat is tender and falling off the bone.
2. Transfer the drumsticks to a plate and cool slightly. Remove the skin and bones and shred the meat into bite-size pieces.
3. Stir the potatoes, carrots, and squash into the soup. Bring to a simmer and cook about 30 minutes, until the vegetables are tender. Stir in the reserved turkey and wild rice, and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 4 TO 6
TROY, MISSOURI
Rosalie Harpole learned how to make this soup by watching her mother prepare it for the weddings that she catered. Her paternal and maternal grandparents were children when they relocated from Rome and Sicily, respectively, and settled in Missouri and Louisiana. Rosalie’s father was a butcher, famed for his sausages and spiedini, and her mother was admired for her Sicilian cooking, so they were often prevailed upon to prepare weddings. The celebrations were usually for 300 to 400 people and began with a ten a.m. mass and breakfast. This soup was always featured, along with tomato and olive sandwiches, cheese, fruit, and clusters of grapes at the midday meal. At seven p.m., the big party began, with a live band, dancing, pasta and meatballs, chicken and fancy red sauce, homemade Italian breads, salad, and, of course, spiedini. After her mother’s death, Rosalie compiled and self-published her mother’s recipes in a book called Rosalie Serving Italian.
One 3- to 4-pound whole chicken
5 quarts water
3 celery stalks with leaves, halved crosswise
2 medium carrots, halved crosswise
1 medium onion, halved
3 fresh parsley sprigs
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pound 85% lean ground beef
¼ cup plain bread crumbs
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
2 large eggs
1 head escarole, coarsely chopped
8 ounces acini di pepe pasta
1 ounce Parmesan cheese, grated (about ½ cup; optional)
1. In a large Dutch oven, combine the chicken, water, celery, carrots, onion, parsley sprigs, 1 tablespoon salt, and ½ teaspoon pepper. Bring to a simmer over low heat, skimming off the foam as it rises, and cook for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until the chicken is firm and a meat thermometer reads 175°F in the thighs and drumsticks and 165°F in the breasts.
2. Transfer the chicken to a carving board and let cool. Strain the broth through a fine-mesh strainer and return it to the Dutch oven. Skim any fat from the broth. Remove the meat and shred or cut into bite-size pieces.
3. In a medium bowl, mix together the beef, bread crumbs, garlic, parsley, eggs, 1 teaspoon salt, and ⅛ teaspoon pepper. Using wet hands, form the mixture into teaspoon-size balls, about 1 inch in diameter.
4. Bring the broth to a simmer, drop in the meatballs, one at a time, and cook for 5 to 10 minutes, until cooked through.
5. Return the chicken to the broth, stir in the escarole and pasta, and cook for about 10 minutes, until the pasta is tender. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
6. To serve, ladle into bowls, garnish with pepper and cheese (if using), and serve.
SERVES 8 TO 10
BOULDER, COLORADO
Elana Amsterdam was not about to abandon her family’s matzo ball tradition when she was diagnosed with celiac disease. Unable to tolerate gluten, a protein in wheat, rye, and barley, she came up with this version twelve years ago, using her family recipe and the memory of making matzo balls with her bubbe. Blanched almond flour is essential. Unblanched flour will result in “miserable failures,” she warns.
4 large eggs
Kosher salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 cups blanched almond flour, preferably Honeyville, sifted
6 cups homemade chicken broth
1. In a medium bowl, combine the eggs, 1 teaspoon salt, and the pepper. Whisk about 2 minutes, until frothy. Stir in the almond flour until well combined. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours and up to 1 day.
2. In a Dutch oven, bring 3 quarts water and 1 teaspoon salt to a boil. Drop the batter by the tablespoonful into the water. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, until cooked through.
3. Meanwhile, bring the broth to a simmer in a large saucepan. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the balls to the broth and simmer for 5 minutes, uncovered, before serving.
SERVES 6
MATZO BALLS, ALSO CALLED KNAIDLACH, ARE A Jewish Eastern European dumpling traditionally eaten during Passover, generally eaten far more often, and obsessed about more often still. Like most things they love, Americans have tinkered with and personalized them. This goes way back—in the Golden Age of Hollywood, the commissary at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer served broiled matzo balls in dark broth—and people not bound by tradition have added vodka, basil, garlic powder, shiitake mushrooms, green chiles, ground chicken, dill, or scallions. Some claim club soda or seltzer as a secret ingredient, others say that only the water on New York City’s Lower East Side will do. Some substitute vegetable oil for the traditional chicken fat in the recipe, but even traditionalists respect a matzo ball that caters to dietary needs, such as the gluten-free version on this page. Some even allow that regional variations should be viewed with compassion, and perhaps even tasted—at least once. Matzo balls can be small or large, fluffy or dense, depending on the maker’s preference. The dumplings can be made well in advance and frozen, then thawed overnight in the refrigerator and reheated gently in chicken broth.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
When Rayna Green’s grandmother bought matzo balls from a deli in Dallas, she got an idea. Like many things Texan, these dumplings were big, closer to the size of a baseball than a golf ball, and they seemed to want the grill, not the soup pot. “Texans do love to barbecue,” says Dr. Green, who is the director of the American Indian Program at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C. Her grandmother, whose family had been part of the great wave of German immigration to Texas shortly after 1900, split the big things, slathered them with sauce, and put them over a fire. A new cultural hybrid was born. Dr. Green’s mother and her father, a Cherokee from Oklahoma, pushed the boundaries even further when they served the barbecued balls with ribs, instead of in soup. “It’s good,” says Dr. Green, “but I’ve gone back to the traditional soup.”
FOR THE MATZO BALLS
4 large eggs
¼ cup seltzer or tap water
¼ cup schmaltz (chicken fat), melted and cooled
1 teaspoon kosher salt
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper
1 cup matzo meal
FOR THE SAUCE
⅓ cup beer or water
3 tablespoons crushed dried ancho chiles
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon tomato paste
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
FOR THE SOUP (OPTIONAL)
6 cups homemade chicken broth
1. To make the matzo balls: In a medium bowl, using a fork, beat the eggs until combined. Stir in the water, schmaltz, salt, and pepper. Mix in the matzo meal until combined. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes to 1 hour.
2. In a Dutch oven, bring 3 quarts water and 1 teaspoon salt to a boil. Using wet hands, form 2 tablespoons of the dough into balls about 1½ inches in diameter. Drop the balls, one at a time, into the boiling water. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 25 to 30 minutes, until cooked through.
3. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the matzo balls to a large bowl and set aside to cool.
4. To make the sauce: In a medium bowl, combine all the ingredients.
5. If grilling the matzo balls, heat a grill to high. Lightly oil the grate. Cut each matzo ball in half. Grill the halves, cut side down, for 4 to 6 minutes, until heated through and well browned. Carefully transfer them to a serving platter, brush with the sauce, and serve.
6. If serving in soup, bring the broth to a simmer, add the matzo balls, and simmer uncovered for 5 minutes before serving.
SERVES 6
BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA
When Javaher Hassid was growing up in Kashan, Iran, she learned to cook from her mother, and many of those lessons survived the family’s exodus to the United States in 1979. After settling in Southern California, she married, had five children, and, like generations of Farsi women before her, produced an extravagant Shabbat, the traditional Jewish Sabbath meal, every Friday night. America, says Mrs. Hassid, who is now 80 years old and lives with her oldest son and his family, has been good for gundi. “We used to grind the chickpeas by hand, and now we buy it ground into flour at the Persian market,” she says. She serves the meatballs in chicken soup along with lots of fresh herbs and rice.
½ pound ground veal, turkey, or chicken
½ cup finely ground chickpea flour
1 garlic clove, minced
¾ teaspoon ground cardamom
¼ teaspoon ground turmeric
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 quart homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
1. In a medium bowl, mix the meat, chickpea flour, garlic, cardamom, turmeric, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper together until well blended. Cover and refrigerate for 2 hours.
2. In a medium saucepan, bring the broth to a simmer. Meanwhile, using wet hands, form 1 tablespoon of the meat into balls about 1½ inches in diameter. Drop the meatballs, one at a time, into the broth. Cover, reduce the heat, and gently simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, until the meatballs are cooked through. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 4
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
Simca Horowitz spent time in Guatemala when she was a graduate student studying food and agricultural policy. Cooking quickly became the common language: “It creates connections and transcends language barriers,” she says. Nearly a decade later, this soulful Guatemalan iteration of the familiar Mexican tortilla soup remains the dish that her family and friends request most often. Store-bought or frozen broth can be used, but nothing beats a rich, homemade Jewish chicken soup.
Ten 6-inch corn tortillas, cut into ½-inch strips
1 quart water
9 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium red onion, finely chopped
4 cups high quality canned, crushed tomatoes
3 cups homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
2 medium chipotle chiles in adobo sauce, minced
1 teaspoon ground cumin
6 tablespoons fresh lime juice
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro, plus more for garnish
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 ripe avocado, pitted, peeled, and cut into ½-inch cubes, for garnish
2 ounces Cheddar cheese, shredded (about ½ cup), for garnish
1. Place oven rack in the center position and heat the oven to 425°F.
2. Spread the tortilla strips out on a rimmed baking sheet and bake about 15 minutes, until lightly browned and crisp, tossing them halfway through.
3. In a medium saucepan, bring the water and garlic to a simmer and cook for 5 to 10 minutes, until cloves are soft. Transfer the garlic and water to a blender or food processor and process until smooth.
4. In a Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook about 4 minutes, until soft. Add half of the tomatoes and cook about 10 minutes, until soft. Stir in the garlic puree, the remaining tomatoes, chicken broth, chiles, and cumin. Bring to a simmer and cook about 15 minutes, until all the tomatoes are soft. Add the lime juice and cilantro, and season with salt and pepper to taste.
5. To serve, divide the tortillas among four bowls, ladle the soup over the top, and garnish with avocado, cheese, and additional cilantro.
SERVES 4
BOISE, IDAHO
Dan Ansotegui is a mover and shaker in the Basque community in Boise, Idaho. Both his grandfathers immigrated to the United States to herd sheep in the Idaho mountains; his father began herding when he was 13 years old. Dan learned traditional cooking, music, and dancing at home, and now teaches in the Basque studies program at Boise State University. He also plays the button accordion and the txistu, a recorder-like whistle, and is a member of the Basque rock band Amuuma Says No. A former restaurateur, he is one of the best Basque cooks around. People still remember his restaurant and this soup. Mr. Ansotegui’s family ate the soup, traditionally made from stale bread, after dancing at the local sheepherders’ balls. When he was planning the menu for his restaurant, he worried that people outside the Basque community, particularly tourists, might be turned off by a soup made from stale bread. His solution—using croutons instead—was dubbed “Basque Garlic Soup for Gringos” and became a local legend. The garlic level can be calibrated to taste.
FOR THE CROUTONS
6 ounces day-old French bread, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 3 cups)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon paprika
1 tablespoon garlic powder
Kosher salt
FOR THE SOUP
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon red pepper flakes
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
3 quarts homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
Kosher salt
½ cup grated Manchego or Petit Basque cheese (about 2 ounces), optional
1. To make the croutons: Place an oven rack in the center position and preheat the oven to 425°F. In a medium bowl, toss the bread with the oil, paprika, garlic powder, and 1 teaspoon salt until evenly coated. Transfer the bread to a baking sheet and bake for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring a couple times during baking, until golden brown. Cool to room temperature.
2. To make the soup: In a Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium-low heat. Add the garlic and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 to 4 minutes. When the garlic begins to brown, stir in the pepper flakes and cook for 1 minute, until aromatic. Add the parsley and stir until coated with the oil. Add the broth. Bring to a simmer and cook about 10 minutes. Season with salt to taste.
3. To serve, ladle into bowls and sprinkle with the croutons and cheese, if using.
SERVES 6 TO 8
JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI
Hal White, half of Hal & Mal’s Restaurant & Brewery, has been making soup “forever, or at least longer than I can remember.” He’s developed close to 200 recipes, and makes at least a gallon and a half of soup every morning. He has the pot on the stove by 9:00 or 9:30 a.m. and it simmers until the lunch crowd comes in. Some days he just knows the restaurant will sell “beaucoups” (pronounced boo-coos) soup. The vegetable soup is famous. Arguments have erupted between the customer who ordered the last bowl and the one who wishes he had. The soup is an ode to Mr. White’s forebears: “My granddaddy had a big garden,” he says. It is testimony to being wise with a nickel. The chablis he uses “is my favorite wine for this soup. Clean and acidic. I guess I could use sauvignon blanc, but you can’t beat chablis for cheap.” His vegetable soup also owes a debt to a bartending friend. “He made this great Bloody Mary mix. He taught me that nothing beats Coke for balancing the acidity of tomatoes.”
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
1 medium onion, finely chopped
4 medium tomatoes, cored and chopped
½ small head green cabbage, cored and chopped
2 large Yukon gold potatoes, scrubbed and cut into ½-inch pieces
5 ounces white mushrooms, thinly sliced
6 cups homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
3 cups vegetable juice, such as V8
1 cup dry white wine, such as chablis
½ cup Coca-Cola
1½ teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1½ teaspoons seasoned salt, preferably Lawry’s
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
½ teaspoon ground allspice
½ teaspoon sweet paprika
½ teaspoon dried basil
¼ teaspoon dried oregano
¼ teaspoon dried dill
2 bay leaves
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. In a large Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the celery and onion and cook for 6 to 8 minutes, until they are soft.
2. Stir in the remaining ingredients and bring to a simmer over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for 30 to 45 minutes, until the potatoes are cooked through.
3. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 6 TO 8
DURHAM, NORTH CAROLINA
Kavanah Ramsier was only three months old when her family left Africa so that her father could study at The College of William & Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. They lived in a townhouse with a view of the James River. On Sunday afternoons, they rode their bikes down to the riverbank and took the Jamestown–Scotland Ferry over to the town of Surrey. After pedaling around town all day, the family often went to the Surrey House, a restaurant and county inn known for its Tidewater-style peanut soup. The soup, far creamier than the African versions her mother and aunts made, was served with hot, salty ham biscuits. Ms. Ramsier, who directs a youth program dedicated to inner city gardening, says, “In my typical indecisive fashion, I was unable to settle on a favorite, so I combined elements of each: the creaminess of the Southern version with the tomato of the African version.”
4 tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter
1 large onion, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
8 cups homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
2 cups unsalted natural peanut butter
1 cup heavy cream or whole milk
⅓ cup tomato paste
½ teaspoon cayenne pepper
½ teaspoon ground coriander
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 scallions, green and white parts, thinly sliced, for garnish
2 tablespoons chopped roasted peanuts, for garnish
1. In a Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook about 4 minutes, until the onion is soft. Stir in the flour and cook for 2 minutes. Stir in the broth and bring to a simmer, then whisk in the peanut butter, cream, tomato paste, cayenne, coriander, 1 teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper.
2. Return to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, for 1 to 2 hours, until thickened. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
3. To serve, ladle into bowls and garnish with the scallions and peanuts.
SERVES 6
KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE
A good way to ensure the perpetuation of a tradition is to argue over its origins. This helps explain the century-long run of white bean soup on the menu of the Senate Dining Room—since at least 1903. Some claim that Idaho Senator Fred Dubois requested a bean soup, and out of respect for his home state, mashed potatoes were added to the bean, ham hock, and onion combination. Some claim that Senator Knute Nelson requested the soup. The recipes for both versions are on the United States Senate’s Web site.
John Coykendal is a master gardener at Blackberry Farm in Walland, Tennessee. He has been walking through the mountains of east Tennessee, collecting all-but-forgotten beans from hardscrabble farms, as well as the family stories that explain where each bean came from and what it is good for. He was not aware of the Senate’s soup squabble thirty years ago when he began experimenting with several dozen varieties of shucky beans. But he had dried a lot of beans, loving ham hock broth and wanting to add more layers of flavor. His top choice for soup is a dried butter bean. But crowder, lady, and zipper cream peas are nothing to be scoffed at, nor is a fine black bean, navy bean, or great Northern. Cooking times vary, but the fresher the beans, the less water and time they require. Any bean needs time to “gurgle and listen and get over itself,” says Mr. Coykendal, and this, he adds, explains the name of his soup.
FOR THE BROTH
1 tablespoon bacon fat or vegetable oil
1 onion, cut into large chunks
2 carrots, cut into large chunks
1 ham hock
1 bay leaf
2 whole cloves
2 sprigs fresh thyme
4 black peppercorns
FOR THE SOUP
2 quarts water
Sea salt
3 cups fresh shelled beans, preferably butter beans, crowder peas, lady peas, or zipper cream peas
4 slices bacon, cut into ½-inch pieces
2 yellow onions, cut into ½-inch dice
2 carrots, cut into ½-inch dice
2 celery stalks, cut into ½-inch dice
3 garlic cloves, minced
Freshly ground black pepper
¼ teaspoon mustard powder
¼ teaspoon ground coriander
4 plum tomatoes, peeled and seeded
1 cup heavy cream
Cider vinegar
½ bunch flat-leaf parsley
Coarsely ground black pepper
2 cups well-toasted croutons
1. To make the broth: Warm the bacon fat in a soup pot over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until the onion begins to caramelize, about 7 minutes. Add the carrots and cook until they begin to brown. Add the ham hock, bay leaf, cloves, thyme, peppercorns, and 2 quarts cold water and reduce the heat to low. Simmer, without boiling, for 3 hours. Strain the broth through a fine-mesh strainer, discard the solids, and refrigerate the broth overnight.
2. To make the soup: Bring 2 quarts water and 1 tablespoon sea salt to a rapid boil in a large pot. Add the beans and cook 5 minutes. Drain and cool the beans in a colander under cold running water.
3. Cook the bacon in a soup pot over medium heat about 10 minutes, until it becomes brown and crisp. Using a slotted spoon, transfer it to paper towels to drain. Discard half the bacon fat. Add the onions, carrots, celery, and garlic to the remaining bacon fat, season lightly with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring frequently, about 5 minutes. Add the beans, broth, and additional water if necessary to cover the beans. Stir in the mustard and coriander. Crush the tomatoes by hand and stir in. Simmer for 2 hours, adding more water as necessary to keep the beans covered.
4. When the beans are tender, cover the pot, remove from the heat, and allow to sit at least 2 hours at room temperature or up to 24 hours in the refrigerator. Warm before serving. Stir in the cream and more water if necessary. If too thick, add additional water. Add vinegar, salt, and pepper to taste. Add half the parsley. Serve with the remaining parsley, and croutons.
SERVES 8 TO 12
PROVINCETOWN, MASSACHUSETTS
Angelina Jacinta Soares Avellar was born in the Azores into a family of fishermen, who, like many Portuguese families in the mid to late nineteenth century, followed the fish to the tip of Cape Cod. The fishing was extraordinary, and when the sandy soil was enriched with fish bones, it was just fine for vegetables, particularly sturdy greens that could take a family through the winter. Her husband’s skills on the water were as respected as Mrs. Avellar’s were in the kitchen. They prospered and eventually bought Avellar’s Wharf, a big house, a hunk of land large enough to support pigs and a garden. They also rented summer cottages to writers such as Eugene O’Neill and Wilbur Daniel Steele. Mrs. Avellar says that her granddaughter Tillie Steele can’t make a pot of soup without sharing it, and given their fabulous garden, a day without a fresh pot of soup is rare.
This recipe appeared in the Provincetown Portuguese Cookbook, a local fund-raising publication, and is a classic meld of the Yankee and Portuguese kitchens. Some people add carrots or tomatoes to this soup, a practice that Mrs. Avellar frowns upon, says her granddaughter. And while some people add a ham bone for extra flavor, Ms. Steele has remained faithful to salt pork.
10 cups water
2 large bunches kale (ribs removed), coarsely chopped
2 ounces salt pork
1 ham bone (optional)
2 large onions, coarsely chopped
1 pound linguiça sausage, chopped
1 pound chouriço sausage, chopped
3 medium red potatoes, scrubbed and cut into ½-inch pieces
One 29-ounce can cannellini or red kidney beans, drained and rinsed
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. In a Dutch oven, combine the water, kale, salt pork, ham bone (if using), onions, linguiça, and chourico. Bring to a simmer and cook about 15 minutes, until the kale is tender.
2. Stir in the potatoes and beans and simmer about 20 minutes more, until the potatoes are tender. Discard the ham bone (if using). Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 8
AUSTIN, TEXAS
Georgia Downer Polk’s grandfather was a farmer during the Depression. Desperate not to lose his farm, he asked the local grocery owners what to plant that would be profitable. They suggested that if he grew black-eyed peas and dried them, the crop could be sold all winter long. Following their advice, he was able to use the money from this one crop to pay the taxes on his farm.
Around New Year’s, most grocery stores in the South carry fresh black-eyed peas because it is traditional to eat them for good luck. When Ms. Polk makes this soup at other times of the year, she uses frozen peas. The recipe came from Ms. Polk’s sister-in-law, Kerry Polk, a singer-songwriter living in Austin. Georgia Polk has also used collards in place of the mustard greens and a spicier sausage in place of the more traditional smoked sausage. She usually begins the soup on the morning of New Year’s Day, simmers it all day, and has it ready for the party that gathers to watch football games. She serves this soup with cornbread.
4 tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
½ cup finely chopped red bell pepper
12 medium garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
1 pound kielbasa or andouille sausage, cut into ¼-inch pieces
1 bay leaf
1 sprig fresh thyme
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
10 cups homemade chicken broth or low sodium store-bought, plus more as needed
1 pound fresh or frozen black-eyed peas
1 large bunch mustard greens (ribs removed), coarsely chopped
One 14.5-ounce can whole tomatoes, drained and chopped
2 scallions, green and white parts, coarsely chopped
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
Hot sauce
1. In a Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onion, celery, bell pepper, and garlic and cook for 4 to 6 minutes, until the vegetables are soft. Stir in the sausage, bay leaf, and thyme, and cook for 5 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper to taste, transfer to a medium bowl, and set aside.
2. Bring the broth and black-eyed peas to a simmer in the Dutch oven. Stir in the mustard greens, tomatoes, scallions, and parsley, return to a simmer, and cook for 30 minutes.
3. Stir in the reserved vegetable mixture and simmer about 1 hour more, until the soup is slightly thickened and the vegetables are soft, adding more broth as needed (the soup should be brothy). Discard the bay leaf and thyme sprig. Season with salt, pepper, and hot sauce to taste.
SERVES 6
OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA
Leila Abu-Saba’s father is a first-generation Lebanese Christian who came to the United States to study at Virginia Tech; her mother is a Southerner and the daughter of a Methodist minister. “My parents were progressive, cosmopolitan people,” says Ms. Abu-Saba, who studies environmental issues and policy. “I inherited a little of their talent for trading worldviews and recipes.” She first tasted this soup in the home of an Egyptian Muslim during Ramadan, the month-long Islamic observance dedicated to purification through prayer and self-sacrifice; observant celebrants also fast from sunrise to sunset. The evening meal often includes humble but satisfying soups like this one.
2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
7 cups homemade vegetable or chicken broth or low sodium store-bought vegetable or chicken broth, plus more as needed
1¾ cups red lentils
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
⅓ cup chopped fresh cilantro
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, for garnish
Toasted pita bread wedges, for serving
Lemon wedges, for serving
1. In a Dutch oven, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook about 4 minutes, until soft. Stir in the broth and lentils, bring to a simmer, and cook about 30 minutes, until the lentils dissolve, adding more broth as needed.
2. Meanwhile, in a small skillet, heat the remaining 1 teaspoon olive oil over medium heat. Add the cumin seeds and turmeric and cook about 1 minute, until aromatic.
3. Before serving, stir the spices, cilantro, and lemon juice into the soup. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Ladle into bowls, drizzle with extra virgin olive oil, and serve with the pita and lemon wedges.
SERVES 6 TO 8
HERNANDO, FLORIDA
In the world according to the late Ted Williams, there was no reason to bother hitting a ball, casting a fishing line, or cooking a meal if you didn’t do it right. Life is full of things you can’t control, he said in an interview in his home kitchen in 1999. The winners pay attention to the sliver of effort they can control: their timing at the plate, the arc of their bats, and the heat of their skillets. For the high-strung perpetual perfectionist, cooking became a singular solace. “The only thing I remember as a young player coming close to comfort was a good meal.”
Growing up in San Diego, California, with a mother who marched with the Salvation Army, a brother who rebelled, and a father who eventually marched away from the family, Williams ate eggs. “My mother wasn’t much of cook. I’d make eggs for myself—it was the Depression and eggs were cheap and plentiful, you see.”
Although he cooked for thousands of players and friends over half a century, Williams was never able to give his guests a sense of complete trust along with a great meal. He said that it started back in spring training in 1927, when he cooked for Wade Hoyt.
“Now, this guy’s been around longer and been to better places to eat than you and I, but I know that the little public market over in Winter Haven has the best steak, I mean beautiful, the best you can get. So I go over there and get some beauties. And I come home and I make a little fire in the grill and I rub those babies good with salt and pepper and garlic and I make a beautiful salad. And I keep him waiting. I brown those steaks up good; gee, I did a great job. They were terrific steaks. I see he’s getting hungry.
“I take ’em off the heat, let ’em sit, and he’s getting real eager. Finally, I serve the meat and by that time, I’m telling you, he’s hungry; he darned near demolished the thing. And I say to him, ‘You like alligator?’ and he gets sorta pale.”
The next day in the clubhouse, Williams heard Hoyt describing the flavor of alligator. “Tasted pretty good, but I wouldn’t want to make a steady diet of it.”
Williams continued to appall dinner guests. He couldn’t help it. He got a kick out of big, tough athletes, politicians, and movie stars paling at his table. But Williams also understood the conservative tastes of most ballplayers. He ate a lot of Mexican food growing up. He was partial to fiery peppers, hot and sour chili sauces, and garlic in quantities that would make Dracula wince. Even so, he admitted, “as a young man, I thought you couldn’t beat a good steak or chop.”
“I regret that I haven’t eaten platypus or sturgeon,” he said. “Shark’s pretty good, and I love octopus and any kind of sushi. But I coulda been more adventuresome.” He added, “I don’t cook a variety of foods. But what I cook is excellent.”
He is partial to fish, a taste born in the years he played for the Boston Red Sox. For fifty years he fished around the globe. Every fish, he said, like every pitch, is different. Recipes can’t replace the feel for a thing, the instinct to meet either ingredient or ball with the certainty of a home run. “Except for my chowder, a thing that a recipe can come close to approximating, a thing of beauty.” As the aroma of the fish and seafood simmering gently on his stove reached him, he smiled. “Chowder,” he said, “is my number one lingering desire.”
3 tablespoons rendered pork fat or olive oil
½ cup finely chopped red onion
1 large shallot, finely chopped
¼ cup finely chopped red bell pepper
¼ cup finely chopped green bell pepper
2 teaspoons Lawry’s Seasoned Salt
2 teaspoons Old Bay Seasoning
2 teaspoons dried thyme
1½ teaspoons dried garlic flakes
One 4-ounce skinless grouper fillet, cut into ½-inch cubes
One 4-ounce skinless red snapper fillet, cut into ½-inch cubes
¼ pound bay scallops
½ cup chopped shucked clams
4 cups whole milk
2 cups half-and-half
¼ cup dry sherry
¼ cup clam juice
¾ pound mussels, scrubbed and beards removed
½ cup chopped shucked oysters with their juice
2 small white potatoes, peeled and cut into ¼-inch pieces
½ cup fresh or thawed frozen corn kernels
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
½ cup heavy cream
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. In a large Dutch oven, heat the fat over medium heat. Add the onion, shallot, and bell peppers and cook about 4 minutes, until soft. Stir in the seasoned salt, Old Bay, thyme, and garlic flakes and cook about 1 minute, until aromatic. Add the grouper, snapper, scallops, and clams, and cook for 3 minutes.
2. Stir in the milk, half-and-half, sherry, and clam juice, and bring to a simmer.
3. Stir in the mussels, oysters, potatoes, and corn, and simmer very gently for 5 to 8 minutes, until the mussels open and the potatoes are tender. (If desired, remove the mussels, discard the shells, and return the meat to the chowder.)
4. Stir in the lemon juice and cream. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 10
MISSOULA, MONTANA
Vispal Khunn’s grandmother used dumplings to make this soup, but his cousins, who live in California, began using local crabmeat and Mr. Khunn, a cabinet maker who grows Asian herbs for the local market, believes that the change is “proof that the old way is not every time the best way.”
FOR THE DUMPLINGS
¼ pound medium shrimp (20 to 25 per pound), peeled and deveined
5 large eggs, lightly beaten
½ pound lump crabmeat, picked over
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
FOR THE SOUP
¼ cup vegetable oil
4 shallots, halved and thinly sliced
4 garlic cloves, minced
4 scallions, green and white parts, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon Asian chili paste
4 plum tomatoes, cored and quartered
5½ cups homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
¼ cup fish sauce
1 teaspoon sugar
Freshly ground black pepper
FOR SERVING
8 ounces thin rice vermicelli, cooked according to package directions
4 large Bibb lettuce leaves, shredded
2 cups bean sprouts
½ cup chopped fresh mint
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro
Lemon wedges
4 Thai chiles, stemmed and thinly sliced
1. To make the dumplings: In a food processor, process the shrimp about 1 minute, until a fine paste forms. Transfer it to a medium bowl and stir in the eggs, crabmeat, and pepper until combined. Cover and refrigerate.
2. To make the soup: In a Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the shallots, garlic, and scallions, and cook, stirring constantly, about 2 minutes. Stir in the tomato paste and chili paste, then add the tomatoes and cook for 1 minute more. Add the broth, fish sauce, and sugar, and bring to a simmer.
3. Spoon the shrimp mixture into the broth, cover, and cook about 5 minutes, until the seafood is slightly firm and floats. Season with pepper to taste.
4. To serve: Divide the noodles among four soup bowls and top each with some lettuce, bean sprouts, and additional scallions. Ladle the soup and dumplings over the top and garnish with the mint and cilantro. Serve with the lemon wedges and chiles.
SERVES 4
LONG ISLAND, MAINE
In 1982, when Alix Kates Shulman was 50, she began spending her summers on Long Island, off the coast of Maine. Accessible only by the Casco Bay ferry or private boat, the island is isolated and remote. Her closest neighbor is a twenty-minute walk away. Her goal was solitude, with time to think, write, and explore, and the experience became the subject of her book, Drinking the Rain.
A friend built her a cabin of pine boards in the board-and-batten style. It has no electricity or plumbing. “The technology in the kitchen is circa 1910,” she explains. “There is a hand pump in the kitchen connected to the rainwater cistern, and a hand-powered grater, juicer, mixer, strainer, and chopper, along with a propane stove and small propane refrigerator.”
She forages for wild edibles for her food, and the low dunes become her salad bar, where she gathers lamb’s quarters, strawberry goosefoot, sea rocket, dock, and chicory. On the rocks she finds a seaweed garden replete with sea lettuce, kelp, laver, and Irish moss. The waters provide mussels, crabs, lobster, and periwinkles, while the fields offer apple trees and edible fungi.
Many of the plants that she finds were cultivated and eaten in the nineteenth century. The seeds of curly dock come from the flower stalk that grows in the fall. “They are one of the most nutritious plant foods in the world,” she says. “I always put a couple of tablespoons in my cornbread or muffins. They don’t provide a lot of flavor, but give the baked goods a nice crunch.” The seeds of sea rocket have a flavor reminiscent of horseradish and have no substitute. Beach peas are “like ordinary garden peas, but teeny little pods . . . they dry as the season progresses.” She cautions that cooks should not gather greens from roadsides, where the plants could be laced with chemicals.
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon sea rocket seeds, chopped (optional)
1½ pounds assorted greens (lamb’s quarters, dandelions, curly dock), coarsely chopped
8 cups mussel or fish broth
24 littleneck clams, steamed, meats picked, broth reserved
1 cup beach peas or small English peas
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup lightly packed whole mustard flowers
¼ cup chopped arame seaweed
1. In a Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook about 4 minutes, until soft. Stir in the garlic and sea rocket seeds (if using), and cook about 1 minute, until aromatic. Stir in the greens, one handful at a time, and cook about 3 minutes, until slightly wilted.
2. Add the mussel broth and the reserved clam broth. Bring to a simmer, and cook about 5 minutes, until the flavors have blended. Stir in the beach peas and cook for 3 to 5 minutes, until they float to the surface. Stir in the reserved clams. Season with salt and pepper to taste, garnish with mustard flowers and arame, and serve.
SERVES 4 TO 6
NEWTON, MASSACHUSETTS
Whether cooking or playing drums in a jazz ensemble, Luke Pyenson likes to improvise. An 18-year-old freshman at Tufts University, he starts with a particular ingredient, then riffs on it by adding spices. This soup began after school one day when he sautéed asparagus with onions. He decided to turn it into soup, and asked his mom what to add. She suggested chicken stock. The cardamom and nigella seeds give the soup its exotic zip.
Mr. Pyenson came of age watching cooking shows on PBS and the Food Network, and credits television and his parents for his passion for cooking. Iron Chef taught him about ingenuity under pressure, “putting stuff together and hoping it tastes good.”
He explores the ethnic restaurants and markets in the Boston area. This soup’s flavoring comes from his meals at Indian restaurants, his current obsession. He had just bought the nigella seeds, and their flavor reminded him of peppermint. “I know asparagus and mint are good together, so I made the connection,” he said.
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 pounds asparagus, ends snapped off, stalks cut into 1-inch pieces
1 small onion, halved and thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1½ teaspoons ground cardamom
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 cups homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
Nigella seeds, for garnish
Truffle oil, for garnish (optional)
1. In a large Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the asparagus and onion and cook for 4 to 6 minutes, until soft. Stir in the garlic, cardamom, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper and cook about 1 minute, until aromatic. Add the broth, bring to a simmer, and cook about 10 minutes.
2. Working in two batches, process the soup in a blender or food processor until almost smooth. Return the soup to a clean saucepan and season with salt and pepper to taste. Warm over low heat until hot.
3. To serve, ladle into bowls, sprinkle with the nigella seeds, and drizzle with the truffle oil (if using).
SERVES 6 TO 8
VAIL, COLORADO
“My father was born near Hanoi, but his parents moved to Brittany when he was very young, and his first memory was pea soup with mint,” said Véronique Nguyen. “One of his cousins had married a Frenchwoman and she made that soup. He assumed that pea soup was a French birthright and my father determined to marry a Frenchwoman as well—et voilà, my mother. Although she recalls their courtship differently, she does make a wonderful pea soup, and I have many memories of picking peas in our garden. My sister and I put the peas in a colander and washed them with the garden hose and my mother used the shells to make broth. When I visited Vietnam, I fell in love with the mint and basil combination and use them both in this soup. I use more vegetable broth and less cream, and I got the idea of frothing it from a chef’s blog. My mother loves my version. My father prefers my mother’s soup.”
FOR THE VEGETABLE BROTH
1 pound celery, chopped
2 leeks, white and light green parts only, rinsed well, coarsely chopped
4 cups English pea pods, or snow peas (if you are using frozen peas for the soup)
1 cup coarsely chopped baby fennel
1 baby carrot
3 white peppercorns
8 sprigs flat-leaf parsley
4 sprigs fresh chervil
11-inch section lemongrass, finely chopped (optional)
3 tablespoons olive oil
FOR THE SOUP
3 cups fresh or thawed frozen peas
½ cup heavy cream
Sea salt
Fresh minced mint, sliced thinly for garnish (optional)
Fresh Thai basil, sliced thinly
1 teaspoon lemon zest, for garnish (optional)
1. To make the vegetable broth: Place all the vegetables in a pot, cover with the olive oil, and allow to sit for about an hour. Cover with 1 gallon cold water, place over low heat, bring to a bare simmer, and cook for 90 minutes.
3. Strain through a fine-mesh strainer into a storage container. Cool the broth to room temperature, then refrigerate. When it is completely chilled, spoon out the olive oil, then cover the broth and refrigerate for 4 hours or up to 3 days.
4. To make the soup: Measure 2 cups of the vegetable broth. Working in small batches, combine the peas and broth in a blender to make a very smooth puree. Strain through a fine-mesh strainer into a saucepan, pressing on the solids to extract as much liquid as possible. Stir in half of the cream. Warm the soup slowly over medium-high heat, whisking until it reaches 130°F on an instant-read thermometer. Do not boil the soup. Cook for 3 to 5 minutes more, stirring frequently and adjusting the heat as necessary to maintain a constant temperature of 130°F. Transfer to a clean storage container and chill overnight.
5. Before serving, stir in the remaining cream and adjust the seasoning with sea salt. Use an immersion blender to froth the soup. Pour into bowls, and serve; sprinkle with mint, basil, and lemon zest, if desired.
SERVES 4 TO 6
OJAI, CALIFORNIA
Growing up in a 1908 Dutch colonial farmhouse on forty acres of avocado and pixie tangerine orchards in Ojai, California, Joan Churchill thought that everybody had bumper crops of avocados. Now a documentary filmmaker, she and her husband, an orchardist, divide their time between Venice, California, and the house and orchards she inherited in Ojai. She got this recipe from her friend Suellen Miller, and though she has embellished it, she prizes it for the four avocados the recipe requires, as well as its flavor. The lemon juice helps keep the avocado from browning and adds a zesty, summery flavor. A smoky note from the chipotle chile works well, “but if you let the soup sit for a while, it’ll get hotter and hotter, so be careful,” she warns.
4 ripe Hass avocados, halved, pitted (reserve the pits), and peeled
3 cups buttermilk
1 cup dry white wine
½ cup homemade chicken or vegetable broth or low sodium store-bought chicken or vegetable broth, plus more as needed
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
2 scallions, green and white parts, chopped
1 medium chipotle chile in adobo sauce, minced (preferably La Costeña brand)
½ teaspoon chili powder, plus more for garnish
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 lemon, thinly sliced, for garnish
Cilantro leaves, for garnish
1. In a large bowl, with a potato masher, mash the avocados until only small chunks remain. Stir in the buttermilk and wine until incorporated.
2. In a blender or food processor, process the broth, lemon juice, cilantro, scallions, chipotle, and chili powder until smooth. Stir into the avocado mixture until combined. If too thick, add a little broth as needed. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover and refrigerate about 2 hours, until chilled.
3. Ladle into bowls and garnish with the lemon slices, cilantro leaves, and a sprinkle of chili powder.
SERVES 8
OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA
Linda Hillel’s parents are Baghdadi Jews, and fava beans were no stranger at the family’s table. Growing up in Tokyo, she ate them as deep-fried, salty snacks. But it wasn’t until she and her husband tasted a soup called maccu when vacationing in Sicily that she understood the glory of fava beans, which is why she tends a sizable patch of them in her garden. Canned or dried beans can be used to make this robust peasant soup, but Mrs. Hillel, a former cooking teacher, believes that nothing compares to the fresh beans. “I wait until the moment when there are enough beans of similar size, rush out and pick them, then rush back and make my fresh fava version of maccu,” she says.
5 pounds fresh fava beans, shelled
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
1 medium onion, chopped
Kosher salt and fresh ground black pepper
3 garlic cloves, minced
¼ cup chopped fresh mint leaves, plus more small leaves for garnish
3 tablespoons crème fraîche or Greek-style yogurt, for garnish
1. In a medium saucepan with a steamer insert, bring 4 cups water to a boil. Put the beans in the insert, cover, and steam for 6 to 8 minutes, until tender. Remove the insert from the pot and rinse the beans under cold running water to stop the cooking. Drain, transfer the beans to a medium bowl, cover, and refrigerate for 1 hour. Pour the cooking liquid in a separate container and refrigerate until cold.
2. Peel the chilled fava beans by pinching the skins and squeezing to pop out the beans. Transfer to a blender or food processor.
3. In a small bowl, combine the oil and lemon zest. Heat 1 tablespoon of the lemon oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper and cook about 4 minutes, until soft. Stir in the garlic and cook about 1 minute, until aromatic.
4. Scrape the onions and garlic into the blender with the beans. Add 1 cup of the reserved cooking liquid and the chopped mint. Pulse until the beans are finely chopped. Scrape down the bowl. With the blender running, add more of the reserved fava liquid until the soup reaches the desired consistency. The soup should be thick; depending on the maturity of the fava beans, you will need 2 to 3 cups of the reserved liquid.
5. Transfer the soup to a storage container. Stir in the remaining lemon oil and season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover and refrigerate about 2 hours, until chilled.
6. Whisk the crème fraîche until smooth. To serve, ladle the soup into bowls, drizzle with the crème fraîche, and garnish with mint leaves.
SERVES 4 TO 6
JOHN T. DORRANCE, A NEPHEW OF THE COFOUNDER OF THE JOSEPH A. CAMPBELL Preserve Company, went to work for his uncle’s company in 1897. He had earned a doctorate in chemistry at the University of Göttingen in Germany and soon invented a process that condensed half the water from soup, making cans of it cheaper to ship. Within five years, the company was selling 15 million cans of soup a year.
No variety has sold more than Dr. Dorrance’s first invention, Campbell’s Tomato Soup. Along with the company’s cream of mushroom, the soup eventually became the goo in an overwhelming number of casseroles. In a series of paintings and silk screens, Andy Warhol (who said that he drank Campbell’s tomato soup every day for lunch) turned the can with its familiar red and white label into a pop icon. But the soup had loftier beginnings. Fannie Farmer said that Dr. Dorrance made soup with “English thoroughness and French art,” and in fact, the good doctor honed his soup-making abilities with the masters.
“Three months out of every year I became anything from a vegetable parer to assistant cook in some of the most famous kitchens in the world. The Café de Paris in Paris and Paillard’s were my training fields, the Waldorf in New York City another. From these famous chefs I learned all that I know of the delicate flavoring of soups, and the fact that they made me an honorary member of the Société de Secours Mutuels et de Retraite [sic] des Cuisiniers de Paris is one of my proudest achievements.” Dorrance succeeded his father as president of the company in 1910, became the sole owner, renamed the company Campbell Soup, and left an estate of $128 million when he died in 1930. One of Mr. Warhol’s soup can images sold for $11.8 million in 2006.
BATAVIA, OHIO
Rita Nader Heikenfeld received her first request for a clone of a famous recipe about ten years ago, when she started her column, “Rita’s Kitchen,” in a community newspaper in Ohio. A reader wanted to make Skyline Chili, made famous by a Cincinnati restaurant, and between readers’ suggestions and her own experimenting, Mrs. Heikenfeld mastered the art of duplicating restaurant dishes and convenience products, such as canned soup, in her home kitchen.
It is an unlikely specialty for Mrs. Heikenfeld, the daughter of a large Lebanese family of serious cooks, who for the past thirty-six years has chopped wood, raised chickens, and grown vegetables along with her husband and three sons. Nevertheless, Mrs. Heikenfeld has obliged her readers with home-kitchen recipes for everything from Famous Amos Chocolate Chip Cookies and York Peppermint Patties to Emeril’s Cajun spice blend.
Although she does not eat packaged or convenience foods, she understands the American connection to canned tomato soup. “Canned tomato soup hasn’t changed over the years,” she says. “A granddaughter can imagine her mother and grandmother opening a can and eating the same bowl of soup. It’s a comfortable part of our history, knowing that so many generations used the same soup.”
4 tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter
6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon onion powder
1 quart vegetable juice such as V8
1 teaspoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon celery salt, plus more to taste
1 teaspoon sugar, plus more to taste (optional)
Freshly ground black pepper
1. In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Stir in the flour and onion powder and cook about 1 minute, until bubbly but not brown.
2. Whisk in vegetable juice, tomato paste, and celery salt. Bring to a simmer and cook 5 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened.
3. Season with celery salt, sugar (if using), and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 4
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
People love Isabel Caudillo’s roasted meats, soups, and tacos. On Saturday and Sunday at the Noe Valley Market, the lines at her food stand are long and deep. On other days, she caters weddings and office parties. She has not worked fewer than seventy hours a week since she arrived in San Francisco ten years ago. Why would she? Her five sons have “lots of stuff”; she has her own business, business cards, even a Web site. Someday she will have her own restaurant, but for now she is living the American dream.
“My husband, Juan Carlos, came to San Francisco to paint houses and make money for us. He sent little presents home to our five sons—music, tennis shoes, jeans, things that the kids really liked and could not get in Mexico City. Juan Carlos wanted to make money and come home, but I thought, why are we here and he is sending this stuff? Why not be there where the kids can have stuff all the time? Juan Carlos did not like that idea. He wanted to come back to Mexico City, but Mexico is not a good place right now. There are robberies and no opportunities for our kids, and we all came to San Francisco. I made a little restaurant in my house, a secret one, not official. I loved it, and people came to eat. After two years, I wanted to be legal in cooking. And so I went to La Cocina, where they let you work in a licensed kitchen and help people get permits. My business is called El Buen Comer, which means ‘Eating Well.’ I am very happy. I like using California olive oil, but the chicharrón are better in Mexico. I miss the herbs that my friend grows and powders to make mole verde. Fideo is the most common soup in my country. You can make it without chicken broth, just use water if you have no money. It depends on your family, how you like to serve fideo. I make it with spinach and serve it with lime. Some Mexican people add cheese, avocado, or shredded chicken. I know one man who must have banana in his fideo.”
FOR THE BROTH
4 pounds chicken legs, thighs, and wings
1 bay leaf
1 onion, cut in half
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
Dash of chili sauce (optional)
FOR THE FIDEO
½ pound roma tomatoes, cored
2 garlic cloves
½ cup chopped onion
4 to 8 cups chicken broth or water, plus more if necessary
½ teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
¼ to ½ cup olive oil
One 10-ounce package fideo (vermicelli)
1 small garlic clove, minced
2 cups spinach or chard, washed, dried, and cut into thin julienne
Mexican limes, chopped avocado, shredded chicken, cilantro, chili sauce (optional) for garnish
1. To make the broth: Put all the ingredients in a large pot. Cover with cold water and cook slowly for 2 hours. Reserve the broth and the chicken, discard the onion. When the chicken is cool enough to handle, discard the skin, shred the meat, and set it aside to add as a garnish or use for another dish.
2. To make the fideo: Place the tomatoes, garlic, and onion in a blender and cover with cold broth or water. Blend on high speed until totally liquid. Strain the mixture through a fine-mesh strainer placed over a pot. With a wooden spoon or rubber scraper, press the vegetables against the strainer to remove as much liquid as possible. Discard the solids and set the juice aside.
3. Place the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. When it is hot, add the noodles and stir constantly until they are golden. Be careful not to burn them. If they turn too brown, they will make an acrid soup. When the noodles are done, add the strained tomato juice and enough broth just to cover the noodles, and simmer until they are tender but not too soft.
4. While the noodles are cooking, warm the remaining olive oil in a pan with the minced garlic clove. When the garlic is golden, add the julienned greens, toss them quickly to wilt, remove from heat, and set aside. Add the greens to the noodles, stir, season with salt, black pepper, and chili sauce. Serve immediately with the garnishes of your choice.
MAKES 8 SERVINGS
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
In 2001, Kate McDermott met Jon Rowley, the man who would become her mulch-mate (and husband) on GardenWeb.com’s soil, compost, and mulch forum. So it made sense when the couple announced that for their nuptials they would create an altar at a compost station at the Interbay P-Patch Community Garden. It even made sense when they said they would make a wedding compost. “We’d both been married before, so we were recycling ourselves,” says Ms. McDermott, a pianist and gardener. “We were taking all the life experience that most people discard and turning it into something bountiful and full of life.”
Many guests had difficulty divining exactly what constituted wedding-worthy garbage. Bill Rice, a food writer for the Chicago Tribune, made a luminous mosaic from his leftovers, with recipe attached (“one skin of Wisconsin natural smoked trout, cut up . . .”). Julia Child sent a single perfect banana peel, gift wrapped.
The wedding menu included this rib-sticking soup that they typically serve for lunch after Saturday morning work sessions in the garden.
½ pound dried great Northern white beans, soaked in cold water overnight or in boiling water for 3 hours, then drained
3 tablespoons olive oil
5 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary
2 medium beefsteak tomatoes, cored and halved
Kosher salt
1 cup butternut squash, peeled and coarsely chopped
2 plum tomatoes, peeled and coarsely chopped
2 carrots, peeled and coarsely chopped
2 quarts homemade chicken or vegetable broth or low-sodium store-bought broth
1 bunch black kale (ribs removed), coarsely chopped
8 ounces tubetti or ditali pasta
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1. In a Dutch oven, cover the beans with water by 2 inches. Bring to a simmer and cook for 1 to 1½ hours, until tender. Drain the beans and return to the pot.
2. In a small saucepan, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and rosemary and cook until aromatic, about 1 minute. Stir in the halved tomatoes and ½ teaspoon salt, bring to a simmer, and cook about 20 minutes, until soft.
3. Process the cooked tomatoes in a blender or food processor until smooth. Strain the puree through a fine-mesh strainer into the soup pot.
4. Place an oven rack in the center position and preheat to oven to 400°F.
5. In a large baking dish, toss the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil with the squash, plum tomatoes, and carrots. Roast about 20 minutes, until the edges are golden brown. Add to the beans.
6. Bring the broth to a simmer and add the kale one handful at a time. Stir in the pasta and cook for 6 to 10 minutes, until the pasta and kale are tender. Drain and reserve the broth. Add the pasta and kale to the beans and stir. Add as much broth as needed to get desired consistency. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
7. To serve, ladle into bowls, drizzle with extra virgin olive oil, and sprinkle with the parsley.
SERVES 6 TO 8
Thornton Dial, 2005.
EMERYVILLE, CALIFORNIA
The daughter of an Italian father and Colombian mother, Valeria Ponte grew up in Venezuela and came to the United States on her own as a young woman. She is an artist, gardener, and mother of two, and her heritage gives her an enviable culinary repertoire. From her Italian nonna, she has an unusual recipe for white minestrone, a hearty soup of vegetables, beans, and pasta that omits the usual tomatoes. Its thick, creamy texture comes from pureeing a quarter of the soup and mixing it back in. A big pot of the minestrone was always in the family’s fridge when Ms. Ponte was growing up. “My mom did whatever she could to make sure we ate our vegetables. This soup usually did the trick.”
4 medium russet potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch chunks
3 small zucchini, coarsely chopped
3 carrots, coarsely chopped
2 large leeks, white parts only, coarsely chopped
2 celery stalks, strings removed, coarsely chopped
1 head green cabbage, quartered, cored, and coarsely chopped
1 small butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into ½-inch chunks
1 medium head cauliflower, cored and cut into 1-inch florets
1 bunch broccoli, stems removed, cut into 1-inch florets
8 ounces dried red kidney, pinto, or cannellini beans, soaked in cold water overnight or in boiling water for 3 hours, then drained
8 ounces small pasta, such as ditali or small shells
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 bay leaf
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese (about 4 ounces)
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
1. In a large stock pot, combine the potatoes, zucchini, carrots, leeks, celery, cabbage, squash, cauliflower, broccoli, beans, pasta, oil, nutmeg, bay leaf, 1 tablespoon salt, and ½ teaspoon pepper. Cover with water by 1 inch. Bring to a simmer, partially cover, and cook about 1 hour, until the beans and vegetables are tender.
2. Remove and discard the bay leaf. Working in batches, process about one-quarter of the soup in a blender or food processor until completely smooth. Stir the puree into the soup and reheat if necessary. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
3. To serve, ladle into bowls and sprinkle with the cheese and parsley.
SERVES 12
HOPE, ALASKA
As a kid in Fairbanks, Fayrene Sherritt wore one scarf over her head to protect her sinuses and another over her mouth and nose to prevent “frostbite of the lungs.” “It was 60 to 70 degrees below zero,” she says “and all our groceries were shipped, barged, or trucked in. The day after we married forty-four years ago, my husband and I moved from Fairbanks, where we grew up, to Anchorage. I wanted out of Alaska, it was too cold. In Anchorage, the temp got down to only minus 15 degrees; the rest of the time, it was above zero, it was like the tropics.
“Things have changed in Alaska. Now with global warming it gets to 40 to 55 below, and Anchorage has everything that is available in New York except Red Lobster and Olive Garden. Get out of Anchorage and you’re back to Alaska. We live on the peninsula where gold was discovered in 1888. The town of Hope started in 1894; there’s only 130 to 150 people who live here year-round. I first made this soup as barter for Tito’s Discovery Café here in Hope. I got the recipe from my daughter-in-law. It called for fresh milk, but we are eighty-eight miles away from the nearest grocery, so I tried it with canned. It’s much better, creamier. We have a lot of wild mushrooms. You never know what you are going to get.
“People always ask for the recipe. I am on the library board. So I typed it up and made it available for five dollars, which goes to the library. I also write ‘Hope Happenings’ for the local paper, The Turnagain Times, and I volunteer. I’m busy. It’s been a wonderful life.”
6 tablespoons (¾ stick) unsalted butter
1 pound white mushrooms, coarsely chopped
2 medium onions, finely chopped
6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 cups water
2 cups homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
2 cups whole milk or 1 cup evaporated milk plus 1 cup water
1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill or ¾ teaspoon dried
1 tablespoon tamari sauce
2 teaspoons paprika, preferably smoked bittersweet
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup sour cream
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1. In a Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and onions and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, until the vegetables are soft. Sprinkle in the flour and cook, stirring, about 1 minute, until incorporated.
2. Slowly whisk in the water, broth, milk, dill, tamari, paprika, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Bring to a simmer and cook for 15 to 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until thickened.
3. In a small bowl, mix the sour cream with ¼ cup of the soup, then stir the mixture into the soup, along with the parsley and lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 6
RHEEMS, PENNSYLVANIA
Martin Cope dried his first batch of corn kernels in 1900 in Rheems, Pennsylvania, using a traditional Pennsylvania Dutch technique. Corn is harvested when its sugars are at their highest. The corn goes into the air-drier right after picking, before the sugars turn to starch. The drying removes moisture and caramelizes the natural sugars in the corn, creating a toasty, nutty, sweet flavor that many people find addictive. Not even fresh corn can deliver the same intensity of flavor or creamy texture. Plus, it’s available all year long. The corn is sold in specialty food markets and on the Internet. Martin Cope’s grandson, John, uses this family recipe for his own harvest feast.
12 corn cobs, kernels removed and reserved
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 onion, chopped
1 garlic clove, peeled and chopped
12 sprigs fresh thyme
½ teaspoon kosher salt
4 black peppercorns
2 quarts water
FOR THE SOUP
6 slices bacon, coarsely chopped
2 medium onions, finely chopped
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups cooked dried corn
2 cups reserved corn kernels (use the rest for another dish)
2 medium Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch pieces
2 cups corn broth
2 cups whole milk
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
1. To make the broth: Preheat the oven to 350°F. Slather the corncobs with the butter and roast on a baking sheet for 30 minutes, turning occasionally.
2. Remove from oven and place the cobs in a large soup pot with the onion, garlic, thyme, salt and peppercorns. Add the water, cover, and simmer for 1½ hours.
3. Strain though a fine-mesh strainer into a storage container. Discard the solids and place the broth in the refrigerator. Skim the fat before using.
4. To make the soup: Cook the bacon in a large saucepan over medium-low heat about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until crisp. Using a slotted spoon, transfer it to paper towels to drain. Remove half of the bacon fat and set aside for another use. Add the onion to the remaining fat in the pot and cook over medium heat, stirring often, until soft, about 4 minutes. Stir in the flour to make a smooth paste.
5. Add the cooked and fresh corn, potatoes, broth, and milk. Bring to a simmer and cook for 15 to 20 minutes, until the potatoes are tender. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and stir in the parsley. Serve in warm bowls, sprinkled with the bacon.
SERVES 4 TO 6
CHAUVIN, LOUISIANA
In southern Louisiana, decades are remembered by their hurricanes—1950s: Audrey; 1960s: Betsy and Camille; 1970s: Edith, Carmen, and Bob; 1980s: Juan, Bonnie, and Gilbert; 1990s: Andrew, Frances, and Georges; 2000s: Katrina, Rita, and Gustav. Each storm surge rips communities apart and scars the landscape forever. But the Cecil Lapeyrouse Grocery Store, built in 1914 on Bayou Petit Caillou within a few miles of the Gulf of Mexico, is still standing. Cecil Lapeyrouse’s grandfather Gustave, who was in the oyster business, opened it to serve the people in the area. Gustave’s son Chester ran it, and now Chester’s son Cecil is the proprietor. The shelves are stocked with groceries, tackle, tools, and galvanized aluminum boats. Fishermen purchase bait, ice, and fuel.
Louisiana men pride themselves on their cooking, but Mr. Lapeyrouse is nonchalant about his abilities. “I like to cook, yeah. Gumbos, jambalayas, pasta.” A specialty of all southern Louisiana cooks is corn maque choux, a corn and tomato dish that is sometimes enhanced with fresh Gulf shrimp. Many believe corn maque choux may have evolved from Spain’s caldo, a corn and cabbage dish. Others maintain that “maque” meant “corn” in the native Natchez language. “Choux” are cabbages in French. Regardless of origin, corn maque choux is a tasty side dish, casserole, or soup. The only difference among the three options is the amount of liquid added. Mixed with cornbread it makes a delicious dressing, too.
1 pound salt pork, diced
8 tender, well-developed ears fresh corn
½ cup vegetable oil
1 cup diced onions
3 cups Gulf shrimp (optional, 70 to 90 per pound), peeled and deveined
One 14.5-ounce can chopped tomatoes, drained
One 8-ounce can tomato sauce
1 quart homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 nest dried vermicelli or heavy handful fine noodles
1. Bring a large saucepan of water to a boil. Add the pork and cook for 5 minutes to remove the salt. Drain and pat dry.
2. Shuck the corn. Cut lengthwise down the cob with a sharp knife to remove the kernels. Scrape each cob with the back of the knife to remove all the “milk” (juice) and pulp remaining on the cob. The richness of this dish will depend on how much milk and pulp can be scraped from the cobs.
3. In a large heavy-bottomed pot, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the onions and salt pork and cook for 5 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions are wilted. Add the corn, corn milk, and pulp and cook for 3 minutes, stirring often. Add 1 cup of the shrimp, if using. Stir in the tomatoes and tomato sauce. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes, until the mixture has thickened.
4. Add the broth and bring to a rolling boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook 30 minutes. Season to taste using salt and pepper.
5. Add the remaining shrimp, if using, and the vermicelli and cook for 12 minutes more or until noodles are cooked.
SERVES 6 TO 8
RIDGEFIELD, WASHINGTON
After retiring from teaching in Southern California, Carolyn and Ray Young moved to the northern end of the Willamette Valley in Washington State. Today they have a chestnut orchard called Allen Creek Farm and do all the work, including weeding, fertilizing, harvesting, processing, and marketing. Ms. Young runs the sweeper, while Mr. Young runs the harvester.
They grow Colossals, a Japanese-European hybrid, without insecticides, fungicides, or fumigation. The chestnuts turn brown in late September and are harvested through October. It takes three people to run the processing line, and friends help out or they hire an extra hand. During National Chestnut Week in mid-October, up to 500 people attend an open house at the orchard, some traveling from as far away as the East Coast. Hosting gives the Youngs the opportunity to educate “two generations of Americans who have never known chestnuts.”
They have met with chestnut growers in Slovenia, Croatia, Italy, and Australia. One of their favorite trips was to Tuscany, where they learned to make chestnut flour. Ms. Young is allergic to wheat and uses the chestnut flour in combination with other nonwheat flours to make gluten-free baked goods and pancakes.
Chestnuts are low in calories and fat compared to other nuts. Their water content is high, about 50 percent, and they keep best under refrigeration. But most produce managers display them with other nuts, where they often dry out or show signs of mold within a few days.
Ms. Young says this recipe came from another source, but she has tweaked it enough over the years until she feels safe calling it her own. She likes to serve the soup with chestnut honey cornbread.
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
1 celery stalk, finely chopped
1 pound fresh chestnuts, peeled
3 cups homemade chicken broth or low-sodium store-bought chicken broth
¼ cup apple juice
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
½ teaspoon dried tarragon
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Plain yogurt or sour cream, for garnish (optional)
1. In a large saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot, and celery, and cook about 4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until soft. Stir in the chestnuts and cook about 5 minutes more, until they begin to soften.
2. Stir in the broth, apple juice, parsley, tarragon, nutmeg, ¼ teaspoon salt, and a pinch of pepper and bring to a simmer over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for 15 to 20 minutes, until the chestnuts are tender.
3. Working in two batches, process the soup in a blender or food processor until smooth. Return the soup to the saucepan and warm over low heat. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
4. Ladle into bowls and garnish with the yogurt.
SERVES 4
FOOD MILL Before mechanical food mills, mashing food was arduous work. Cooks used the backs of spoons to force soft-cooked food through drum- or cone-shaped fine-mesh strainers, until Jean Mantelet invented a pan-shaped strainer with a hand-cranked blade. It was patented on August 8, 1933. After Walter Ringer, a manufacturer in Minneapolis, bought the patent, his company, Foley Manufacturing, produced and marketed the machine allowing the home cook to turn out pureed soups without breaking a sweat.
ELECTRIC BLENDER With electricity, kitchen tasks changed forever. In 1910, L. H. Hamilton, Chester Beach, and Fred Osius started the Hamilton Beach Manufacturing Company to develop kitchen appliances. In 1922, Stephen Poplawski put a spinning blade at the bottom of a container to chop, grind, and puree food, according to Mary Bellus, an expert on inventions for About.com. He sold the blenders to drugstores so they could make Horlick’s malted milkshakes.
In 1935, Mr. Osius improved upon Mr. Poplawski’s design and sold it to Fred Waring, who introduced it as the Miracle Mixer at the National Restaurant Show in Chicago. It cost $29.75. Mr. Waring renamed his company the Waring Corporation and the mixer the Waring Blender. According to Ms. Bellus, Mr. Waring sold the mixer to hotels and restaurants, to upscale department stores such as Bloomingdale’s, and finally to bars. “This mixer is going to revolutionize American drinks,” he told a reporter.
Four years before the one millionth Waring blender was sold in 1954, the immersion blender—also called a stick, wand, or hand blender or a Bermixer (after professional models made by Dito-Electrolux)—was invented in Switzerland by Roger Perrinjaquet. He called the new appliance, a handy and powerful wand that blends the soup right in the pot, a bamix, a portmanteau of the French bat (beat) and the English word mix. European professional kitchens adopted them in the 1960s, and they were adapted for home use in the United States in the 1980s.
