Category Archives: soup

Ginger Turmeric Carrot Soup

 

When I was a little girl, happily engrossed in a snack, chomping on a fistful of carrot sticks, grownups (especially grandparents) used to chuckle and nod in appreciation.

They were tickled pink that I loved those orange roots so much.

“Just like Bugs Bunny, Lynnie, you love them carrots.”

They’d chuckle among themselves, scratch their chins in that thoughtful, elderly way and proclaim, “Carrots, little Lynnie, are not only good for ya, but they’ll put a curl in your hair.”

Curls and carrots were a good thing. Still are. I’ve got a head full of curly strands and in my garden grows some of the least straight, most angled and wayward, thwarted and stopped-up roots ever grown in these parts.

IMG_2302But that hasn’t stopped my love affair with this root.

They were the first veg I fed my babies.  I’d peel dozens of those orange wands, chop them into coins and toss them into a steamer basket. Once tender to the fork, I’d whirl them in my trusty food processor, adding just enough of the cooking liquid to create a fresh, real carrot puree bound for the mouths of my babes.

I remember the bright orange stains on their bibs and the way they’d open their tiny mouths like hungry baby birds.  Absolute delight welled up in this maternal heart as I fed such pure, nourishing orangeness on a little, plastic-coated baby spoon to my happy little charges.

IMG_0220Carrot soup is not that far a leap from baby food.

It’s a pure puree meant for adult tastes including complex flavours that hop around the carrots, not unlike Bugs, but with more flavour than a cartoon can ever conjure. Ginger, a fellow root, pairs so sublimely with carrots, cutting a little of the sweetness and giving it a sideways spike. Turmeric, that currently trendy Asian rhizome that is popping up in lattes and milky teas,  deepens a carrot’s  orange into a golden crimson, while leaving yellowed tattoos on your fingers when freshly grated.

But the real kicker is in the stock — the foundational rock of any soup.  My cheat for any soup that stars vegetables-only is a super-slow-cooked chicken stock.  It adds a magical velvet to the soup’s texture while leaving a sparkling, golden sheen on the surface.

I know vegetarians and vegans will simply bypass that remark and enjoy this soup just as much, if not more, without the poultry.  I won’t even wonder what Looney Tunes could chime in with —  but I bet it would make this elder chuckle.

 

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Ginger Turmeric Carrot Soup

If your freezer isn’t full of homemade stock, bouillon cubes will suffice. Taste the results before adding salt to the soup as most cubes are sky-high in sodium.

2 tbsp coconut oil

1 red onion, chopped

2 inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated

2-inch piece fresh turmeric, peeled and finely grated/ 1 tsp turmeric powder

5 cups (10-12 medium)  carrots, chopped

6 cups defatted, homemade chicken stock

1 cup coconut milk

4 kaffir lime leaves (or 2 bay leaves)

1 ½ tsp salt

Freshly ground pepper

Freshly ground nutmeg

Fresh lime wedges

Freshly chopped coriander and/or mint

Heat coconut oil in a large pot on medium high.  Add onion, ginger and turmeric cooking 3-5 min or until soft and fragrant.  Add carrots, stock, coconut milk, lime or bay leaves, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer, cooking 15-20 min or until the carrots are tender soft.  Remove the lime or bay leaves and purée the hot soup with a hand-held immersion blender. Taste before seasoning with salt and pepper. Garnish with freshly ground nutmeg, lime juice, a dollop of yogurt or freshly chopped coriander and mint leaves.

And the beet goes on

Every January, fresh vegetables finally get the attention they deserve. My beet buddies, whether they have billowing green leaves, long tapered roots or roly-poly bodies, are finally  back in vogue! All it took was the excess of the holidays to help nudge all those colours and shapes back into the healthy eating spotlight.IMG_9401 copyWhile I don’t like to play favourites, beets make me particularly happy, appealing not just to my palate, but my parsimonious nature. Where else do you get two vegetables for the price of one?

But the redness factor in beets – both in the roots and the greens – can distract. Not everyone can abide by the faint red juice that accompanies a sauté of beet greens and garlic. And even I, vegetable lover that I am, almost fainted when presented with a crimson bowl of borscht at the age of 13 while visiting the home of a classmate. Barely over the shock of my girlfriend’s father wearing an apron and cooking the soup from scratch, I followed her serving suggestion and placed a dollop of sour cream in the middle of what looked like a pool of blood. When I swirled the two together, I had visions of Pepto-Bismol and wondered if anyone would notice if my soup went stealthfully, spoon by spoon, into the African violet on the ledge behind me?

IMG_9546My children, now in their 20s, still won’t go near a beet. Who cares?! I’m tickled to reap more of my share of beet rewards. Besides, these babies take time. To roast, simply wrap unpeeled, individual beets in foil and bake at 350 F  for an hour or until tender. Or boil unpeeled roots in salted water for 45 min (or until a knife slips through the flesh with no resistance). Once cooled in an ice-bath, a beet’s skin slips off effortlessly.

There’s a reason you’ll find vacuum-packed, cooked beets sold in most European markets and in some upscale Toronto ones, too. Once cooked, you can slice them into a zillion different salad combinations.

But if time is of the essence, peel a raw beet and pull out the box-grater. Shredded (or even spiralized) raw beets are a delicious addition to salads or can be sautéed in olive oil with seasonings such as ginger, shallots, garlic or lemon zest.

Citrus is a fine companion for beets both visually and texturally. Think finely sliced grapefruit rounds stacked with cooked, sliced beets bathed in a piquant dressing with chives.IMG_9412

Another winner is goat cheese. Try roasting peeled beet wedges, cippolline onions and whole garlic cloves in olive oil and salt at 400 F for 45 min. Toss warm with goat cheese, arugula and torn basil, dress with olive oil and a small splash of sherry vinegar and serve to your best, beet-loving friends – year round.

© 2016 Madeleine Greey

Beet and Cabbage Borscht

This soup feeds an army.  I like to serve it fresh (ideally the day after, since the flavours intensify) and freeze the rest. A dollop of dairy such as sour cream or plain Greek yogurt, sprinkled with chives or chopped green onions and chili flakes is an irresistible garnish.

  • 2- 4 tbsp olive oil
  • 2 leeks
  • 1 onion
  • 3 stalks celery
  • 6  red beets, peeled and diced into ½ inch cube
  • ½ small green cabbage, sliced
  • ½ small red cabbage, sliced
  • 2 fresh bay leaves
  • 8 cups vegetable stock
  • 8 -10 leaves Tuscan kale, stem removed and thinly sliced
  • 1 small can (400 ml/17 oz) of cherry tomatoes and juice
  • 2  garlic cloves, pressed or finely grated with a rasp
  • 1 tsp smoked hot paprika
  • Salt (1-2 tsp)
  • Pepper
  • ¼ cup red vinegar

Heat oil in a large soup pot and sauté leeks, onion and celery with a sprinkling of salt until soft and fragrant.  Add diced beets, sliced cabbage, bay leaves, stock, cherry tomatoes and Tuscan kale.  Bring to a gentle simmer and season with finely grated garlic, paprika, salt and pepper.  Simmer gently for 45 min to 1 hr. Finish with vinegar.     © 2016 Madeleine Greey

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Beet and cabbage borscht

Let’s talk about stock

When I taught cooking, I always asked my students who made stock.  Everyone just laughed. No one has time for something as archaic as that.

Problem is, without homemade stock, cooking suffers. It wimps out. It lacks foundation and flounders. Food made with that imposter, commercial so-called stock (sorry Knorr) tastes completely mediocre or as the Chinese say mama huhu.

Who wants mama huhu cooking when every mouthful has the potential to sing out with flavour?  What’s the use of boring risotto or lackluster soup?

There’s no excuse!  Homemade stock is a must-do and a must-have.  All you need is a bunch of bones, a big stockpot and time to let it simmer.

That’s why I was so happy when shopping at Whitehouse Meats at the St. Lawrence Market this weekend. I asked for some chicken bones and was given two bulging bags of frozen chicken bones gratis.

“We give them away,” said the sales person. “All you have to do is ask for them when you’re making a purchase.”

While Whitehouse specializes in a lot of exotica – from elk to ostrich to de-boned quail – they don’t carry chicken feet.  I had to go to Fu Yao Supermarket on Gerrard St. (near Broadview) for those.  Besides, who wants to miss the experience of reaching into a smelly bin with a plastic bag over your hand and grabbing a few pounds of feet: they’re slippery and leathery at the same time, with lots of wayward appendages. Fun.

You don’t need a recipe for stock.  This is what you do:

  1. Rinse the bones. (Sometimes they’re bloody. Enough said.) You’ll need at least 4 lbs of chicken bones and/or chicken feet to fill a large stockpot.
  2. Fill with enough water to cover the bones and turn the heat to high.
  3. As soon as you see the first bubble, crank the heat down to low. The goal is to simmer, not bubble like mad. Boiling stirs things up and creates a cloudy, messy stock.  We don’t want that.
  4. Once the simmer begins, slime starts to surface.  Skim it all away. I like to spoon it out and place it in a fine-mesh sieve over a bowl. I return the liquid that collects in the bowl back to the stock.
  5. Add flavour. I add 3-4 quarter-size pieces of peeled ginger, 3 whole crushed garlic, a cooking onion sliced in half, 2-3 stalks of celery (count yourself lucky if you have celery leaves, they add great flavour) and 2 green onions, chopped into thirds.
  6. I cook it covered, on the lowest of lows for 3-6 hours.
  7. Strain the bones from the liquid and once it has cooled, transfer to freezer containers (I like to use yogurt containers, which hold about 3 cups).
  8. Refrigerate overnight. Skim off the fat. Freeze.