Carrot Soup All The Way from England

In spite of our drought, I had a fairly impressive garden this past winter: several varieties of lettuce, basil (until the frost killed it), and chives and parsley, which are both hardy in cold weather. I enjoyed fresh lettuce every day from November through March. But then I planted beets and carrots and it wasn’t long before ennui set in. I had purchased them as wispy-thin seedlings, clumped into small starter packs and they were planted too densely. I repeatedly thinned them for several weeks, but as they matured I could see they were still too close together. Feeling defeated, I left them to survive on their own. The beets kind of grew into each other, producing gigantic, grotesque beetroots that I cut up anyway into more manageable pieces and roasted in olive oil. They tasted just fine.

The carrots grew in a comically catawampus way, sticking out every which way, and kept poking their heads out of the ground to show off their colorful shoulders and try to convince me that they were actually beautiful. I finally pulled them all, relieving the poor darlings from further ridicule. I had decided to just chop them up and cook them in a light, carrot-ginger soup, or try to replicate Bryn's tasty curried carrot soup. But an article in the Los Angeles Times changed my mind.

 

What caught my eye was “A taste of Bath.” When I was in England in 2012 researching my family’s history in Cornwall, my British cousins persuaded me to join them in Bath where they were enjoying a weekend of theater, museums and sightseeing in that magnificent old city. John was anxious to take me to one of the oldest restaurants in town, the Sally Lunn EatingHouse. As a child in the 1940s, John and his mother had been sent from London to the countryside to escape the bombs dropped by German warplanes. One of his happiest memories of living in Bath is eating at Sally Lunn’s, so in a culinary nod to happy times, we gorged on his childhood favorite, the Bath Bun, a rich buttery roll that has a lump of white sugar baked into it, a delicacy that’s been famous since the 18^th century.

When we had recovered from the sugar high, we settled into healthier fare. Fortunately, the menu provided several choices, one of which was the subject of the Times’ article. Reading through it, I was nostalgic for my trip to England but I also had stumbled upon a way to use my homely carrots.

Sally Lunn’s Carrot and Lentil Soup

2 Tablespoons olive oil

2 Pounds carrots, chopped, about 6 cups

3 Large celery stalks, chopped

1 Onion, chopped

2 Leeks, white and pale green parts only

½ Lemon (peel and segments), chopped

6 Cloves garlic, chopped

1 Tablespoon ground cumin, or to taste

1 Teaspoon ground cardamom, or to taste

2 Teaspoons garam masala, or to taste

½ Teaspoon smoke paprika, or to taste

¼ Teaspoon cayenne pepper, or to taste

½ Pound red lentils, about 1 cup

8 Cups vegetable broth

Salt and pepper

In a large stockpot, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Stir in the carrots, celery, onion, leeks, lemon and garlic, along with the cumin, cardamom, garam masala, smoked paprika and cayenne. Cook while stirring frequently until the vegetables are soft and the spices are aromatic, about 7-8 minutes.

Stir in the lentils and broth. Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to a gentle simmer and cover. Cook until the vegetables and lentils are tender, about 20 minutes. Remove from the heat and season with 2 teaspoons of salt and a scant teaspoon of pepper.

Using an immersion blender, puree the soup. Add additional broth or water if necessary to bring it to desired consistency. I don't puree this soup to a fine consistency; I leave it a little chewy so I can bite into all those vegetables. Taste and adjust the seasonings if needed. Garnish with a sprig of celery leaves or a generous pinch of thinly sliced scallion greens.

Makes about 3 quarts.

With all the Indian spices in this soup, I think a chilled Reisling is the best choice for wine.

Crab Bisque: An Unexpected Holiday Surprise

When my family visits for the holidays, I have to re-think all my usual menus because I am cooking for two kids who can be picky eaters, and two vegetarians. It's the kind of audience that can make your eyes glaze over.

I decided that hearty soups would play a starring role in our holiday meals, and that I would start with my go-to Corn Chowder recipe I posted in the fall. With rare foresight, I had stockpiled sweet, just-off-the-cob corn in the freezer so I already had the main ingredient. To up the heartiness factor, I went to my favorite seafood vendor and purchased a few pounds of fresh Dungeness crab. Not only was the crab quite expensive, but I spent an hour cracking and picking the shells and claws to extract the meat. But the end result was worth it. My family loved the sweet corn and sweet crab combination, and even the diet-impaired devoured bowl after bowl.

I was about to discard the empty shells when I had a wiser, second thought. I stored the shells in the fridge and a few days later I made a luscious seafood stock. I wasn't sure exactly how I'd use the stock until certain factions of the family invited friends over for a post-New Year's dinner. Bryn contributed a wonderful chicken main course, Sonia created a sparkling green salad, and Doug made a batch of his popular candied pecans. I opted to make a crab bisque to serve as an amuse-bouche before dinner.

This is a two-step recipe, and I recommend making the stock a day or two before you want to make and serve the bisque. Since crabmeat is quite pricey these days, save this recipe for a special occasion.

Crab Bisque

For the Stock:
4-5 Cups crab shells
1/2 Cup dry white wine
1 Large yellow onion, chopped
1 Carrot, chopped
1 Celery stalk, chopped
2 Tablespoons tomato paste
2-3 Sprigs of thyme
3-4 Sprigs of parsley
1 Bay leaf
10-12 Whole peppercorns
2 Teaspoons of salt

Break up the crab shells by putting them in a plastic bag and using a rolling pin to crush them. Spread the shell pieces in a single layer on a baking sheet and put in a hot oven for about 15 minutes to toast. This really brings out the flavor. Remove and put it a large stock pot and cover with about an inch of water. Bring just to a simmer over medium high heat, but do not boil and do not stir. If foam forms on the surface of the water, just skim off with a slotted spoon. Cook like this for an hour, never stirring.

Male a bouquet garni with the thyme, parsley, bay leaf and peppercorns and add to the pot along with the wine, vegetables, tomato paste and salt. Simmer another 30 minutes, then remove from heat. Let the stock cool a bit before straining through a cheesecloth-lined strainer into a clean pot. Discard the solids. This will make 2-3 quarts. Freeze if you aren't using it within a few days, reserving 1 quart for the crab bisque.

For the Bisque:
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter
1/3 Cup shallots, chopped
3/4 Cup white wine
1 Quart of seafood stock
1/4 Cup white rice
2 Tablespoons tomato paste
1 Pound cooked crabmeat
1 Cup heavy cream
1/4 Cup port
1/2 Teaspoon salt
1/8 Teaspoon white pepper

In a large pot, melt the butter over medium heat, add the shallots and cook gently until they are transparent, about 5 minutes. Add the wine, stock, rice and tomato paste. Bring to a simmer and continue to simmer until the rice is completely cooked, about 30 minutes. Remove from the heat and cool a bit. Add most of the crabmeat to the soup, reserving some nice whole pieces for garnish.

Working in batches, ladle the soup into a blender and puree until very smooth. Return the pureed soup to the pot. Add the cream and port, then season to taste.

I served the bisque before dinner in the living room in espresso demitasse cups to universal acclaim. Everyone asked for seconds, although the bisque is very rich and filling. I am disgusted I did not take any pictures for this success story, but I have witnesses.