Volume 122 >> Issue 48 : Friday, October 18, 2002

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EAT THIS

The Tao

of Soup

How to Make a Gourmet Pot of Soup

Staff Writer

This is the first in a series of columns dedicated to bringing the pleasures of good eating to a table (or Athena cluster) near you. Along with a smattering of reviews, there will be some gastronomic exploration of Boston- and Cambridge-area neighborhoods; experiments in cooking, eating, and drinking; and sundry other food-related tidbits. While the author would like this column to serve the broadest possible public, this space will, at times, better service those equipped with cooking facilities or those without an aversion to food that, at one time, had a face. Bottom-line: You eat every day. Why not enjoy every bite?

It’s that time of year again. Time to break out the down parka and put away the board shorts. The leaves are just about to turn, offering their annual brilliant fall finery. And the equally dazzling constellation of heirloom tomatoes on display in the produce section is quickly dwindling down to piles of bland and insipid imported beefsteaks. (But I guess if you’re stuck with Star Market, that’s pretty much all you’ve ever had to work with anyway.)

This time is when the sun becomes more elusive and the wind more bullying; the last traces of your summer tan disappear altogether, leaving you looking as if you’re a 6.111 student. Whether you’re trying to chase off a premature winter chill or the inevitable sniffles, there’s nothing better now than a big bowl of steaming hot soup. And really, there’s nothing easier -- and more satisfying -- to make yourself.

“But,” you might protest, “who has the time? Who has the pots and the patience?” Relax. The total time commitment on your part here is minimal -- maybe thirty minutes, max. The soup takes care of itself after that, though you should remember that it will be best eaten after an hour or two of simmering on the stove. You just need to prepare a little ahead of time, which might require a trip to the grocery store.

Soup is really nothing more than a flavored liquid. There are many cooks who insist on using stock as the flavoring agent, but there’s really no need to go through the lengthy process of making (and reducing and then reducing again) stock.

The Skinny on Stocks

Stock is, however, a very fundamental part of cooking (especially the kind systematized and set forth by this French guy, Escoffier, about a century ago in his Le Guide Culinaire). Stocks are made by simmering meaty bones and vegetables in a liquid to draw out all the flavor and nutrients. The enhanced liquid is then used to make everything from sauces to braises to stews and is especially excellent as a cooking medium. It’s no surprise, then, that stocks are known as the fonds de cuisine (foundations of cooking).

The problem with stocks lies in the time-consuming processes of defatting and straining and constantly monitoring the liquid to make sure it doesn’t come to a rolling boil, as that can very well ruin the flavor of the stock and anything you subsequently make from the stock.

In any case, we can skip the stock and instead apply the principles of stock preparation to soups, minus all the fuss.

Making Soup from Stratch

As with stock, you’ll need bones for your soup, and these can be found in any butchershop or sizeable meat department. I personally prefer to use pork neckbones, but beef marrow bones and oxtail seem more readily available locally. All have a little bit of meat that will lend the resulting soup a richer, more robust flavor. About two baseball-sized portions will suffice and will last a good week in the refrigerator. And they’ll be cheap, to boot.

I try to keep a supply of carrots, celery stalks, and onions around, as they’re useful for flavoring all kinds of dishes, especially soups. You’ll need about one or two of each for the soup. Salt and pepper are also key, and I prefer to use kosher or sea salt (I’ll explain why in a future column).

You’ll also need a vessel in which you can boil water -- preferably a pot that holds at least two or three quarts. The vessel should have a lid, but a large plate can serve the same purpose. Just be careful about handling a hot plate and avoid the escaping steam.

It would also be helpful at this point to have a knife, and ideal to have a sharp chef’s knife. But in a pinch, a pocket knife might work. Or if you’re completely lacking, you can try just tearing the vegetables up with your hands, as long as you’re not particularly concerned with the appearance of the end result.

Now, submerge the bones in the pot with water and bring to a boil. Covering the pot will speed this up considerably. While you wait, peel and cut up your carrots, celery, and onion. I prefer mine chunky, but size and shape are of little importance. It is, however, good to develop a habit of cutting all your vegetables the same size, as they’ll cook more uniformly that way. Since you’re cooking the vegetables for a while, it won’t matter much here.

Discard the liquid once it comes to a boil. Cover the bones again with clean water, and set on medium-low heat, or enough heat to bring the liquid to a simmer or lazy boil. Toss in four cloves of unpeeled garlic and all your cut up vegetables. Replace the lid and do laundry or problem sets for at least a half hour. I like to check on my soup every once in a while, just to see how it’s coming along, and I also add my salt and pepper gradually, tasting along the way. I find that I usually need more salt than I think (maybe two or three tablespoons). And if you accidentally oversalt, just add more water.

The soup is done when the vegetables have softened and, well, when it tastes done. If you have leftovers, you’ll undoubtedly discover that it tastes even better the next day.

If you used marrow bones, you’ll find that all that cooking has yielded a delectable, creamy mass from what used to be the dark, spongy center of the bone. This would be the marrow -- one of the most delectable morsels that ol’ Bessie has to offer -- and the whole point of osso buco, if you ask me.

Oh, and if you’re like me and have difficulty following directions, you might also throw in a generous pinch of thyme. Or a cup of lentils. Or cannellini beans. Or garbanzo beans. All these legumes need to be soaked overnight if procured dry; they can go right in if they’re canned. A cut-up tomato adds complexity and body; the acidity cuts through some of the sweetness of the onions and carrots. I’ve also had success with spinach, kale, and swiss chard (two big handfuls’ worth). Cauliflower and potatoes would also be great additions. Of course, feel free to chuck in anything you fancy; it’s nearly impossible to screw up this soup.

If you really can’t be bothered, you can start with some ready-made chicken or vegetable broth and add the vegetables and other bits, but it’s definitely not as fun as making it all yourself. And, if you can’t handle that, I’d go with either the cheap and tasty chicken and corn soup from Qwan’s Kitchen or the peerless butternut squash soup at Salts.

Comments and queries are most welcome, whether you need a restaurant suggestion or the name of a good fish purveyor or just want to know what osso buco is. Drop me a line at <winnie@thatswhatyouthink.com>.