Tag Archives: Soups

Lentil Soup with Smoked Turkey

02 Friday Mar 2012

Posted by in Food for Thought

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I am an inveterate recipe clipper. One of the drawers in our home is filled to overflowing with recipes culled from the New York Times, the Plain Dealer, the Richmond Times-Dispatch, and all the usual suspects among the food magazines. Why do I do this? It’s not for lack of cookbooks in my collection. Stumped for a way to prepare fish, I’ll troll various sites on the Internet. I could begin, today and each day thereafter, to cook my way through every clipped recipe I own and find myself cooking until 2040—if standing on my feet in front of a hot stove doesn’t kill me first.

The thing is, I’m a sucker for well-written food articles. They satisfy my hunger for evocative language and delicious meals in one convenient, non-reheatable packet.

This recipe, included in an article by China Millman of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and recently reprinted in our local paper, the Richmond Times-Dispatch, caught my eye for two reasons. First, the headline was a real grabber: “Humble staples make one exquisite soup.” Second, I have a shelf of repurposed White Cat Popcorn jars filled with dried beans, split peas, and lentils. Why not, I asked myself, cook something that I don’t have to fill a cart from Whole Foods to prepare? The only item I didn’t have on hand was the smoked turkey, which I found, you guessed it, at Whole Foods.

A great big thank you goes out to cookbook author Eugenia Bone, who created this delicious and satisfying soup recipe in the first place; it was originally published in the December 2009 issue of Food & Wine magazine. I reached Ms. Bone via email through her website. If you go there, you’ll find it has a most scientific name—Mycophilia.com, because it is devoted to her love of mushrooms and her new book, Mycophilia: Revelations from the Weird World of Mushrooms. I love mushrooms, and so of course I’m going to have to look into this. Eugenia Bone also writes a blog, Well-Preserved, for the Denver Post.

Lentil Soup with Smoked Turkey *
—Serves 4 to 6

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled
2 celery ribs, finely chopped
2 carrots, finely chopped
1 onion, finely chopped
1 16-ounce can whole tomatoes, chopped and juices reserved
1 bay leaf
1 cup green or brown lentils **
3/4 pound smoked turkey wing and thigh
4 small red potatoes, peeled and sliced 1/4-inch thick
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, for serving ***

In a large pot, heat the oil. Add the garlic, celery, carrots, and onion and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally until softened, 7 minutes. Add the tomatoes, bay leaf, lentils, smoked turkey, and 2 quarts of water and bring to a boil. Cover partially and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the lentils are tender, 1 hour. Add potatoes and simmer until tender, 10 minutes.

Remove the turkey meat from the bones and return it to the soup; discard the skin, bones, and bay leaf. Add the parsley and season the soup with salt and pepper. Ladle the soup into bowls and serve, passing the cheese at the table.

Make ahead: The lentil soup can be refrigerated for up to 3 days.

* I doubled the recipe for this session, which is why there’s an extra onion and 2 extra celery ribs in the mise en place photo, along with a 28-ounch package of tomatoes.

**I used all the green lentils that I had on hand, and supplemented with brown in order to get to 2 cups—remember, I was doubling this recipe. I added only 3 and 1/2 quarts of water, though, which made for a nice, thick soup.

***The article noted that adding a Parmigiano-Reggiano rind to the pot would add richness. I did this and it did. Rinds of this cheese keep well in the freezer.

Recipe used with permission of Eugenia Bone.

The Godmother’s Italian Wedding Soup

20 Monday Feb 2012

Posted by in Food for Thought, Nostalgia, Relationships and Family Life

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I was not at a wedding the first time I ever tasted Italian Wedding Soup. My recollection is surprisingly sharp, given I could not have been more than eight-years old. My mother, who was of Sicilian descent, had cousins in Warren, Michigan. My father drove the three of us up from Elyria, Ohio—a nearly three-hour trip—for a day visit, the purpose of which eludes me (here my memory is as dense as a cumulonimbus cloud). We gathered for a delicious dinner in the cousins’ formal dining room. I suspect there are two reasons why I remember any of this at all: First, we never traveled anywhere as a family, and second, I had never seen soup with what looked like cooked lettuce in it. It wasn’t lettuce at all, of course, but rather escarole. (I had no idea what that was, so the distinction was lost on me at the time.) All I knew was that the concoction was wonderful, punctuated by the most charming little meatballs I’d ever seen outside of a plate of spaghetti. This sense memory has stayed with me for years.

The name comes from the Italian word for soup, minestra, and the fact that the flavors “marry” well (maritata); hence, wedding soup. This recipe comes from my godmother Fannie, an excellent cook. You’ll remember meeting her in my story “Marlo & Me—Act I.” Aunt Fannie, thank you for sharing this recipe with me, and for allowing me to include it in the blog.

ITALIAN WEDDING SOUP
Serves 4

FOR THE MEATBALLS:
2 pounds ground chuck or round steak
3/4 cup Italian-seasoned bread crumbs
3 eggs, whipped with a whisk
1 Tablespoon parsley flakes
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
1-1/2 teaspoons Kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 teaspoon garlic powder, or 1 minced clove of garlic
2-3 Tablespoons olive oil, for frying

Mix all of the ingredients thoroughly in a large bowl. Cover and let stand at room temperature for one and one-half hours.

Roll the meat into 1/2-inch balls. Brown in olive oil and drain on paper towels. (At this point the meatballs can be frozen for later use.)

THE SOUP:
One-half batch browned meatballs for 2 quarts broth. Freeze the rest of the meatballs for the next time. (If you wish to use the entire batch of meatballs, double the following quantities):

1 bunch escarole (fresh spinach can be substituted)
2 quarts chicken stock (I had homemade stock in my freezer)
Two eggs, beaten
1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Wash, trim, and cut the escarole (or spinach) into small pieces. Place in a pot of boiling water for about eight minutes (five minutes if using spinach). Drain well.

Bring chicken broth to a boil, season with salt and pepper to taste, and reduce heat to simmer. Add the meatballs and escarole (or spinach) and return to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer for about 20 minutes, allowing the flavors of the meatballs to infuse the broth. Add the beaten eggs and cheese. Serve immediately, with extra cheese at the table.

For Those Having Trouble With the Soup Link …

26 Wednesday Oct 2011

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Dear friends,

Some of you might be having trouble linking to the post for Chef Tom Valenti’s Ham Hock and Split Pea Soup recipe. My apologies. I’ve been having trouble with my Flickr account, which is my current repository for gallery photos.

Clicking on the embedded link should take you directly to it. And here’s a short link if you’d like to kick it old-school by pasting this into your browser:

http://wp.me/p1NlBZ-cX

Sorry for any inconvenience.

Love,

The Midlife Second Wife

p.s. to Flickr: As soon as I can afford it, I’m leaving you for Aperture.

Tom Valenti’s Ham Hock and Split Pea Soup

26 Wednesday Oct 2011

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Several years ago, I purchased a wonderful cookbook, Soups, Stews, and One-Pot Meals. The book’s co-author, chef Tom Valenti, is acclaimed in the food world for his two New York City restaurants, Ouest and ‘Cesca; the praise of such redoubtable food critics as Ruth Reichl and Gael Greene; being named one of the country’s “Ten Best Chefs” by Food & Wine magazine; and his four cookbooks, to list just a few reasons. Chef Valenti is also a humanitarian and philanthropist—CNN deemed him a “national hero” for establishing Windows of Hope, a nonprofit organization that provided aid to the families of food-service workers killed during the World Trade Center attack on September 11.

He’s also one heck of a nice guy.

In my kitchen, the advent of autumn is meaningless unless I prepare Chef Valenti’s Ham Hock and Split Pea Soup to herald its arrival, and I make it religiously throughout the winter. Indeed, the very act of creating this soup is akin to a religious act for me—using my chef’s knife to render the vegetables into the “small dice” he requires, sautéeing the aromatic ingredients, tossing the fragrant marjoram into the pot…the entire process is a comforting series of rituals, and the result yields one of my favorite comfort foods. I wanted to share the recipe with you here, but not without his permission. I sent my request to the e-mail address on the website for Ouest, and then turned my attention to the business of downloading the iOS5 software for my iPhone—a process that took about two hours. When things were back up and running, I rather hoped to see an e-mail reply from one of Chef Valenti’s employees, but the e-mail cupboard was bare. What I did notice, however, was a voice message alerting me to a call I’d missed while my iPhone was out-of-pocket. Chef Tom Valenti took the time to telephone me, leaving a message giving me his permission to publish the recipe on The Midlife Second Wife.

Yes. A heck of a nice guy. And one phenomenal chef with a great recipe for split pea soup. I like to serve this with a crusty French baguette and a hearty cheddar cheese. Enjoy!

HAM HOCK AND SPLIT PEA SOUP
by Tom Valenti and Andrew Friedman
from Tom Valenti’s Soups, Stews, and One-Pot Meals
(Scribner, 2003)

Serves 6

2 cups green split peas, picked through, small stones discarded
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large carrot, peeled and cut into small dice
1 medium Spanish onion, peeled and cut into small dice
1 stalk celery, cut into small dice
Coarse salt (I use Kosher salt)
Freshly ground black pepper
Sugar
1 large clove garlic, smashed and peeled
1 bay leaf
3 sprigs marjoram or thyme
2 quarts store-bought, reduced-sodium vegetable or chicken broth, homemade   Vegetable or Chicken Stock (page 244 of Valenti’s book), or a combination.
2 pounds smoked ham hocks
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves or Garlic Croutons (page 233 of Valenti’s book), optional

1. Put the split peas in a bowl and cover with cold water. Set aside.
2. Heat the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat until hot but not smoking. Add the carrot, onion, and celery; season with salt, pepper, and a pinch of sugar; and cook, stirring, until the vegetables soften, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another 2 minutes.
3. Drain the split peas and add them to the pot. Add the bay leaf, marjoram, broth, and ham hocks. Give a good stir and bring the liquid to a boil over high heat, continuing to stir to keep the peas from scorching. Lower the heat, cover, and simmer for 1 hour.
4. Use tongs or a slotted spoon to remove the ham hocks from the pot. Set them aside on a plate. Cook the soup for 30 minutes longer, or until the peas and other vegetables have completely broken down and the soup has thickened considerably. If it becomes too thick, add more stock or water (see note).
5. While the soup is simmering, and as soon as the ham hocks have cooled enough to work with, use your hands to remove the meat from the bones, shredding it as you work. There won’t be a lot of it, but what is there is very flavorful. Set the meat aside.
6. When the soup is done, use tongs or a spoon to remove and discard the bay leaf and marjoram springs. Taste and correct seasoning, bearing in mind that the bits of ham are salty. Add the reserved ham to the pot. If not serving immediately, let cool, cover, and refrigerate for a few days or freeze for up to 1 month. Reheat before proceeding.
7. To serve, ladle the soup into individual bowls and drizzle with extra-virgin olive oil. Scatter some thyme leaves over each serving, if desired, or float a garlic crouton on top of each bowl.

Tom Valenti note:
A lot of American cooks are unfamiliar with ham hocks, even though they’re a staple in the South. I first discovered them as a child when my grandmother took me along on her excursions to the supermarket. While she stood talking to the butcher, my eye would wander over to the refrigerated meats section. For the longest time, I didn’t even ask what these funny-looking, prewrapped, precooked, brown things were, but in time I learned that they were smoked ham hocks. They’ve become one of my favorite incarnations of pork. They’re user-friendly and have great utility. They also give off a lot of natural gelatin, which acts as a subtle thickening agent, adding body to soups
and sauces.

Recipe © 2003 Tom Valenti. All rights reserved.

A Note About Garlic From TMSW:
It’s time that we had a talk here on the blog about garlic. I’ve been meaning to bring this up for some while. It’s the rare recipe in our household that doesn’t call for garlic, and not just because I’m Lebanese and Sicilian. I love everything about cooking with garlic: the way it flavors a dish, its aromatic properties, and the little ritual I perform each time I use it, which is what I want to discuss with you. (No. It has nothing to do with halitosis. If you like, that’s an issue we can address when I introduce a beauty and grooming department on the blog.)

Back in the seventies, before I was a YoungLifeFirstWife, I worked with a woman who, by day, was a court stenographer. But by night, she was an amateur gourmet cook—a fabulous one. Although I was barely 20, she must have seen some sort of cooking glimmer in my eye, for she began sharing some of her recipes with me. A few of them called for garlic, and it was at this juncture that she shared with me her secret for avoiding the heartburn that people sometimes suffer after ingesting the pungent, herbal bulb.

“Take your garlic clove and slice it lengthwise down the middle,” Aldona advised. “You’ll see a pale green shoot, which is actually the root of the allium.” (A highly intellectual cook, she never missed an opportunity to further my education.)


“Pry this slender root out of each half of the garlic and throw it away. That root is the source of heartburn. Do this, and you’ll never have an unfortunate reaction to eating food prepared with garlic.”


I was far too young and inexperienced to know that my future would contain recipes calling for either the entire head of garlic, or whole cloves—unminced, unchopped, or unpressed. For recipes such as those, I throw caution to the winds. I never have had a case of heartburn from eating garlic-infused dishes, either, so I’m thinking that I fortified my system all these years—sort of like creating an allium armor—by removing the root at every reasonable opportunity.