Delicious UK – (01)January 2021

food for thought.

W

hen it’s cold

outside; when

it’s cold inside;

when you’re heartbroken, in a

hurry, sad, irritated, feeling frugal

• nothing puts you in a better
  place than soup. Equally,
  if you’re happy, relaxed or
  feeling extravagant, it reflects
  your mood perfectly.
  Good soup is the most
  supremely comforting thing you
  can put in a bowl. Conversely, bad
  soups – like bad risottos – just
  get on your nerves with their
  sameness, every identical spoonful
  whittled away as though the key
  to some greater treasure lay at the
  bottom of the dish. I recently had
  a perfectly fine fish soup, but after
  three or four mouthfuls I had
  enjoyed its charms enough and
  it simply became a vehicle for
  croutons and rouille. (Because it’s
  apparently rude just to shove these
  into your mouth on their own.)
  I don’t think there’s a week of
  my adult life when I haven’t made
  soup of some kind – often the day
  before The Big Shop, when I want
  to use up ends of bacon, bits of
  cheese, leftover roast chicken,
  slightly tired vegetables, wilting
  herbs. This is the part where I’m
  supposed to say the success of your
  soup depends on the sparkling
  freshness of its ingredients, but
  in my experience, soup provides
  a soft place to land for the slightly
  tired, including me.
  I’m going to give you my
  infinitely flexible and adaptable
  soup blueprint, honed over many
  thrifty years of trying to clean
  out the fridge.

A SEASON FOR EVERYTHING

As with so many good things,

start with gently sautéeing onions.

Add a bay leaf and/or some thyme

sprigs if you have them, and a good

pinch of salt. Something I learned

from working with chefs is never

to miss a chance to add seasoning.

If you just add salt at the end, you

never give a dish the chance to

develop depth and complexity. So

add salt now and add salt

often, I say.

When the onions are

properly softened and

translucent – don’t rush

this stage, it takes at least

15 minutes – add any

other hard vegetables you

want. Carrots and celery,

naturally, which always

worktheir mirepoix magic, but

celeriac, parsnips and potatoes

are all good too. Sauté them gently

for about five minutes, then add

garlic if you’re using it (if you add

it too soon, it can scorch and your

soup will taste irredeemably of

bitter heartbreak).

Next the stock. Of course,

homemade stock... (blah, blah

blah). But I’ve made many delicious

soups from stock cubes, although I

dilute them more than it says on the

pack. We’re here to get the job done,

use up the contents of the fridge

and move on with our lives, right?

When the stock is simmering,

and if I’m making the sort of thing

that might be a meal in its own

right, I add the muscle of the soup:

shredded cooked meat, cooked

chickpeas or other pulses, barley,

lentils, pasta. This is the sort of

soup that, once consumed, can

make you feel like you could

successfully go outside and chop

firewood all day. I might add a tin

of tomatoes or some passata, or

I might not. Towards the end, I add

any soft leaves, such as spinach or

even slightly wilted lettuce, and

tender herbs such as parsley,

tarragon, chervil or coriander. And

I season. Don’t forget to season.

At this point, I sometimes take

a cupful of the soup and blend it

before tipping it back in to create

a creamy texture. Or I might just

add a slug of cream (or, more

usually, crème fraîche) to give it

a more rounded smoothness.

I need to say something about

acid. Most soups are improved,

their flavours made brighter and

more distinct, by the addition of a

dash of a livener such as vinegar –

it can be red/white wine or cider

vinegar – or a squeeze of lemon

juice towards the end.

NOT SUCH A SMOOTH OPERATOR

What I’ve described here is the sort

of chunky soup I make all the

time. Those gorgeous, velvety,

one-main-ingredient soups are

another matter entirely. A few

years ago, I was asked to try out

a Vitamix, the posh blender that

purées as it heats as it works some

kind of miracle, transforming base

cauliflower, celeriac, tomatoes –

whatever you put into it – into

luscious gold. For a while, in

the first flush of infatuation,

everything got this treatment.

Then I realised I was eating like

an aged dowager who had lost her

teeth.SowhileI stilllovethese

soupsnowandagain,foreveryday

I tend towards something with

a bit more bite.

And then there’s the finishing,

which can elevate a simple soup

to greater heights. Just a trickle of

very good olive oil, a spoonful

of cream,a gratingofcheeseor

a scatteringofsoftherbswilldo,

butalsoconsidera dollopofpesto,

a swirlofherbbutter,jagged

homemadecroutons,evencubes

of sautéedsalamiorbacon.And

yes,ontherightday,withtheright

soup,someshavedtrufflesor

a sprinklingofcaviaris sublime.

I’mhopingthatthosetruffles-and-

caviar-with-everythingdayswill

returnforusallsoon,butinthe

meantime,wewillalwayshave

use-it-all-upsoup,every

spoonfula delight.

My infinitely flexible soup

blueprint has been honed over

many thrifty years of trying

to clean out the fridge

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ILLUSTRATIONS: ISTOCK/GETTY IMAGES