Roasted pumpkin and tomato soup

 

Recipe: Roasted pumpkin and tomato soup

This soup has been in high rotation this winter and each time I love it just a little more! It was inspired by Stephanie Alexander’s latest cookbook Home. I’ve simplified the method but roasting the vegetables is non-negotiable, as it’s what gives this soup its rich umami flavour.

 

Roasted pumpkin and tomato soup

1 kg pumpkin, peeled and cut into 6 cm chunks
1 small potato, peeled and halved (optional, to thicken the soup)
1 onion, peeled and thickly sliced
4 medium-large ripe tomatoes, halved
6 cloves of garlic, unpeeled
1.5 litres vegetable stock (I prefer homemade or Marigold bouillon powder)
1 – 2 tsp smoked paprika
1/3 cup olive oil
Sprig of rosemary (optional)
Sea salt and pepper to taste
Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Heat the oven to 220c (200c fan-forced).

Cut the pumpkin, potato and onion as directed above. Toss in a bowl with olive oil, herbs, garlic and a pinch of salt. When covered in oil, lay out in a single layer in your baking dish. Ideally use a large baking dish big enough to fit all the vegetables without overcrowding, that’s safe to use on the stove top, if it’s not big enough, use two.

Roast vegetables for 40 minutes, give the tray a shake and stir halfway through this time. It’s ok for the vegetable to get crisp and a little scorched (but not burnt) as this deepens the flavour.

Remove from the oven and throw away the rosemary stem. Take out the tomatoes and discard the skins. Do the same with the garlic. Both should be easy to slip off when cooked. Add these along with the rest of the vegetables to a large pot.

Place the baking dish, with the delicious stuck-on goodies, on the stove top on medium heat.  Add a cup or two of your stock and stir with a wooden spoon to deglaze the pan. Once the bits have come away from the pan, pour the deglazing liquid into your pot with the vegetable. Add the remaining stock and whizz with a hand blender until smooth. Alternatively you can use a blender or food processer.

Put the pot on the heat and bring to a simmer. Taste before adding salt and pepper. If using a commercial stock it mightn’t need much. If the soup is thicker than you’d like add more stock. If a bit thin, just simmer on a low heat til you have your desired consistency.

 

Jerusalem artichoke soup

I used to avoid buying these odd-looking tubers because I didn’t know what to do with them. But they are a versatile winter vegetable that can be roasted, blended or, if particularly fresh, thinly sliced and eaten raw.

Neither an artichoke nor from the Middle East, this vegetable has a distinctive, though relatively mild flavour that is perfect for a winter soup. Despite being a low-starch vegetable, when blended the soup has a luscious creamy consistency.

Naturally creamy, vegan Jerusalem artichoke soup recipe.


All new recipes are on my naturopathy website, check out the resources section for my recipe archive.

Tomato and quinoa soup

Quinoa is a versatile grain (that's really a seed). It’s light enough to add body and protein to a soup without making it stodgy. A little goes a long way, so only add more if you’d prefer a stew rather than soup.

This seedy-grain comes in different colours, but they all taste pretty much the same. Always rinse quinoa well before using.

Tomato & quinoa soup recipe.

All new recipes are on my naturopathy website, check out the resources section for my recipe archive.

Nettle, sorrel and mushroom soup

As a milestone birthday looms I’ve been reflecting on my life. Quite distinct from nostalgia, it’s more akin to curating a body of work, acknowledging the themes and reappraising lessons.

This process of review is even invading my cooking. There’s been no new discoveries, just old recipes revisited and reworked. Why toss out a recipe for being old school when it can be upcycled with a twist of ingredients?

For example I’ve crossed muffins with carnival cookies to make a vegan chocolate and cherry mini-muffin scented with mixed spice. This weekend saw a hybrid version of rice balls and soy bombs, flecked with seaweed. (I’ll blog the recipes later if you want them).

The nettle soup has evolved over the last few winters. A smaller crop this yet sent me searching for something in the garden to pad it out and sorrel fit the bill so perfectly, I don’t know why I never tried it before. If you’ve got neither, substitute another green like broccoli for a more than passable soup and add a squeeze of lemon before serving to recreate the citrus zing.

Nettle, sorrel and mushroom soup

1-2 tablespoons olive oil


1 medium onion, diced


2 cloves garlic, crushed


1 large potato, peeled and diced


1 (gloved) handful, nettles

1 handful, sorrel

150 grams mushrooms, sliced


1 litre good quality vegetable stock


Sea salt


Black pepper

Prep the vegetables. If using greens from the garden wash well and inspect for snails (they seem to love my sorrel). In a large, heavy based saucepan heat the olive oil and sauté the onions until translucent. Toss in the garlic and stir for a minute or two, then add the potatoes. Next add the mushrooms and let them sweat a little. Lastly throw in the nettles and sorrel, allowing the greens to wilt before covering with vegetable stock. Top up with water if necessary.

Turn the heat down so the soup can gently simmer for about 20 minutes. Remember to stir every now and then and check there is enough water. When the potatoes are soft, blend with a stick blender. I like a little texture in the soup, rather than homogeneously smooth. Return to the pot to reheat and season as desired with salt and pepper.

quick update from the trenches

There’s been some cooking

Accidental sorrel soup.

How to turn an average end-of-the-week-leftover-veggie soup into a stellar meal? Just add a handful of sorrel and blend. The base combo of alliums/cauliflower/zucchini/potato simmered in stock got the zing it needed when blended with the lemony green herb. A little goes a long way.

Oranges are not the only fruit.

But certainly the most abundant one in our house at the moment due to the arrival of two boxes of home-grown citrus. A batch of orange and spice vegan truffles were scoffed with alarming speed and with zest added to every conceivable dish, the fridge is full of lemons and oranges devested of their skin. As always, there’s large batch of preserved lemons on the go.

Quinoa for breakfast and dinner.

Cooked in orange and ginger juice. A superb breakfast that can be dolled up with a drizzle of maple syrup and some toasted almonds for a deceptively healthy dessert.

Speaking of dessert.

You know I’m not the queen of cooked desserts, right? But my oh my, I had a brilliant idea and minutes later dessert gyozas were on the table. I’d call them a work in progress but really they’re so simple they don’t need work. Three batches down I can’t stop long enough to photograph them before they’re gone. Will share soon, blogging mojo willing.

What’s rocking your kitchen?

simple

The past month has been about:

Stir fries…tofu, tempeh or egg as protein plus finely sliced, julienned or half mooned vegetables. Rice noodles always a favourite. Tamari, kecap manis and fish sauce on rotation as flavouring.

Soups…easy red lentil served with fish sauce, chilli and a squeeze of lime juice.

Fish fillets cooked the way I was taught at primary school…fresh gurnard in a foil parcel with slices of lemon, salt, pepper and nothing else. Cooked at 175c for 11 minutes. I’d forgotten how good it tastes.

Autumn fruits…feijoas, tamarillos and persimmons.

Out…not often but well chosen..an intimate dinner at The Commoner (the most amazing mushroom coated version of a scotch egg, not on the menu but offered as a vegetarian option)…two vegan burgers to choose from at the Tramways plus the best hand cut chips.

Purchased…a beautiful, large ceramic bowl from a local potter. Big enough to fit a swag of fruit.



Nothing fancy. Just keeping calm and carrying on.

sunshine and soup

It's been an unexpectedly roller coaster-ish kind of week. There was an impromptu lunch at the pub with a glass of bubbly to toast a landmark moment in Australian politics, a last minute dinner with an old friend visiting from interstate and emergency coffee and popcorn making for a friend and her family going through a tough time. The winter solstice had encouraged me to hibernate while the Significant Eater was away but the universe seemed to have other ideas.

The weather has been bone chillingly damp and on Thursday I wasn't sure what excited me more, a new Prime Minister who reflects my demographic or the fact the sun shone long enough to get two loads of washing dried on the line.

Today the light returned, briefly. I donned my sunnies and checked out the Farmers' Market at the Showgrounds. A bit sparse at this time of year but between the two organic stores I managed to stock up on some extra fruit and vegetables. The cavalo nero looked stunning and was robust enough to survive a morning in the car while I wandered around the North Melbourne market full of lovely handmade goods. I loved the venue, the Lithuanian Club in Errol Street, so was pleased to have an excuse to explore some of the spaces in the building.

Home again, I was determined to do a little cooking before I ran out of steam. I got the rhubarb simmering on the stove and had another tweak at the cordial recipe (this time rhubarb, lemon and rose water) and a go at Jeroxie's nettle and mushroom soup. We've managed to weed the nettles in the garden to a manageable patch this year and I'm determined to trim back the tops to use while they are still young and tender. I've added freshly ground nutmeg and lashings of pepper and the soup smells wonderful. Can't wait for dinnertime.






Hope you got some time to play in the sun today too.

quickie - real food

Not AWOL just busy. Fingers required to type words, lots of them. I have been cooking. Simple things. Delightful things. Here’s part of the week or two that was, in food.

1. Soup under Lucy’s guidance. How nice when a friend says “I can’t come for dinner tonight but I can help you cook instead”. The SE and I have been having this informal winter thing. Friends that are in the neighbourhood on certain chilly evenings have been assured a glass of wine or some warming chai, dips, nibbles and a hearty bowl of soup. If they stay long enough the SE mother’s solstice cake comes out. Friends, wine and food. A random assortment each time. What could be better?

Lucy’s soup involved onion, garlic, coriander, cumin, little green (puy) lentils, and ribbons of cavolo nero. Finished of with fresh coriander and a squeeze of lemon – it was a winner.

2. Baked vegetables. Not rocket science, just comforting, especially when they go all crispy. Potatoes are mandatory; I like them cut quite small so there is maximum crunchiness. Depending on what is in the house there has been some sweet potatoes, pumpkin, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts – all roasted after a toss with olive oil, salt and pepper. A little fresh rosemary if its not raining (because as nice as the herb is, even a short dash to the garden in the cold and wet is no fun).

3. Pasta of the month (or two) is onion, garlic and masses of cavolo nero, we just can’t get enough of this wintry green. Often with tuna, sometimes preserved lemon and olives. Stirred through gluten-free pasta and we’ve happy campers indeed.

4. More marinated tofu and salad (yes the SE been eating meat again).

5. Vegetable tagine/tajine in the real thing – the vessel itself soaked for 24 hours, dried for another hour, oiled then in a very slow oven. A slow bake. Onion, leek, fennel and Japanese eggplants are my favourite base, flavoured with lashings of homemade harissa. Pumpkin and chickpeas replaced the fish from my earlier endeavours. The drizzle of tahini when serving makes all the difference.

6. Brown rice. With tagines and curries. The latter made from Sri Lankan spice powder, added garam marsala, extra chillies and garlic. Lots of tamarind water for tang. Vegetables – something green and leafy, potato and chickpeas.

No photos, no recipes, just food. Hope this inspires a vegetarian twist in your menu this week.

being in the moment

Maybe it was my sister's undoing. She phoned an hour ago as I was contemplating making fish pie for dinner. A few minutes into our chat said, "You sound tired".

Until that moment I'd felt fine, then as if by magic the word inhabited me and I was filled with a gnawing sense of fatigue.

There are numerous incomplete blogposts demanding attention but instead you will get this, a moment of sunshine in the kitchen this morning.



Soup made from a base of last seasons homegrown tomatoes, roasted with garlic then pureed and frozen.
Finely diced carrots, parnsips, some slices of onion and fennel, a can a white beans.
Simple stuff.
A pot of hot soup shared with friends on a dim autumn day.
This is what matters

Taking a moment in a busy morning to snap a few photos.
Watching how a glass of water plays with the light.
Becoming entranced by butter smears on a knife.
Little things that bring a sense of calm and wonder.

These things matter to me more than writing a post about food right now.

simple #3

Am a bit of an empty vessel lately.



It’s not as if I cook extravagantly at the best of times. I like simple. So here is some more simple food in lieu of formal recipes.

Soup de jour: Mushroom – simply finely sliced onion, garlic, the best mushrooms I could find. Simmered in good vegetable stock (Marigold) and seasoned with black pepper, a dash of brandy and a knob of butter.

Leftovers: The SE made his signature dish, “Spicy Baked Fish with Vegetables”* from “The Essential Seafood Cookbook” (Murdock Books). The next night I combined some of the leftover spiced and roasted fish/potatoes/olives with a little beaten egg, shaped into patties, dredged in cornflour and then shallow fried. Fabulous. The wonderful spices and caramelised flavours stayed intact and the patties were studded with large chunks of salty olives.

Persimmons: My favourite seasonal fruit of the moment. Simply cut into segments, biting the flesh away from the skin.


* I’ve never posted the recipe as I’ve felt ownership belongs with the creator of the dish but have just discovered a large chunk of the book is previewed here at Google books, scroll down to page 292 in the second to last frame and you will find this stunning recipe. The trick is a very hot oven!

simple #2

It’s raining and windy. Not exactly cold but alluding to a wintry state. The stomach follows, desiring soup.

Food fit for those with a cold, time poor or hankering for warmth*.

Soup: Corn, onion, garlic, ginger, carrots and assorted greens. Simmered til soft in water. Chunks of white fish poached in the soup before serving. Then flavoured with miso and tamari. A few rice noodles to add ballast. Delicate and soothing.

The SE made what I would call a “boy’s soup”. What is it about some men and flavouring? Something akin to colour-blindness. An everything-but-the-kitchen-sink concoction, including Brussels sprouts, with the unusual addition of mixed spice. Don’t try this at home! My failure to appreciate did not bring good humour into the home.

Porridge: Oatmeal, call it what you will. This season’s combo is oats, leftover cooked brown rice if there is any about, and banana. After cooking I’ve added passionfruit, a dash of maple and soymilk.

Omelette: End of the week vegetables sautéed with onion and garlic, beaten egg and a few olives.

One pot or pan. Simple to make. Easy to digest.

Just hold the mixed spice and the sprouts!


* or all three in my case

Bittman’s anti-ramen

I’ve never been a pot noodle kind of girl.

There’s a newish Asian grocery store that opened in a subterranean storeroom, under the building next door to work. With little or no signage and towers of overcrowded shelving leaning over narrow isles, they’ve been having a tough time attracting customers since they opened last year. Yesterday’s hastily drawn sign on A4 paper promised a free pot noodle with every purchase over $10.

It’s that kind of place.

That might explain why I have only been there once. The oasis of fresh greens I’d hoped for turned out to be the domain of artificial colours and flavouring.

What I am a fan of is Mark Bittman. I don’t know where he has been all my life but the more I see of his work, the more I like him. But maybe this devotion is a touch narcissistic? He cooks in a way that I like to cook, not necessarily the ingredients but the style. But this guy is so much cleverer than me!

This week he posted a three minute video on how to make “noodles in a soy broth” or rather he showed the slaves to instant ramen that you can make your own, tastier version using simple ingredients, taking only a few minutes longer. Subtly he teaches the viewer to not be hung up on quantities for a dish like this, that most ingredients can be substituted and even slips in the basics flavour balance. Just by dumping vinegar, soy, chilli and ketchup into a pot of water – he demonstrates “complex saltiness”, sweetness, “body and fruitiness” to the novice cook.

The guy is brilliant, teaching the basics in a way that is not condescending. Later explaining how with a few added ingredients how you can transform this snack into a meal. If anyone is going to turn a nation of fast food addicts into accidental cooks, it is this guy.

My version of simple soupy noodles is miso in a large bowl, with some rice noodles. But Bittman knows something I never thought of, instant ramen kind of people don’t tend to have miso paste lying around, let alone a stash of fresh shitake mushrooms.

Just as many big-name chefs who write cookbooks forget that most homes don’t have buckets of veal stock on hand or likely any homemade stocks at that, to get people cooking we have to show them how to crawl before they can walk.

Bittman is sheer genius, deconstruct instant noodles, throw in an ingredient that almost every American home would have and there you go, instant chefs.

on cooking with love

Life with the Significant Eater is relatively harmonious. There are only two reoccurring issues of contention. One involves what city we ultimately live in (we both love living in Melbourne, its just a bit more complicated than that) and the other is about cooking meat.

Though I am not a rabid member of PETA or a radical vegan, I just don’t like the smell of meat cooking. In fact, lamb now makes me feel as nauseas as the awful aroma of offal did as a child. We’d planned to get a barbecue to overcome part of the issue but a new one is not in our budget right now (hint: anyone got a decent one with a wok burner that they’d like to get rid of?). The house is tiny, the kitchen and the living room is one functional space. Sadly the double extractor fan over the stove has not lived up to the promises of the manufacturer and the smell of a stir fry or using the cast iron grill can last for days.

While he cooked himself a steak while I was away last, which is ok with me, I’m told it did stink the entire house out. He hasn’t raised the issue since. However with his lingering lurgy he made a plaintive plea for chicken soup to help his never ending cold.

On market day last week I began a labour of love. From the Chicken Pantry I got two chunks of chook still on the bone. All their fowl is raised the old fashioned way with no additives; I figure conventional chicken can’t be used for medicine. At home realising the function of the skinny curved knife that sits in the block is designed for boning I managed to easily fillet the flesh. The cats got the skin and a few trimmings and that made them very happy.

Into the pot went the meaty chicken bones, some celery, coriander roots and a knob of ginger. It simmered away happily for an hour or two, til I went out (to eat a delicious lunch at Cookie). Later it would be drained and any fat scooped off the top.

Home again and feeling rather merry, I assembled the soup, a chicken version of healing soup. It featured carrots, Chinese mushrooms (shitake and oyster), spring onion, chilli, garlic, coriander, ginger, a splash of fish sauce and I am sure, many other things. My memory is a little blurry. There was chicken of course, cut into generous slices. But the main ingredients were love and care. Really I know that sounds soppy but for me the ultimate act of devotion is to make something absolutely scrumptious for someone else that I cannot eat!

He ate two large bowls and seemed very happy.

He’s still got a cold though.

new/old fashioned pumpkin soup

On the weekend, post blog meet, I spent some time in Florence Nightingale mode. I sent the patient off to have a bath, remade the bed, plumped the pillows and provided warm, medicinal beverages. For breakfast there was porridge, slow cooked with sultanas and freshly ground nutmeg. Lunch was an omelette featuring bright yellow, organic eggs, vibrant green silverbeet and red tomatoes. By the time dinner came around I figured soup would be in order for the sick one. But what soup, there are so many to choose from?

For a cold, I figure there are two ways to go. I love healing soup rich with shitake mushrooms and ginger in a nice, clear broth but there was no fish stock or mushrooms at hand. Plan B is the orange route, where the road to good health is paved with beta-carotene to strengthen the immune system.

Chopping up the pumpkin on a cold Sunday night felt comfortingly familiar. With how many pumpkins, in how many houses had I performed this simple action? Pumpkins were not a key feature of my childhood and there was more chicken noodle soup out of a packet than the homemade vegetable variety. Pumpkin soup came into my life as a student in shared houses. It has gone through many phases since– roasting or simmering, simple flavours or bold, blended with a creamy substance or on its own – and seen me leave dairy foods far behind.

There is no hard and fast recipe but this one works really well.

When feeding a sick companion it is always nice to stir in some extra love and well wishes for a speedy recovery. After all, you hope they will get well soon and tackle the growing pile of dishes by the end of the week!

Pumpkin soup 101

(3-6 serves depending on appetite)

1 tab vegetable oil
1 medium onion
3 cm knob, ginger (this gives the soup zing, if you don’t like ginger then leave out but for me this is one of the joys of the meal)
2-3 cloves garlic
1 tsp red curry paste
1/2 stick of lemongrass, bruised
1/2 medium sized pumpkin (a Jap in this case but variety is up to you)
1 large white potato
1 large carrot
vegetable bouillon (hot vegetable stock)
coconut milk (optional)
salt

Get your favourite heavy bottomed pot onto the stove. For me it is my trusty cast iron number (the French one) that I have had for over 20 years. Bring to a low-medium heat and add the oil. The good thing about this soup is that it is blended, so the ingredients can be roughly chopped. Peel everything but you can go easy on the dicing.

Throw in the onions and ginger. Stir til the onions are becoming transparent then add the garlic, lemongrass and curry paste. One teaspoon of paste (I use Mae Ploy) is enough to give it a hint of warmth without dominating the flavour and making it a curried soup. Stir for another couple of minutes til the paste has released some of its aroma. Add the vegetables and coat well in the spices. Now cover with hot stock. The amount used depends on whether you prefer a thin or thick soup. I cover my vegetables with only a couple of centimetres of fluid. Simmer for at least 30 minutes. An hour if you really want. Stir from time to time and make sure the water hasn’t evaporated.

Remove the stick of lemongrass. You are welcome to put it back in once the soup is blended.

Take the soup off the heat, add a dash (only a tablespoon or two is needed) of coconut milk and use your trusty stick blender to give it a whirr. Be sensible. If the pot is really full take care so you don’t scald yourself with hot soup. Obviously you can let it cool or blend in batches in a food processor if you prefer.

Return to the heat and add salt if needed.

The artistes out there would garnish with a flourish of coconut milk, others might like to just let the flavours do the talking.

journeys with my thermos

With all this talk about lunch lately – I thought it was time to discuss essential gadgets for eating on the go. When it comes to food on the run, my one and only is the humble thermos flask.

You may have noticed that not a single recipe on the site uses the miraculous “kitchen TV”. I have not been taught to salivate, Pavlovian like, at the ping of at microwave. I don’t like what they do to the texture of food nor wish to trust my health to one for the sake of so-called convenience, let’s leave it at that.

So, enter the thermos. This simple device keeps food and drinks hot or cold. It means you can eat when you are out and about without a power source or any other equipment. It is the ultimate recyclable food or beverage container.

Here are a few notable uses of mine:

Thermos porridge: Think cooking oatmeal conventionally takes too long or is too messy to clean up? Try this simple recipe I got from a hippy book written in the 70’s.

Before going to bed, first warm your thermos with some boiling water for about 10 minutes. Take 1/2-1 cup whole rolled oats and twice as much boiling water (or boiling milk of some kind) and pour into a wide-mouthed thermos. You can add sultanas or dried cranberries if you like, a little cinnamon or nutmeg – whatever accoutrements suit your palate. Screw the lid on well. You can wrap it in a towel too if you want extra insulation if it is somewhere cold.

In the morning – wherever you are – simply pour out the contents (into the handy bowl/cup that sits on the top if you are away from home). Voila – porridge. A healthy, warm, sustaining breakfast of champions.

Soup in the snow: I used to go out with a snow bunny. I will be forever grateful for him taking me on my first trip to Lake Mountain. For a kiwi who’d only skied downhill before, cross country skiing amongst the gum trees, on a blue skied winter's day was one of the most beautiful experiences I have had in Australia. What made it even better was the trusty thermos.

The night before I made a pot of hearty bean and vegetable soup. Getting up at the crack of dawn, I heated the pot on the stovetop while I showered the sleep from my eyes and donned my thermal clothing. Once again I warmed the thermos, poured in the aromatic soup and headed off in the car a few hours out of Melbourne to the snow. I can assure you that after a morning of falling on my derriere, soup has never tasted so good! He did his part by carrying one of those blue thermal mats for us to sit on and we dined amongst the snow gums. The perfect winter picnic.

Some people have even be known to take soup to work for lunch.

Pre-theatre drinks: In the final days of the docks before it became an artificial city, some of the old buildings that once stored cargo were put to a good use as a venue for dance parties and theatre. One spring evening I caught the tram down to see a performance with a friend and sat on the edge of the old docks with a flask of perfectly cool cocktails – brandy, freshly squeezed orange juice and ice. Very pleasant and ultimately more memorable than the show.


The thermos was invented in 1892. I wonder if the microwave oven will be so widely used and loved 115 years on from it's inception?

Red lentils and pumpkins

With the weather see-sawing of late, the dip in the temperature gauge on the weekend created a perfect opportunity to make the last batch of soup for the season. With what was in the fridge I made a variation on the red lentil soup I’d cooked earlier in the year.



This variation: chunks of pumpkin, flavoured with onion, garlic, coriander root and cumin, with a stock made from organic bouillon. Red lentils thicken the soup perfectly without making it a heavy meal. A great trans-seasonal soup, regardless of what hemisphere you are living in.

a bowl of orange soup and a pinch of salt

With that wonderful fresh vegetable stock the first soup I made was inspired by what was in the cupboards at the end of the shopping week. All things orange seemed like a good idea to warm, yet another, chilly day.

As always, I followed no actual recipe and the quantities are up to you, depending on whether you want a small, medium or large size pot of soup.

Red Lentil Soup

vegetable oil
Cumin seeds
Fresh ginger
Garlic
Onion
Red lentils
Carrots
Sweet potato
Vegetable stock
Seasoning

Gently fry off the herbs and spices in a little oil (this time it was raw sesame but any light oil will do). Cook the onion til it is transparent then add the dry lentils. I used a cup or so for what ended up as 3/4 of a Le Creuset pot of soup. Throw in the chopped orange vegetables and give it all a stir before adding the stock. As the lentils really soak up the fluid, you need close to 3x the volume of stock to the other ingredients, depending on how thick or thin you like your soup. As this stock was homemeade and unsalted, I waited til just before serving to balance the seasoning*.

Simmer on low for 45-90 minutes. The lentils and sweet potato thicken up the soup, so it becomes a comforting, starchy vehicle for the flavours of the herbs and spices. Remember to stir frequently or you will end up with a crust on the bottom of the pot. Even better sit it on a heat diffuse mat as well.

*Salt is an amazing thing. I find using homemade stocks it is best to patiently sit with your pot of favourite salt and add about 1/2 a tsp a time, then stir and taste. Keep going til you taste the flavours of the soup open up. The trick is to find the spot just before it tastes overtly salty. For a whole treatise on salt check out Helen at Beyond Salmon for her thoughts on the subject.

The soup, of course, was delicious and tasted even better the next day.

PS: Photos returning soon!

wonton soup

Before my demise on the weekend, when a virus laid me horizontal for 3 days, I had been playing in the kitchen.

As I mused last Thursday I did end up making Ange’s wontons with flathead rather than prawns. The soup and the dumplings made a fabulous, warming and nutritious meal.

Wontonly Fishy Soup
the soup part
4 flathead fillets
a handful of fresh shitake mushrooms
1-2 spring onions
a knob of ginger
a little coriander root
1 small chilli
fish sauce, to taste

the wonton/dumpling part
very similar ingredients but use the flathead meat from above and substitute it for prawns with this recipe

First skin and bone the fillets. As the flesh will be mulched up in the food processor to make the wantons, it doesn’t matter how roughly you do it. I give the tips of the tails and skin to the cat – I have no choice really, she’s very persistent when it comes to fish!

Take the bones and any scraps and cover amply with cold water. Bring to the boil then simmer for about 15 minutes. I was privy to a conversation with one of Melbourne’s leading seafood chef’s a year or two ago who said to not to be afraid, you can simmer for much longer when making fish stock. So really, it’s up to you how long you cook them for. Strain to remove the bones and skim of the flotsam.

Now you have a very basic stock.

With your fish meat follow the wonton recipe. I used round gyoza wrappers, because that is one less additive without the yellow colouring! With a generous teaspoon of mixture in each wrapper I twisted the top to make money bag shapes and set aside wrapped in a damp tea towel.

The soup part is cunningly simple. Finely slice the herbs and vegetables and bring to a simmer in the broth. Add some fish sauce. A little goes a long way so put in a teaspoon or 2, then taste. It should be salty but not over powering. The combination of the fish sauce and the shitake mushrooms makes a delicious broth. If using dried shitakes add the soaking water to the pot.

When the soup comes to a boil, add the wontons and simmer for 5-7 minutes.

The little money bags full of spicy seafood plumped up while cooking and looked fantastic. With the wontons, it turned a delicate vegetable studded broth, into a hearty meal.

I have made a similar combination and instead of putting inside wrappers, just formed into balls. The fish ball soup version suits the carb nazis and is gluten-free. Rice noodles also work well with the balls.

Breakfast soup

This is the kind of morning I love. I awoke at an hour not too early, not too late. The house was chilly, but my bed was delightfully warm. There was a pleasant hour spent sipping coffee, doing a crossword, snuggling with the cat, talking on the phone to a friend in a warmer climate.

At this stage what would have made things more perfect could only have been my lover materialising (now I had had that wonderful, soul restoring, solo time) with some crisp pastries from Filou’s. Alas, despite a good 30 seconds trying to will this to happen, I realised breakfast today would be by my own hand - and I needed it now. Sadly the French bakery doesn’t deliver (“An apple slice and pain au chocolat to the spinster in number 12 please”) and I still was not ready to get dressed and take the 10 minute stroll required to satisfy the sweet gluten craving (and anyway, there was always the possibility of afternoon tea!).

A warming and decidedly healthier option came to mind. Soup for breakfast. Not just any soup, but the world’s best breakfast soup – miso.

To me, miso is good health in a bowl. The cultured bean, immune strengthening shitake mushrooms, beta carotene resplendent in carrots and carminative ginger. What’s more it is a very quick breakfast.

I make no claims to authenticity with this recipe. A true miso uses lovingly made dashi, certainly not a speedy process. The instant kind, which I suspect is used by far too many of this city’s Japanese restaurants, is spiked with msg and goodness knows what else. Instead I use the simplest of fish stock –the fiddley bones and scraps from flathead fillets simmered in water for 10-15 minutes. The stock is unadulterated with any seasoning, strained (through muslin if you are a purist and want to remove the sediment) and frozen til needed.

Miso Soup

Plain fish stock or water
a knob of ginger cut into fine, thin slivers
spring onion, diagonally sliced
carrot, thinly sliced
shitake mushroom (reconstituted dried, if fresh not available), thinly sliced
tofu, cubed

shiro miso paste
tamari

Place fresh fish stock in a pot (slowly thaw if using frozen). Add vegetables and tofu and bring to a simmer 5 minutes, or until carrots are tender.


gratuitous shot of the tiles and granite in the new kitchen. I put in lots of fresh shitake as I had been around a lot of sick people this weekend

Take some miso paste (about 1 tsp per serve) in a small bowl (or suribachi if you have one) and ladle in some of the warm broth. Mix until the paste has dissolved. Now turn the heat off and pour the liquefied paste back into the pot. Stir. You should see moving clouds bubbling around, one of the joys of using cultured foods. But remember miso is a delicate being, never boil it and if you need to reheat the soup do it gently, with the greatest respect.

As I have switched in recent years from the bold hatcho miso, to the young, sweeter shiro, I add a little tamari to get some balance of sweet and salty tastes.

If you want this to be a hearty meal, rather than a dainty breakfast, add more vegetables and cook some rice vermicelli, and eat from a suitably large bowl.