Soup Night (34 page)

All the recipes I have ever seen tell you to spread the cut-up bread on a sheet pan or jelly-roll pan (which is nothing more than a cookie sheet with rims), sprinkle with olive oil, and toss the bread to coat with oil. When I try to do it that way, those little bread pieces want to jump all over the counter. It’s so much easier to use a bowl.

Put a thin layer of olive oil in the bottom of a mixing bowl, sprinkle in any herbs or spices that you like, dump in the bread cubes, and quickly toss them around. If you’re making a large amount, say more than 2 cups, I’ve found that it works better to do two small batches in the bowl, otherwise the bread that lands on the bottom absorbs all the oil before you can finish tossing.

1. 1.
   Preheat the oven to 375°F.
   
2. 2.
   Start with sliced bread of your choice: white, whole wheat, rye, sourdough, whatever you have on hand. If it is a few days old, so much the better. Cut the bread into cubes somewhere between
   ¹
   ⁄
   ₂
   and 1 inch square, whatever looks right to you.
   
3. 3.
   For each cup of bread cubes, add 1 tablespoon olive oil to a mixing bowl. For optional flavoring, add
   ¹
   ⁄
   ₂
   teaspoon or so of herbs or spices of your choice, such as garlic powder, basil, smoked paprika, or spice blends like Italian or Mexican seasoning — whatever complements the flavor of the dish they will be used with.
   
4. 4.
   Add the bread cubes to the oil and stir them around quickly, to coat.
   
5. 5.
   Spread the bread cubes in a single layer on a baking sheet and place in the oven, shaking the pan once or twice for even toasting. The croutons are ready when they are lightly browned and start to smell like toast, 4 to 5 minutes. The croutons will be soft when they first come out of the oven, but will get crisper as they cool. If you leave them in the oven long enough to get crisp while they are still hot, they will be hard as rocks when they cool, and probably burned to boot.
   

Menlo Park, California

Robin’s story is familiar: wanting to foster a sense of community in her neighborhood, she decided to start a Soup Night after reading a magazine article some years ago. For her first Soup Night, she prepared flyers that she and her children then hand-delivered through the neighborhood. “People were so gracious,” she remembers, “so appreciative of the opportunity. And it was so much fun to see my sweet neighbors meeting each other. I think we all need community.”

A busy mom who home-schools her two children, Robin soon realized she had to find ways to do Soup Night that didn’t wear her out. Switching to e-mail invitations saved a lot of time. But the biggest change came when she realized she didn’t need to spend a lot of energy cleaning up beforehand. “That just destroys the intent. And I don’t fuss at the kids to clean up their room either. Who cares about that? That’s not the point of Soup Night.”

Recipe from Katie Pool, Stanton Street, Portland, Oregon

Serves 6

Katie says: This recipe is adapted from a fabulous cookbook called
The New Basics
,
from the Silver Palate ladies. I love everything I’ve ever made from that book, but this time I needed something for pescatarians, so I started with their Corn Chowder and made a few changes. They called for bacon and chicken broth; I substituted smoked salmon and vegetable broth. It was so good, I never went back to the original recipe. It is best when I use fresh corn in the dead of summer; second best is corn I froze myself, but any other frozen corn is okay. It’s very rich, so sometimes I reduce the half-and-half and add regular milk.

• 2 tablespoons butter or 1 tablespoon each butter and vegetable oil
  
• 2 cups chopped onions
  
• 8–12 ounces smoked salmon
  
• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  
• 4 cups vegetable broth
  
• 2 large potatoes, peeled and cut into
  ¹
  ⁄
  ₄
  -inch dice
  
• 1 cup half-and-half
  
• 4 cups corn kernels, fresh or frozen
  
• ³
  ⁄
  ₄
  teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  
• Salt
  
• 1 large red bell pepper, seeded and cut into
  ¹
  ⁄
  ₄
  -inch dice
  
• 3 scallions (use white bulb and about half of the green tops), cut into
  ¹
  ⁄
  ₄
  -inch slices
  
• Chopped fresh cilantro
  

1. 1.
   Melt the butter in a large soup pot. Add the onions and cook over low heat until wilted, about 10 minutes.
   
2. 2.
   Crumble the salmon into small pieces and add to the onions, along with any juices that have collected in the package. Add the flour and cook, stirring, for another 5 minutes.
   
3. 3.
   Add the broth and potatoes. Continue cooking over medium-low heat until potatoes are just tender, 12 to 15 minutes.
   
4. 4.
   Add the half-and-half, corn, black pepper, and salt to taste. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes, stirring occasionally.
   
5. 5.
   Add the bell pepper and scallions. Adjust the seasonings and cook for 5 minutes longer.
   
6. 6.
   Garnish with cilantro and serve.
   

Make ahead?
Yes, up through step 4. But it’s best if you make this the same day you plan to serve it.

For large crowds:
Smoked salmon is spendy, but a little bit goes a long way, so if you need to cut back on this ingredient when multiplying, it’ll still be fine.

Serves 6

If you’ve ever grown zucchini, you know the danger — in the dead of summer, this incredibly prolific plant seems to go from blossom to squash overnight, and then to HUGE in another day. People have been known to sneak onto neighbors’ porches in the middle of the night, leaving a pile of squashes anonymously. For all I know, there are 12-step programs to help gardeners and their friends cope with the overflow. Here’s one solution: a delicious vegetable soup that also features some of your late-season fresh tomatoes and basil, made hearty with the addition of cheese tortellini pasta bundles.

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
  
• 1 medium onion, diced
  
• 2 carrots, diced
  
• 1 celery stalk, diced
  
• 1 leek, white part plus a little of the green, trimmed and diced (see
  page 186
  )
  
• 2 thin-skinned potatoes, diced
  
• 2 large tomatoes, peeled and chopped
  
• 8 cups vegetable broth
  
• 12 ounces fresh or frozen cheese tortellini
  
• 2–3 small zucchini squash, sliced into half-rounds
  
• 1 tablespoon minced fresh basil, or basil pesto
  
• Parmesan cheese for garnish
  

1. 1.
   Heat the olive oil in a large soup pot over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot, celery, leek, and potatoes, and sauté just until the vegetables begin to soften, about 5 minutes.
   
2. 2.
   Add the tomatoes and the broth, and simmer until the potatoes and carrots are tender, 10 to 15 minutes.
   
3. 3.
   Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the tortellini for about 5 minutes, or according to the package instructions. Remove when still al dente; don’t overcook. Drain and set aside.
   
4. 4.
   Add the zucchini to the soup and simmer just until crisp-tender. Stir in the reserved tortellini.
   
5. 5.
   Stir in the basil (or pesto) and serve each bowl sprinkled with grated Parmesan.
   

Make ahead?
Through step 3 if you have to, but remove the soup from the heat before the vegetables are fully done, so that they don’t become mushy during reheating.

For large crowds:
How else are you going to get rid of all that zucchini?

Serves 6–8

Like most “country” dishes, Brunswick Stew was originally made from whatever was on hand, so over time many versions have developed, along with fierce rivalry over which is authentic. But the one from my grandmother’s South Carolina kitchen always had chicken, corn, tomatoes, okra, and lima beans (which Southerners call butterbeans), and so that’s what I consider the real thing. Common additions are ketchup, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, brown sugar, vinegar. You may think you don’t like okra, but if you leave it out you’ll have to call this dish something else — Yankee Stew, maybe.

• 1–2 cups all-purpose flour
  
• 1 teaspoon salt
  
• ¹
  ⁄
  ₂
  teaspoon black pepper
  
• 2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts and thighs, cut into bite-size chunks
  
• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil, or half oil and half bacon drippings
  
• 2 medium onions, chopped
  
• 1 hot red pepper, deseeded and minced
  
• 1 pound butterbeans (baby lima beans)
  
• 1 pound okra, trimmed and sliced
  
• 6 ears of corn, kernels cut from the cobs
  
• 2 pounds tomatoes, peeled and chopped
  
• 2 teaspoons sugar
  
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
  
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  

1. 1.
   Mix the flour, salt, and pepper in a large ziplock bag; add the chicken and shake like mad so the chicken pieces are well coated. Remove the chicken pieces, shaking off excess flour, and discard the flour mixture. Heat the oil in a large soup pot.
   
2. 2.
   Brown the chicken thoroughly, over medium-high heat, until no pink shows. Don’t crowd the chicken pieces in the pan; they’ll steam rather than brown. If you need to do several batches, set the first batch of browned chicken on a plate and cover lightly with aluminum foil while you do the rest.
   
3. 3.
   Add the onions, peppers, butterbeans (baby limas), okra, corn kernels, tomatoes, sugar, and Worcestershire, plus the reserved chicken and any juices that collected on the plate. Cover the pot and reduce the heat to low.
   
4. 4.
   Simmer until the chicken is thoroughly done and the vegetables are tender, about 15 minutes.
   
5. 5.
   Taste and adjust for salt and pepper, if needed. Serve hot.
   

Make ahead?
You bet. Like all stews, this improves with age.

For large crowds:
Well, my grandmother used to feed about 30 when the whole family was together, so it’s safe to say this recipe can be expanded.

I am a child of the South. And even though I have now lived in the Pacific Northwest much longer than the 21 early years I spent in the Carolinas, some bits of the South are still deep in the marrow of my bones. Food, in particular. And memories.

I especially remember my grandmother’s house, a wonderful old farmhouse with a wide front porch, a long lane lined with pecan trees and daffodils, and a huge vegetable garden out back. I spent many happy weeks there each summer, and it was here that I learned about growing good things to eat. Of course in that place and time, big vegetable gardens were the norm, not worth commenting on, but I know for a fact that my passion for fresh vegetables, and my love of vegetable gardening, started in my grandmother’s garden on this old cotton farm outside Bishopville, South Carolina.

Sundays after church there was always a mammoth dinner (the meal in the middle of the day) with some constants: fried chicken and maybe country ham, rice, green beans, butterbeans, corn, okra, maybe sweet potatoes, sliced tomatoes, green onions standing upright in a mason jar of vinegar, biscuits, some kind of pie. After everyone was stuffed, the edges of the tablecloth were pulled up over the bowls and platters on the table to keep the flies off, and then people would wander in during the afternoon, nibbling or making a small snack plate. Why we didn’t all die of food poisoning, I don’t know.

Other days, we might have a nice supper of Brunswick Stew. A quintessentially Southern summertime dish that I love to this day, it was made from all those garden vegetables, plus a freshly killed chicken and maybe a piece of pork from the smokehouse. It could be left simmering on the iron cookstove as long as needed while everybody finished other chores. Nowadays, of course, the chicken comes from the supermarket, but in every other way I do my best to make my grandmother proud.