Soup Night (15 page)

Any dish that cooks slowly for a long time in the oven or on the stove — like beef stew — is a good candidate for a bouquet garni. It sounds fancy, but it’s just a small bundle of various herbs and spices, tied together in some way and submerged in the liquid. The bundle can be created simply by tying sprigs of herbs together with twine , or by folding them into a tied packet of cheesecloth. Or use one of those screw-together metal balls meant for tea; they come in large sizes (for brewing a whole pitcher), and that’s the most versatile. The whole idea is that the essence of the herbs seeps into the dish, but the herbs themselves — now soggy and with most of the flavor extracted — are easy to remove at the end.

Aurora, Illinois

Back in 2003,
Kate Allen’s
mother read an inspiring article about a family that started a new tradition in their neighborhood, something called Soup Night. She told her daughter, who loved the idea and decided to do the same thing in her neighborhood. That original article by Julie Dahlberg (
page 58
) has had many ripple effects.

Kate began her Soup Night adventure with her then-roommate Stephanie, continued by herself after Stephanie moved, and then shared host duties with her new husband Jimi. In the beginning, Kate and Stephanie hand-delivered invitations to every house on the block: 11 on one side, 11 on the other side. Word spread fast: One man hollered, “Hey, are you the soup ladies?” That might have had something to do with the invitations themselves. Kate is a very talented artist and graphic designer, and her invitations are worth saving.

The first night, only about half a dozen people came, but that quickly increased. Soon hesitancy turned into enthusiasm. By 2007, when Kate planned a visit to her parents in India, neighbors were dismayed: what will happen to Soup Night? Gently, Kate suggested someone else might do it, and that’s when the hosting spread to other households. Now, each year Kate sends out a memo to everyone, asking for volunteers for the coming Soup Night season.

The original plan was to have Soup Night every week for 13 weeks, October to March. After Stephanie moved away, Kate shortened the season to December to February. She still invites all the neighbors, and makes a point to knock on the doors of those she doesn’t yet know.

Neighbor
Robert Johnson
told me, “Soup Night has become a highlight of our week. We love just getting together and chatting with the neighbors, eating some good soup and enjoying each other’s company. And our two kids love it. Every Tuesday they start asking us early in the day, ‘Where is Soup Night tonight?’”
Cheyenne Johnson,
Robert’s wife, adds this: “Our neighborhood is like a small town, or something from the 1950s. We trust each other, we help each other. And I know it really started with Soup Night.”

Our neighborhood is like a small town, or something from the 1950s. We trust each other, we help each other. And I know it really started with Soup Night.

Lisa Parro
has known Kate for many years, and has been going to Soup Night since the very beginning. “When she first told me about it, I thought, ‘That’s very much a Kate kind of thing. She has such a big heart.’ Still, I wasn’t sure how others would react. But it was terrific. That very first night, the conversations were amazing; people loved meeting their neighbors. I remember one time Kate and Jimi brought a business associate from out of town to Soup Night; he was really impressed, and pleased that he got to spend the evening with all of us instead of being by himself in a hotel.”

Another neighbor,
Trula Jaffarian
, gives the perspective of newcomers. “The first time we attended Soup Night, we were new in the neighborhood. It was warm, and welcoming, and very friendly, just a phenomenal opportunity to get to know neighbors. And now that we do know everyone, it’s also a great way to keep up with the news — who’s sick, who’s had a new baby, all that wonderful stuff. My three little granddaughters often come, and they absolutely
love
Soup Night; it means a lot to me to see them happy around all these people who know them by name. I think we’re all yearning for that sense of community, and here we have it. It helps that our neighborhood is geographically defined; there are two pillars and signs at the entrance. But mostly it’s because Kate made the effort and keeps us organized.”

Grace Martin
, another Allen neighbor, has a rich and poignant story.

“We moved to this neighborhood after 34 years in our previous neighborhood. We had good reasons, but for me, moving meant some huge changes. I left a job I loved, my church family of 37 years, the community I’d spent most of my adult life in, a house I loved, and great neighbors who were good friends as well. I didn’t want to start over.

“Then, three months after we’d been here, Kate Allen came by with an invitation to Soup Night. Attending these events helped me transition my loyalties and affections from my old neighborhood to my new one. Making new acquaintances at Soup Night put faces and names on my new neighbors and propelled me a long way into feeling like this now was home.

“At that time, Kate was the only one who hosted these events. Her soups always were delicious, and little touches like the candles in the mason jars up the steps added additional warmth along with her smiling welcome. Meeting the neighbors week by week on a regular basis helped all of us, newcomers and old-timers, establish links and make connections with each other. These folks became not just someone to nod at from down the street, but people with whom we would want to stop and chat.

“Longtime friends of ours also were downsizing and moved into the neighborhood because they liked the houses here. We immediately brought them to Soup Night, and they also felt very welcomed. They told us that they had lived in their old neighborhood for 20 years and had never been inside another neighborhood home. They moved to this neighborhood and within a few weeks had been in several homes meeting their new neighbors.

“On any given Soup Night, guests arrive looking forward to discovering what soup will be presented. Will it be an old favorite, or a new creation? No one comes thinking they can keep their diet in check. The food is too good! Neighbors are excited to see each other. The buzz in the host house is a happy music of spoons clinking on soup bowls mixed with lively conversations and raucous laughter. Guests meander in and out of sitting areas and back and forth to the soup pot and the food table, sharing and listening to the latest stories.

“We love Soup Night! It has been the foundation for community building in our neighborhood.”

Grace, who clearly has given a great deal of thought to this, also put together a few tips for Soup Night success, and also for entertaining in general; you’ll find them in the Start Your Own section later in the book.

• www.jimiallenproductions.com
  
• www.wemoveideas.com
  

• Grannie’s Gumbo
  
• Pumpkin Curry Soup
  
• Tortilla Turkey Soup
  

Recipe from
Cheyenne Johnson
, Aurora, Illinois

Serves 12–14

Like many great cooks, Cheyenne Johnson’s grandmother, Patricia Foster, didn’t follow an exact recipe for her gumbo. She was more of a “little of this, little of that, until it looks right” kind of kitchen wizard. For her own family, Cheyenne tries to emulate her grandmother’s spirit, but (luckily for us) she has developed an honest-to-Pete, written-down recipe, to which I have added a few notes.

• 1 whole chicken
  
• About 4 cups water (enough to cover the chicken)
  
• 1 cup vegetable oil or bacon drippings
  
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
  
• 1
  ¹
  ⁄
  ₂
  cups diced celery
  
• 1
  ¹
  ⁄
  ₂
  cups diced scallions
  
• 1 (16-ounce) package smoked sausage, sliced into
  ¹
  ⁄
  ₄
  -inch rounds
  
• 1 (2-pound) bag frozen, de-tailed and deveined shrimp, thawed
  
• 1 teaspoon gumbo filé powder, or more to taste
  
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
• Tabasco (optional)
  
• Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning (optional)
  
• Cooked rice
  

1. 1.
   Cook the chicken: In a large soup pot, simmer the whole chicken in water to cover, until it is completely done and the meat falls from the bones. Remove the chicken but save the broth, straining out and discarding any solids. When the chicken is cool enough to handle, remove and discard the skin and bones, and shred the meat into small bits.
   

   Note:
   A slow cooker is handy for this step, and allows you to do part of the soup in advance. Cheyenne uses plain water; you might want to pump up the flavor by adding a few whole peppercorns, dried chiles, or bay leaves.
   

2. 2.
   Make the roux: Heat the oil or bacon drippings (or a combination) in a large skillet over medium heat. Stir in the flour a little at a time. Cook the roux until it’s chocolate brown — don’t stop stirring! This can take anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. If you smell it starting to burn, turn the heat down and prepare to stir for a longer period of time. If you see black flecks, your roux is burned and you will need to start over.
   

   Note:
   Cheyenne says, “Getting the perfect roux can take some practice.” Indeed it can, but you won’t have authentic Cajun flavor without it. It’s a skill you’ll be glad you mastered, since roux in various stages of brown-ness (from blond to walnut) can be used to thicken and flavor many other dishes. See The Truth about Roux on
   page 112
   .
   

3. 3.
   Assemble the gumbo: When the roux is done, fold in the celery and scallions. Add the roux mixture, reserved broth and chicken, sausage, shrimp, and filé powder to a large soup pot, with salt and pepper to taste. Cook over medium heat until the vegetables are tender, 8 to 10 minutes. Gumbo is supposed to be thick, but if it seems too thick, add more chicken broth. For spicy gumbo, add Tabasco and Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning to taste. Serve over rice.
   

   Note:
   Filé powder is a traditional thickener and flavor addition for gumbo; it’s available in the spice section of most large supermarkets. Tony Chachere products, made in Louisiana, are available in supermarkets in the Southeastern United States and online.
   

Make ahead?
You can cook the chicken and make the roux as much as one day in advance, and that will save you lots of time. Refrigerate separately.

For large crowds:
Note that this recipe makes 12 to 14 servings. That’s because you start with one whole chicken, and that determines the total volume of the finished dish. If you need more than that, double everything.

Every year on Christmas Eve, for as long as I can remember, my Grannie Foster made a huge pot of this fabulous gumbo for the whole family. Everybody came — aunts, uncles, all the cousins, my parents, my brother, and me. I can’t imagine Christmas without it. She passed away in 2010, and that Christmas Eve, the first one without her, my aunts made the gumbo dinner for all the Louisiana relatives. We were not able to make the trip from Illinois that year, so I made the gumbo for us to enjoy here at home. I want our children to know that the tradition continues.

My grandfather was a pastor in Louisiana, which means that my grandmother was sort of an unofficial assistant pastor, doing whatever was needed to keep the church humming. At her memorial service we were asked to think of one word to describe her. The word I thought of was “gracious.” She was always the epitome of graciousness, to every person who crossed her path. I like to think that she would love our neighborhood Soup Night, and would be happy to know that I shared her gumbo with our wonderful neighbors.

— Cheyenne Johnson, Aurora, Illinois

Cheyenne Johnson’s recipe for her Grannie’s Gumbo (
page 110
) depends on a good, rich roux. So does many a Cajun dish. So, in fact, do many fine and wonderful dishes from other cuisines. It takes practice, but it is a skill well worth mastering. And, truth to tell, you really can’t do gumbo without it. Or béchamel sauce. Or even a good turkey gravy.

How important is it? I once had a Mardi Gras party at my home in Oregon. Not having Cheyenne’s Louisiana heritage to call on, I had no idea how to make Cajun food, so I went to the library for cookbooks. And I found one entitled
Who’s Your Mama, Are You Catholic, and Can You Make a Roux?

That’s
how important a good roux is in that part of the world.

But I’ll tell you a secret: It’s really not all that difficult. It just requires that you pay scrupulous attention.

A roux (pronounced roo) is a mixture of equal parts fat and flour, cooked until it is richly colored and fragrant. It serves as a thickener, but it is so much more. After long, slow cooking, it develops a rich, complex, smoky flavor that cannot be described in words and for which there is no substitute.

The fat can be butter, vegetable oil, bacon drippings, or a combination; traditional Cajun cooks often use rendered chicken fat. For dark Cajun roux, vegetable oil works best. Butter is not recommended for that, because the milk solids will tend to burn at high heat. Olive oil is similarly tricky, because it doesn’t do well at high heat and you need reasonably high heat to make a dark roux — for reasons that will soon become clear.

Clear your schedule. You will be tending a Cajun roux for a half hour or more, and you don’t want to be interrupted. Don’t answer the phone, don’t try any kind of multitasking, and don’t even start if you have to go pick up anyone from anywhere anytime soon.

Melt the fat in a large skillet — cast iron, if you have one — over medium-high heat. Gradually stir in the flour, blending well.

Keep on stirring. I mean it — don’t stop stirring. A good tool is a wooden spatula with a squared-off bottom that allows you to reach the very edge of the pan (which whisks, being round, do not).

Gradually the roux will become darker in color, going from blond to something resembling peanut butter, then to chocolate brown, all the way to dark walnut. Which stage you want depends on what you’re using it for; see below.

If it starts to smell burned, it is. If black bits show up, it has burned. Toss it. Not kidding — throw it out. Start over.

Remove the pan from the heat when the roux is ever so slightly paler in color than you want, because it will continue to cook for a few minutes after you take it off the heat, especially if you are using cast iron like I told you to.

You can do this ahead. Store the finished roux in the refrigerator. When it cools, some of the oil will rise to the top. When you’re ready to use, just stir it back in, or reheat quickly and stir a bit.

The reason I want you to master this mystery of the roux is that it’s used in so many dishes. And how long you cook it varies according to what you are cooking.

For sauces,
3 to 4 minutes is usually sufficient. You want the flour to cook enough to eliminate the raw taste, and fully incorporate with the oil or butter. This is a good time to use your butter; the risk of burning is lower, and its incomparable flavor works well with sauces. Then you’ll add the liquid and other flavorings that make your sauce what it is and continue to cook/stir until you reach the consistency you want.

For gravies,
cook the roux for 8 to 10 minutes. First, scrape from the bottom of the pan any bits left from what you were cooking: fried chicken, sausage, roast turkey, sautéed pork, whatever. Sprinkle the flour onto those little crumbs, stir them together for a few seconds, and then gradually add in the oil. Blend the oil and the flour thoroughly; if you’ve ever had lumpy gravy,
here
is where the damage occurred, and it’s practically impossible to rectify once the liquid goes in. Cook the roux, stirring continually, until you get a rich aroma and taste, and then add your liquid gradually, stirring some more, until it’s as thick as you like. Constant stirring is what makes a gravy creamy.

For Cajun or Creole dishes,
you want really brown. Follow the process for making roux for gravy, but continue to cook for 30 minutes or more. And that’s why you want relatively high heat, because to reach that color on low heat would take you so long you’d develop arm cramps, or you’d be tempted to crank the heat up to super-high and ruin the darned thing.