STRACCIATELLE in BROTH with SORREL
THIS EGG-DROP SOUP IS A LIGHT BUT RESTORATIVE DISH. It is very easy to digest, and a perfect meal when you are feeling under the weather. Stracciatelle, literally, are “rags,” specifically the pulpy, pounded rags required for old-fashioned papermaking. The metaphor is apt; if you have ever seen pounded rag pulp, it will help you visualize the tender bits of cooked egg. I started adding sorrel to this traditional Roman formula years ago because I like its flavor with eggs and it cooks instantly with the “rags.” For really fluffy “rags,” use a really fresh egg and beat it just before you add it to the broth.
Wine: Bonarda Oltrepò Pavese, Castello Luzzano, 1999
FOR ABOUT 4-1/4 CUPS:
About 4 cups Chicken Stock {here}
Salt
1 large cold egg
1 tablespoon semolina
4 teaspoons lightly packed, finely grated pecorino romano or Parmigiano-Reggiano
Scant 2 ounces tender sorrel leaves, stems trimmed
Place the stock in a 2- to 4-quart saucepan and bring to a gentle simmer. Taste and correct for salt. Skim any fat.
Lightly beat the egg with the semolina and cheese just until homogenous. Cut the sorrel into skinny ribbons. Add both to the simmering broth. After 5 seconds, stir vigorously with a fork, then reduce the heat slightly. The “rags” will look like mimosa blossoms. Let cook for about 1 minute at a bare simmer. The beaten egg will clarify the broth as the “rags” firm up.
Serve instantly in warm bowls.
ONION SOUP with TOMATO & A POACHED EGG
INEXPENSIVE AND EASY TO MAKE. If you use duck fat, the soup will be unusually fragrant. The soup is made even better by the addition of a tablespoon of that salty gelée you can collect from the bottom of the pot after you make duck confit. If you go the olive oil route, a few ounces of soaked, flaked House-Cured Salt Cod or Brandade are delicious simmered into this soup, with or without the egg.
Wine: Moulin-à-Vent, Vielles Vignes, Domaine Bernard Diochon, 2000
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
1/4 cup duck fat {see Sources and Resources, here} or extra-virgin olive oil
1 pound sliced yellow onions {2 medium onions, about 4 cups}
Salt
2 garlic cloves, slivered
A sprig of fresh thyme
4 cups Chicken Stock {here}, warmed
1 tablespoon salty confit gelée {see here} {optional}
1 very ripe tomato {about 6 ounces}, peeled and coarsely chopped
A 2-ounce slice or chunk of chewy, peasant-style bread
4 ounces {2/3 cup} soaked House-Cured Salt Cod {here}, torn into thumbnail-sized bits, or scant 1/4 cup Brandade {here} {optional}
4 eggs
Freshly cracked black pepper
Preheat the oven to 400°.
Warm 3 tablespoons of the duck fat or olive oil in a 3-quart sauté pan over low to medium heat. Add the sliced onions, a few pinches of salt, the garlic, and thyme. Cook, stirring regularly until the onions are translucent and have collapsed onto themselves, about 15 minutes; don’t let them color. Taste a sliver of onion; it should be sweet and tender, but not mushy.
Add the warm stock and the gelée if using. Bring to a simmer and stir in the chopped tomato. Return to a gentle simmer and cook for another 5 minutes or so. Taste for salt. Fish out the thyme, and let it cool slightly, then run it between your thumb and forefinger to strip any remaining leaves into the soup. Discard the stem.
Meanwhile, tear or cut the bread into 4 pieces and brush with the remaining 1 tablespoon duck fat or olive oil. Spread on a baking sheet and toast until unevenly golden, about 6 minutes.
If using salt cod or Brandade, stir into the soup.
Crack each egg into a saucer or small, shallow bowl. Tipping each dish just above the surface of the simmering broth, slide in the eggs, aiming to keep them separate. The freshest eggs will set to neat orbs, older eggs will spin delicate threads into the simmering broth~which the rustic character of the soup will forgive. Cook the eggs to the desired doneness~usually 3 to 4 minutes. You may wish to baste the eggs with the broth, or cover the pot to set the top of the yolks.
Set a warm croûton in each of four warm bowls. Spoon an egg, along with a tangle of onions and a bit of tomato, into each bowl and fill with the broth. Offer freshly cracked black pepper.
BEEF BROTH with MARROW CROÛTONS & A TRUFFLED EGG
WE SERVE A DOZEN DIFFERENT “EGGS POACHED IN BRODO” SOUPS. This is the most elegant and one of my favorite truffle dishes, even though it presents no truffles to the eye. The warm yolks have instead an intoxicating truffle perfume that I swoon over every time we make it. The eggs absorb the truffle scent through their porous shells. For the prettiest poached eggs, use very fresh ones. Older eggs spin a web of filaments, which would spoil the look of this pristine soup. {You can also make this soup with “un-truffled” eggs.}
This soup will serve as a fine first course for a formal meal, but would not be out of place before a rustic Pot-au-Feu {here}, where you make it with the broth from that boiled dinner.
Wine: La Calonica, Rosso di Montepulciano, 1999
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
About 2 ounces beef marrow {1/4 cup} or a combination of marrow and unsalted butter at room temperature*
8 thin slices plain baguette
Salt and freshly cracked black pepper
2 cups Beef Stock {here}
A little water or Chicken Stock {here}, as needed
4 eggs, refrigerated for a few days in a closed container with a fresh black or white truffle
A few fresh chives
Preheat the oven to 425°.
Chop, then mash the marrow, or marrow with butter. Season with 4 pinches of salt and a few grinds of black pepper. Spread on the sliced baguette. Arrange the bread on a baking sheet and toast until golden, 6 to 8 minutes. Keep in a warm spot while you finish the soup.
Bring the stock to a simmer in a small saucepan. Skim and, if it is not limpid, strain it through a clean, lint-free linen or cotton cloth. {Wet the cloth first with water and squeeze it out so it doesn’t soak up your soup.} Taste for salt, and, if it seems too rich or beefy, dilute it with water, or chicken stock if you have it.
Transfer the broth to 12-inch skillet or 3-quart sauté pan and bring to a simmer over low heat. Crack each of the eggs into a deep saucer or small, shallow bowl. Tipping each dish just above the surface, slide the eggs into the barely simmering broth; stagger the additions by about 10 seconds to give each egg a chance to set slightly, so they are less likely to stick together. Large eggs will fit in the pan without overlapping; extra-large or jumbo eggs may collide. To maintain a simmer, you may have to raise the heat to compensate for the arrival of the eggs. Spoon broth over the exposed yolks, or gently tilt and swirl the pan to bathe them. Cook to desired doneness, typically 3 to 4 minutes.
Lift each egg from the broth with a large, flat spoon and slide into warm bowls. Fill the bowls with the broth. Garnish with the warm marrow croûtons and freshly snipped chives.
BOILED KALE, FOUR WAYS
THESE DISHES ARE AS DELICIOUS AS THE TITLE SOUNDS DULL. They are simple to make, inexpensive, and restorative, and the basic boiled kale keeps well for days. Hard to classify~only certain renditions appear overtly soup-like~these primitive concoctions can appear at breakfast, lunch, or dinner or as a midnight snack or midafternoon energy booster.
I use cavolo nero {black cabbage}, a slender, bumpy-leaved kale, which is also marketed as lascinato kale, dino kale, and Tuscan kale, but curly kale will do fine, as will collard greens.
Wine: Saucelito Canyon Zinfandel, 1999
FOR ABOUT 4 CUPS:
Generous 8 ounces kale
1-1/2 cups diced yellow onions {6 ounces}
5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
A pinch of dried red pepper flakes or a small dried chili {optional}
2 garlic cloves, slivered {optional}
3 to 4 cups water
Trim the kale of any discolored or damaged leaves, wash in several baths of cold water, and drain. Stack and roll up a few leaves at a time, then slice 1/8 inch thick.
Place the onions and oil in a 4-quart saucepan and set over low to medium heat. Cook, stirring once or twice, until the onions are translucent but still firm, about 3 minutes. Add the optional chili and garlic and the kale, and stir as it wilts into a heavy mass, about 5 minutes. Add water to cover by 1/2 inch and bring to a simmer. Salt to taste. Cover and simmer until the kale is tender but not mushy, about 30 minutes; add water if necessary to keep the kale just submerged. Taste for salt.
BOILED KALE on TOAST
Grill or toast thick slices of crusty, chewy, peasant-style bread until golden or even slightly charred. Rub both sides with raw garlic while still hot. Float the toasts on the surface of the simmering kale, just long enough to soak up some “pot liquor,” then transfer to wide soup plates. Generously garnish each slice of steamy bread with a few sloppy forkfuls of boiled kale, then finish with a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil, shavings of aged Tuscan pecorino {or grated pecorino romano}, and freshly cracked black pepper. If you have a slice of leftover prosciutto or smoked prosciutto, cut it into ribbons and drop them on the warm kale. Serve with a knife, fork, and spoon.
BOILED KALE with EGGS, FRIED OR POACHED
Prepare soggy toast as described above, garnish with the kale, and top each with an egg fried in extra-virgin olive oil. Warm a teaspoon of red wine vinegar in the skillet you used for the eggs and pour over the eggs.
Or, transfer the boiled kale to a wide sauté pan and bring to a simmer. Crack 1 egg per person into the pot, taking care to space them an inch or so apart. Drizzle the eggs with extra-virgin olive oil, cover, and cook at a bare simmer until done to your liking. Spoon each ragged egg, with plenty of extra kale and broth, into a bowl and serve with toast, rubbed with garlic if you like.
KALE PAPPA & KALE FARINATA
Prepare the kale as directed, but increase the water by about 1 cup, enough to cover the kale by about 1-1/2 inches.
For Pappa: Return the kale to a hard boil, then stir in about 4 ounces slightly stale, chewy, peasant-style bread, torn into bite-sized wads. Add a splash of extra-virgin olive oil, cover tightly, and turn off the heat. Leave to rest for 10 minutes, then stir and serve with freshly cracked black pepper and grated pecorino romano or Parmigiano-Reggiano.
For Farinata: Cool the kale, then stir in 1 generous tablespoon semolina flour per cup. Return to the heat and stir as it comes to a simmer, then cook gently for about 15 minutes. The earthy soup will become velouté.
PAPPA al POMODORO
TOMATO “PAP” IS A FRIENDLY STAPLE OF TUSCAN COOKERY. It is a good, easy dish to make when you have too many ripe tomatoes, a half a loaf of yesterday’s bread, and not much else. Its homey, porridgey texture always seduces, and the robust tomato flavor, not complicated here by long cooking or the addition of stock, is elemental. La pappa is traditionally served by itself, like a soup, but I also enjoy it as a side dish with roasted or grilled birds or with grilled lamb chops.
Wine: Saintsbury Pinot Noir “Garnet,” 2000
FOR ABOUT 4 CUPS:
About 2 pounds very ripe tomatoes
About 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup diced yellow onions {4 ounces}
Salt
About 3 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
A leafy branch of fresh basil
Sugar {optional}
About 1/4 pound day-old, chewy, peasant-style bread, most of the crust removed
Freshly cracked black pepper
Core the tomatoes and trim of blemishes or underripe shoulders. Blanch, or blister over an open flame, and peel about half of them {see here}; leave the skins on the remainder. {Aside from giving the pappa more flavor, the skins give this version its distinctive texture.} Coarsely chop the tomatoes into 1/4-inch bits, taking care to capture all the juices. Collect the tomatoes and juice in a bowl.
Warm about 1/4 cup of the olive oil in a 4-quart saucepan or 3-quart sauté pan over low heat. Add the onions and a pinch of salt. Stirring a few times, cook over medium-low heat for 5 to 10 minutes while the onions soften and “sweat” in their juices; they will become translucent and sweeter. Once they are tender, stir in the garlic. Cook for a few minutes longer, then add the tomatoes~juice, seeds, and all~and another healthy splash of oil. Raise the heat and bring to a simmer.
Pick the leaves from the basil and set them aside, then push the stem into the sauce. Cook only long enough for the bits of tomato to collapse and release their skins, another 5 to 10 minutes. Watch the color of the sauce, and stop the cooking just as it takes on the characteristic orangey hue of cooked tomatoes. Taste for salt and for sweetness. If you find the sauce too acidic, add a pinch of sugar, but reserve final judgement until after you add the bread. You should have about 4 cups of sauce.
Remove the basil stem. Tear the basil leaves and add to the sauce. Tear the bread into fistfuls. Bring the sauce to a boil, add the bread, and stir just until it is saturated and submerged. Cover the pan with a tightly fitting lid, remove from the heat, and place in a very warm spot, or place over barely simmering water. Leave the bread to swell and soften for 15 minutes or so.
When you are ready to serve the pappa, give it a vigorous stir to break up the chunks of softened bread, taste again, and adjust for salt and sweetness. Stir in a few more spoonfuls olive oil to enrich the pappa and enhance its perfume. But don’t overstir the pappa once you’ve added the bread, lest you sacrifice its delightful lightness and pleasantly lumpy, irregular texture.
Offer cracked black pepper and extra-virgin olive oil with the pappa.
SWEATING
AS A CULINARY OPERATION, “SWEATING” MEANS TO MAKE A FOOD release and then cook in its own moisture.* This typically produces a mild, dilute flavor and a soft texture {as contrasted with browning, which deepens flavors, introduces new flavors, and firms texture}. Sweating is most efficiently accomplished by crowding the food in a straight-sided pan, which restricts evaporation {using a deeper pot or covering it will restrict it further}, and cooking over low heat. That way the cell walls slowly collapse and expel moisture, which falls back on them, preventing the sugars from caramelizing and fats or proteins from coloring. The liquid becomes part of the cooking medium {a little oil, butter, or other fat usually being the remainder}. Sweating is a generally a quiet operation; if the food is whispering, or worse, hissing, the moisture is probably evaporating too rapidly. If sweating is your goal, adding salt to the food before cooking, or early in the cooking, is a good idea, as it draws out water {although, if you drain or wipe that water off, you will enhance browning instead}. Frequent stirring can also encourage sweating; it quietly distresses the weakening cells, encouraging their collapse. Finally, when you plan to sweat something, don’t preheat the pan or the fat.
ASPARAGUS & RICE SOUP with PANCETTA & BLACK PEPPER
THIS SIMPLE SOUP IS CROWDED WITH FLAVORS AND TEXTURES. The ingredients are dosed to strike a high-pitched balance between the sweet onion and asparagus and the pungent pancetta and pepper. The mild, tender rice mediates. You can use jumbo, medium, or skinny asparagus spears, as long as they are perky and sweet. Choose spears with neat, tight tips and bright firm stalks. I use Carnaroli or Arborio rice for this soup, because I usually have it in-house for risotto, but you can use any type of white rice you like, and gauge the cooking time accordingly.
Wine: Penfolds Eden Valley Reserve Riesling, 2000
FOR ABOUT 4 CUPS:
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 cups diced yellow onions {8 ounces}
Salt
1/4 cup white rice
About 3-1/2 cups Chicken Stock {here}
1/2 cup water
About 8 ounces asparagus, woody ends trimmed
3 to 4 ounces pancetta, finely minced {1/2 to 2/3 cup}
Freshly cracked black pepper
Warm about 1/4 cup of the oil in a 4-quart saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the onions and a pinch of salt and cook slowly, stirring regularly. Don’t let the onions color; they should “sweat” their moisture and then become tender and translucent in about 10 minutes. Add the rice, chicken stock, and water and bring to a simmer. Cover tightly and cook until the rice is nutty-tender, probably 15 to 20 minutes, depending on the rice you choose. The broth will be cloudy and should taste sweet from the onions. Turn off the heat.
While the rice is cooking, sliver the asparagus, slicing it on an angle about 1/8 inch thick. Don’t worry if the slivers vary a little in thickness; the irregularity will guarantee uneven cooking and a pleasantly varied texture. You should get about 2 cups.
Warm the remaining 2 tablespoons oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium heat. Add the pancetta and asparagus slivers and stir once to coat, then spread them out and leave to sizzle until those at the edges of the pan begin to color. Toss or stir once, then leave to color again. Repeat a few times until the mass has softened and shrunk by about one-third.
Scrape the pancetta and asparagus into the broth and bring to a boil. Add lots of pepper. Boil for about 1 minute. This soup is best when served promptly, while all the flavors are still bold and the texture varied.
LENTIL–SWEET RED PEPPER SOUP with CUMIN & BLACK PEPPER
AN EASY, HEARTY SOUP THAT CAN BE READY IN HALF AN HOUR. We use the small, plump, shrewdly marketed black lentil dubbed “Beluga” for this soup, as well as dark green French lentils. You can also use flat olive green lentils, or try other pulses, like split peas~green, orange, or gold. Just be prepared to adjust the amount of stock or water and the cooking time. I have served this soup three different ways: straight from the pot, irregularly mashed in a mortar, and fully puréed in a blender or processor~each method produces a different texture and character, and I like all three.
You can garnish the soup with a few scraps of browned braised bacon, or enrich it with a spoonful of the strong juices that braising bacon generates {see Pasta with Braised Bacon and Roasted Tomato Sauce, here}.
Wine: Gigondas, Château du Trignon, 1999
FOR ABOUT 4 CUPS:
3 to 4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/3 to 1/2 cup diced sweet red pepper {bells, gypsies, Corno di Toro, or sweet Italian}
1/2 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
1/4 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/4 cup finely diced carrot {1 ounce}
1/4 cup finely diced celery {1 ounce}
1/4 cup finely diced yellow onion {1 ounce}
1 to 2 garlic cloves, smashed and chopped
1 bay leaf
A sprig of fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped {both stem and leaves}
1 cup lentils, preferably black or dark green French, picked over
4 to 4-1/2 cups Chicken Stock {here} or water, or a combination
Warm a tablespoon of the olive oil in a 4-quart saucepan over medium heat. Add the diced pepper and cook, stirring regularly, until it begins to color slightly, about 5 minutes.
Crush the peppercorns and cumin seeds in a mortar. Add both to the peppers and cook for another minute. Add the remaining 2 to 3 tablespoons oil, carrot, celery, onion, garlic, bay leaf, parsley, and lentils and about 3 cups of the stock or water. Bring to a simmer. Stir, and taste the liquid for salt. Reduce the heat and cook uncovered, barely simmering, until the lentils are tender and have absorbed most of the liquid, about 15 minutes. Turn off the heat, cover, and leave 5 minutes for the lentils to soften.
If you are going to purée or partially crush the lentils, do so now~it is most efficient to do this while the mixture is thick and dense, before you add the last of the liquid. Once you add more liquid, the lentils will find it easier to dodge the blender blades, or your pestle.
Add more liquid, in 1/2-cup doses, to bring the soup to the desired texture. Simmer, taste again, and serve.
LA GARBURE LANDAISE
ACCORDING TO PEPETTE, MY LODESTAR FOR ALL THINGS INVOLVING DUCK FAT, la garbure should include the whole garbe, or “everything you can grab” from the garden, in this case a modest garden in Southwest France.
Duck fat makes this an unusual and fragrant winter vegetable soup. Choose a not-so-pretty piece of confit to flavor the soup~a duck leg that got overcooked, or torn, or the flavorful but not-so-diner-friendly neck or winglet pieces. Garbure is traditionally made with water and flavored with jambon cru~the French version of prosciutto~a bone, rind, or a gnarly scrap of sinewy meat. {Ask for these where you buy prosciutto; most stores will be happy to sell you what doesn’t make pretty slices at a pretty friendly price.} I also like to flavor this soup with salty duck gelatin harvested from the bottom of the confit pot, whenever we have it. You can also use chicken stock.
Wine: Château Bonnet, Bordeaux Rouge, 1999
FOR ABOUT 4 CUPS:
About 8 ounces duck confit~a small leg or a few necks or winglets {to make your own, see Duck Confit, here, or see Sources and Resources, here}
1-1/2 tablespoons duck fat {scraped from the confit}
1/4 cup carrot, peeled and sliced into half-moons {about 1 ounce}
1/4 cup sliced celery {about 1 ounce}
1/4 cup diced yellow onion {about 1 ounce}
1/2 cup sliced leeks~a mix of green and white parts {about 1-1/2 ounces}
2 large, dark green outer leaves Savoy cabbage, cut into bite-sized strips
A sprig of fresh thyme
3 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
3/4 cup diced and peeled winter squash, such as butternut, Kabocha, or pumpkin
About 3 ounces prosciutto scraps or rind, or a larger chunk of prosciutto bone with some bits of meat attached
2-1/4 cups water plus 2 tablespoons salty confit gelatin {here} or 2-1/4 cups Chicken Stock {here}
Salt
A few fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, coarsely chopped
1 to 1-1/4 cups cooked white beans finished with duck fat, and their cooking liquid {see Dried Beans, here}
Set the confit in a warm spot to drain of excess fat.
Warm the 1-1/2 tablespoons duck fat in a 4-quart saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the carrot, celery, onion, leeks, cabbage, and thyme. Cook uncovered, stirring regularly, until the cabbage has turned bright green and all of the vegetables have softened slightly, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic, squash, prosciutto scrap or bone, and the water and gelatin or chicken stock. Bring to a simmer and salt lightly.
Use your fingers to “squeegee” the remaining surface fat from the confit, then add the confit to the soup. Cover and simmer for about 15 minutes.
Stir in the parsley and white beans and simmer for another 15 minutes. Pull the confit from the pan. Remove and discard the skin, slide out the bones, and then break up the pieces of meat as you drop them back in the soup. Bring back to a simmer, taste for salt, and serve. Garbure holds and reheats well, though the beans will thicken it somewhat, which I like.
CORN-SHRIMP BISQUE
BISQUE DOES NOT HAVE TO BE DAUNTING, PARTICULARLY IF YOUR FIRST EFFORTS concern shrimp, as described here. Hard-shelled crab, lobster, and crayfish bisque can be noisy, splattery, multistep operations, which are possible to botch if you are unfamiliar with the process.* The method here is easy, but do allow about 20 minutes to strain and press the purée.
We also use this formula to make soft-shelled crab bisque, an extravagance, but a good way to make the best of the not-so-soft-shelled “crunchies” that are often shipped to our coast.
We sometimes garnish this bisque with squash blossoms, grilled or sautéed and then chopped.
Wine: Raymond Napa Valley Reserve Chardonnay, 1999
FOR ABOUT 4 CUPS:
5 to 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
About 3/4 cup thinly sliced carrots {3 ounces}
About 1/2 cup thinly sliced celery {2 ounces}
About 3/4 cup thinly sliced yellow onions {3 ounces}
1 bay leaf
A small dried chili
2 garlic cloves, slivered {optional}
1 to 1-1/4 pounds shrimp in their shells or 4 plump soft-shelled crabs
1/2 cup thinly sliced fennel {2 ounces}
2-1/2 to 3 cups Shellfish Fumet {see below} or a combination of Shellfish Fumet or Shellfish Essence {also below} and Chicken Stock {here}
Salt
About 3 cups freshly scraped corn kernel tips and their milky juice {6 to 12 young ears, depending on size and yield} {see here}
Melt about 2 tablespoons of the butter in a 4-quart saucepan over medium heat. Add the carrot, celery, onions, bay leaf, chili, and garlic, if using. Stir until all of the vegetables are coated, then reduce the heat to medium-low and cook until tender, about 5 minutes.
Meanwhile, coarsely chop the shrimp or crabs in their shells. Add them, along with a second 2 tablespoons butter, to the vegetables, raise the heat to medium, and stir occasionally as the shellfish sweats and steams for about 5 minutes.
Add the fennel. Add fumet or fumet and stock to just the depth of the shellfish and vegetables. Bring to a simmer, taste for salt, and cook uncovered at a bare simmer until the liquid tastes strongly of shellfish, 15 to 20 minutes.
Stir in enough corn that the liquid is quite crowded~the vegetables should still be barely covered; you should have at least a few tablespoons of corn left over.
Cover and simmer until the corn is quite tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Remove from the heat.
Fish out and discard the bay leaf {and chili pod, unless you want your bisque quite spicy}, then purée incompletely, using a blender or processor. Stop every few seconds to avoid homogenizing the mix. The result should be thick and creamy, but densely flecked with coarse shell bits.
The most efficient way to strain the mixture is to pass it first through a coarse strainer or food mill, pressing hard to force all the liquid and vegetable purée through, then pass it through a finer sieve to catch the smaller flecks of shell. Taste and correct the salt. If the resulting bisque is too thick, add a little fumet or stock. If it is a little thin, you can thicken it with the remaining corn: Cook the corn with a tablespoon or so of butter in a small saucepan over low heat, covered until tender. Add a little of the bisque, purée thoroughly, strain, and add this to the thin batch. Or, if your bisque already has a nice texture, simply add the cooked kernels whole.
Stir in some or all of the remaining butter, to your taste, as you heat the soup for serving. Don’t let the bisque boil.
SHELLFISH FUMET & SHELLFISH ESSENCE
Extracting lovely flavor from throwaway shells is as gratifying as it is easy. Use shells from crab, shrimp, crayfish, or lobster. A meal of cracked crab or boiled lobster is an excellent source, as you will have heaps of shells, some with caches of meat inside. If you have only a modest amount of shell, double-wrap them in plastic, place in a storage container and freeze for up to a few weeks, until you have enough to warrant brewing a pot of fumet.
Make as you would fish fumet {here}, but adjust for the following: unlike fish bones, crustacean shells yield their flavor reluctantly. Shellfish fumet takes longer to peak in flavor than fish broth, up to an hour. Accordingly, there is no need to boil off the alcohol in the wine in advance, and the vegetables should be more thickly sliced. Taste regularly as the brew evolves from bland and vaguely metallic to thinly sweet to saturated with shellfish flavor. Strain and cool completely. Freeze what you don’t plan to use the same day. Unlike fish fumet, you can reduce it by 90 percent or so to make a pungent, syrupy shellfish essence that is a culinary treasure. Use this by the teaspoon to flavor bisque, risotto, or butter sauces. Reduce as you would reduce stock to glaze {see Reduction: Turning Stock into Sauce, here}.
* You can poke the marrow from the shank bones before you roast them to make beef stock, or pry the marrow from about 2 pounds split beef femur bones; rinse and store in cold water, refrigerated, for up to 1 week.
* Where vegetables and fruits are concerned, and that is most often what we sweat, the French have a useful phrase, eau de végétation~“plant water”~for this moisture.
* As I was, when I almost served a pot of thoroughly puréed lobster bisque at Chez Panisse about three months into my tenure there. Several tubs of lobster shells from dinner the night before had been iced and saved for me to transform into bisque for lunch. I did what just about every nervous young cook does one almost-fatal time: I hesitated, but didn’t ask for help, or say that I had never made a bisque before. My bisque was more like clay slip than soup, so thick it was with finely pulverized shell. But Chez Panisse had angels watching over it {and my fumbling}. The head waitress took a sip just before we opened, and with well-contained panic, suggested it not be served.