There is nothing like a good fishermen stew to wipe the gray days from our April galoshes. Nothing like a French fishermen stew to make us feel properly elegant. And nothing like a big ol’ pot simmering away to offer plenty of leftovers for the week to come (or freeze for the next rainy day).

Bouillabaisse (pronounced boo-ya-base), not only fun to say, is a delicious alternative to your basic fish soup. Even better, it is far healthier than its cream-based cousin, Chowder.

This fish stew comes to our shores via France as a way for fishermen to use up unsold leftovers from their catch. It comes to our plate today because I canned 25 quart jars of tomatoes and when I brainstormed uses for them beyond pasta, this was a dish listed (just after tomato ice cream).

What I love most about this dish, other than using up 2 jars of tomatoes, is the use of fennel. Woe is the lowly fennel bulb in the US marketplace that receives little attention. While I use fennel, and to a greater extent anise (fennel seeds) in dishes– most notable citrus-based salads, I loved the idea of adding it to a soup base. Fish is the perfect compliment to this tangy licorice-laced vegetable. (I used anise in my Bouillabaisse, noting it in the recipe, because it was what was on hand.) But thoughts of fennel have me dreaming of a spring fennel-potato cream soup. Thankfully, fennel seeds were planted last week in the garden.

I bulk of flavor of my stock comes from a cod head I purchased at my local fish monger. It’s flavor is far more subtle than fattier, stronger flavored fishes, like salmon, and provides a rich base to build on. After that, the remaining fish is a matter of preference and price. While there are Bouillabaisse purists who claim only certain seafood is allowed in a Bouillabaisse, I recommend a combination of favorite shellfish and fish that can hold up in a stock: clam, mussels, calamari, shrimp, cod and monkfish.

Another ingredient of Bouillabaisse is saffron. While I love the subtle sweet woodsy flavor of saffron, I believe the true winner in this dish is the fish. Saffron is expensive and I recommend forgoing this ingredient if you don’t have it around.

An interesting factoid to keep in mind once you get to adding the fish: Bouillabaisse is a combination of two French words bolhir, to boil, and abaissar, to simmer. So named because you add your first fish when the stock boils. Once added, the temperature drop, reducing the stock to a simmer. Return to a boil, add the next fish, again the stock is reduced to a simmer, and so forth. With each return to boil you can be assured that your fish is cooking through, without overdoing it– as long as you begin your bolhir with your fish that will cook from longest to shortest (approximately).

Bouillabaisse
Serving Size= 8. Prep Time= 20 minutes. Cook Time= 45 minutes.
12 clams
1 pound mussels
1 pound monkfish (with bone)
1/2 cup olive oil
2 onions, sliced thinly
1 4-inch length of orange peel
8 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon anise seeds (or 1 fennel bulb, sliced thinly)
1 cod head
4 generous pinches saffron
1 tablespoon dried herbs (thyme, rosemary, basil, marjoram would work)
2 quarts whole canned tomatoes, loosely chopped
1 pound cod, cut into 2-inch cubes
1 pound shrimp
1/2 pound calamari
salt/pepper to taste
1 bunch fresh parsley, chopped,  for garnish

Clean beards from mussels, set aside. Cover clams with room temperature salted water in a bowl, set aside. Remove monkfish from bone. Cut meat into 2-inch pieces, set bone aside.

Warm the olive oil in a large stock pot. Add onions and orange peel, saute 3 minutes. Add garlic and anise, stir 2 minutes. Add 2 quarts of water, monkfish bone and fish head. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer 15 minutes. Remove bone and head. Stir in saffron until dissolved. Add dried herbs and tomatoes, return to a boil. Add clams. Return to a boil and stir to encourage opening. Add mussels. Return to a boil and stir to encourage opening. Continue to add shellfish and fish one at a time, returning the pot to a boil before each new addition. Stir the pot after each addition to encourage shellfish to open. Once calamari is added, cook just 2 to 3 minutes longer, remove from heat then salt and pepper to taste.

To serve, strain shellfish and fish into a large serving bowl or platter, sprinkle with half the parsley. Serve broth in bowls garnished with parsley. (Keeping these separate makes reheating easy– just reheat broth and once boiling, pour over fish and shellfish instead of recooking, eventually overcooking, fish and shellfish!) Bouillabaisse is often served with good crusty bread spread with a saffron mayonnaise and boiled potatoes.

At twenty-six years old, my grandmother ran from her country under the protection of the night’s sky. She ran with four children under the age of seven, her husband, and a lifetime of recipes tucked away in her mind. That night they left behind their friends, livestock, farm, language, family, country and way of life, in an attempt to gain freedom. It was a process that would take five years in a refugee camp before being adopted into the United States. A process where they would not be able to return to their homeland or speak with relatives for forty years.

During her life in Latvia, well before women held jobs out of the house, my grandmother was head chef at an all-girls boarding school—those lucky girls. There, she cooked up piradzini (soft, doughy crescent-shaped rolls stuffed with bacon or mushrooms), kotlettes (ground meat patties), and my family’s all-time favorite nac rita atkal.

Nac rita atkal translates as “come back tomorrow.” “In the old days,” my grandmother, now ninety-two, will say in her still broken English, “parties lasted days, with friends sleeping between dancing and eating, close to the fire.” One has to imagine, in a country that can get so cold, where winter nights go on for days, a party that lasts until the one hour of sun-up isn’t a party, it’s a way of life. Snow is not a wispy blanket, but coats the ground in a waist-high thicket. “At those parties,” my grandmother still remembers wistfully, we made nac rita atkal.

My brothers and I know them simply as Latvian Pancakes. They are beyond a treat in my house. They are so good, that even in the six years of my noble vegetarianism, my grandmother knew to make me a veggie version of the savory snack to keep the household peace.

This is a recipe that must always be secretly doubled. One batch goes onto the table for immediate consumption (if it can make it to the table), while the other gets whisked away quickly and quietly, carefully hidden in an odorless, opaque, non-conspicuous container on the other side of the house until everyone is good and stuffed. Even then, it’s whereabouts and contents must be kept unknown except to the privileged few.

To this day, Latvian Pancakes are the one food my brothers and I still fight over to take home frozen. I ration mine down to the week, knowing precisely how many I can eat to keep my addiction at stasis before the next batch will grace my plate.

Unfortunately, it is impossible to write any of my grandmother’s recipes down. They are stored neatly in her brain, now getting a bit foggy, so my uncle has taken to video taping her kitchen movements. She moves quickly. Too fast to measure anything beyond how many eggs are used– which also varies depending on her mood, the outside temperature, the position of the sun, and countless other variables. “Grandma, how much flour?” I’ll ask. “This much,” she says thrusting her fist into the flour and tossing a handful into the mixing bowl. She stirs. “So… one cup?” I question. “No, more!” she declares adding more bit by bit until the batter is to her liking.

While I do not have my grandmother’s exact recipe for this pancake, I am able make a butchered version that is pretty good. After all, I have come to realize, it’s my grandmother’s touch and bittersweet memories of her home that make them truly perfect.

The pancakes are minced meat, always leftovers, usually beef, stuffed inside perfectly folded golden crepes. Turkey makes a decent filling, especially useful with Thanksgiving leftovers and roasted vegetables with mushrooms can pass as edible. Traditionally served with sour cream, apple or cranberry sauce, though also excellent plain, I argue there is no finer dish.

Nac Rita Atkal (Come Back Tomorrow or Latvian Pancakes)
About 25 pancakes
Crepe:
1-1/4 cups flour
1/2 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
8 eggs
1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup melted butter

In a medium-sized bowl, sift together dry ingredients. Create a moat in the middle, add remaining ingredients. Whisk together, smoothing out lumps. Refrigerate at least 2 hours, ideally 8 hours minimum. Note: If batter gets too thick, thin lightly with water.

Warm a dollop of butter on a 9-inch skillet over medium heat. Ladle in the batter, tipping the pan quickly to spread evenly, paper-thin. Brown one side golden, 2 to 3 minutes, then flip onto a plate. Continue with remaining batter.

Filling:
3-1/2 cups roasted beef (recommended: leftover brisket), roughly chopped
1/2 cup roasted mushrooms, chopped
1/2 cup chicken or beef stock
1/4 cup chopped onions, sautéed golden
1/4 cup sour cream (or 1/2 sour cream 1/2 gravy)
salt, to taste

Working in batches, pulse all ingredients in a food processor until chopped to the consistency of wet ground beef. Add salt if needed.

Working with the crepes golden (cooked) side up, place two heaping tablespoons in the center. Fold the bottom up over the filling, then the top down, then sides, forming a small tight, square pocket. (The uncooked side of the crepe acts like a glue to hold crepes together lightly.) Transfer seam-side down to a plate. Repeat until all crepes are filled.

Return the skillet to medium-high heat, warming a large dollop of butter. Place a layer of stuffed pancakes seam down. Cook 3 minutes until golden, turn and cook another 2-3 minutes. Transfer to a plate, continuing to cook assembled pancakes.

Serve with sour cream, apple and/ or cranberry sauce.

It is a cold, hibernate-worthy winter this year. I know, not as cold as my friends and family tell me the mid-west is, but none the less, cold for New York City (and snowy!). It is a winter where heaps of homemade pasta and roasted meats keep us alive, root vegetables warm us, and a special apple cider-maple syrup toddy is just the thing to end the night. All I need is a fire to keep my toes toasty.

Shortened daylight seems to mess with my realities of time and the amount I can accomplish in a day. But more is to come: More Sustainable Table pages are going up. I’ll post those shortly. Exciting information come Spring– a heads up and hint to check the Spring/Summer ICE (Institute of Culinary Education) curriculum calendar if you are in NYC or coming this way. All excuses to not be posting, so I wanted to share this dip. It is so simple. (Can I call this a dip? For some reason olive oil does not say dip to me.)

This dip is perfect because I usually have some combination of these ingredients around (and I think most people will too). I made this 4 nights straight it is so quick and easy to throw together. Alternately, one large batch can easily be whipped up and rationed and the flavors will come out more intensely.

With this dip, D and I re-discovered the glorious thing that is sage– It is going into the garden come Spring no doubt. Though any equally hearty fresh herb like rosemary or tarragon will work well. Don’t skimp on the fresh herb! I forgot the sage one night and it was not the same. Any citrus zest– lemon, grapefruit, tangerine, will do the trick, and if you like, omit the garlic.

Orange-Sage Olive Oil
Serving Size= 4 persons. Prep time= 4 minutes. Cook time= 0 minutes.
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 garlic, smashed
1 tablespoon loosely packed fresh sage, chopped
2 teaspoons (a dash) balsamic vinegar
1-2 teaspoons orange zest (or other citrus)
1/4 teaspoon salt (can mash salt with garlic to form paste, if desired)
pinch of fresh ground pepper

Mix all ingredients briefly with a fork to incorporate. Eat with good crusty bread.

Homemade mayonnaise is my new favorite condiment. Forget the bleached out jellified gunk that can last years in the blue and yellow bottle. The homemade kind has a bright lemon flavor that will have you using it more like the star of your dish, rather than an extra. (The horrors of mayonnaise previously discussed here.) But the best part, once you’ve accomplished the basic formula, you can add all sorts of extra flavors, turning the seemingly blase item into something stellar:

The addition of garlic makes a fantastic topping for potatoes.

Add lemon juice and zest for a lobster dunk.

Fold in smoked paprika for shrimp.

And the list goes on. I had extra mayonnaise sitting around the other week, fried up an Ancho chile and pureed it with some mayonnaise. The result was a rich and complex mayonnaise with hints of dark chocolate and a lingering, yet not overwhelming spice. While sweet potato fries came to mind, I scratched it after a trip to the fish monger: fish tacos.

In the depths of winter we long for fresh vegetables, but fish always makes me happy. And because winter is the ideal time for some of my favorite catches (lobster and oysters– that’s right, simple pleasures) I can keep quiet until the buds break through.

Until then, fish tacos (or heck, lobster tacos with lobster prices so deliciously low) are a great way to trudge through these bleak months. Served warm or at room temperature, a little bit of spice mixed in will warm you inside out in no time.

Another taco bonus: storage vegetables make the perfect toppings. Don’t get stuck in the lie that all tacos should be topped with chopped tomato, lettuce, cheddar cheese and a dollop of sour cream! A little cabbage tossed with lime zest and juice (forget that lettuce) and crisp baby turnips thinly sliced (instead of a spring radish) and of course, some ancho mayonnaise (instead of cheese or sour cream) provides a winning combination. A sprinkle of fresh cilantro or parsley before you seal the deal and bite in is a delicious accent that works wonders.

Fish Tacos w/ Ancho Mayonnaise & Winter Storage Vegetables
Serving Size= 2 persons. Cook time= aprx 10 minutes. Prep time= aprx 20 minutes.
For the Ancho Mayonnaise (recipe adapted from Joy of Cooking):
2 dried ancho chile, stemmed and seeded
1 tablespoon peanut oil
1 egg
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon honey
1-1/4 cups olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
For the Tacos:
4 mini flour tortillas
1/4 of a medium-sized red cabbage, sliced into 1/2-inch slivers
pinch of salt
juice of 1 lime plus zest
2 baby salad turnips, sliced thinly
1/4 cup fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped
3/4 lb Preferred white fish (a flaky fish, like mahi mahi works well, as do meatier choices like monkfish or lobster)
2 tablespoons olive oil

Make the Mayonnaise:
Heat a pan on medium-high, add peanut oil and fry ancho chile on both sides to lightly blacken. Set aside to cool slightly and cut into 1/2-inch wide slivers. In a blender, combine egg, salt, cayenne, honey, ancho chile and 1/4 cup of the olive oil. Blend until well combined. With blender on high, slowly add 1/2 cup more olive oil, then slowly add the lemon juice, then slowly add the remaining olive oil, stopping when a thick consistency is reached.
Make the Tacos:
Heat a dry pan on high heat. Add tortillas, scalding about 45 seconds on each side, until slightly browned and warm. Wrap in tinfoil and set aside. Reduce heat to medium-high and prepare vegetables while pan cool slightly: Slice cabbage and toss with salt, lime juice and zest; slice turnips; chop fresh herbs, arrange all on a platter for toppings. Rinse off fish, pat dry, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add olive oil to the pan and sear fish 3-4 minutes each side, until cooked through. Flake off bone, fold in 2 tablespoons of the ancho mayonnaise (or more if desired) and serve ingredients, assembling tacos with desired toppings as you eat.

We’re at the peak of fall here in New York City and it hardly seems to be showing. While the trees are brilliant golds, mums are popping open, and bulbs are heading into the ground, the sun is blasting down and the days are mild in the upper 50’s and 60’s. I thought I lived on the east coast, not west.

I await a steady stream of cool, crisp fall days– Fall is my favorite season and there is nothing like cuddling up to a bowl of hot soup on a cold night, or a nice hot toddy. And as we sit practically beach side in the City, northern New York and the surrounds have already seen snow. These truly cold temps around the City bring fall produce into farmer markets and my CSA drops, even if it’s the last thing on our mind.
So now I have a pileup of butternut and acorn squashes awaiting temperatures to dip low enough to justify turning the oven on for extended lengths. And as I thought about those squash the other day, I thought about potatoes and home fries and hash, and how sweetly seductive a butternut hash might be with a morning egg.

Peeled, seeded and chopped into 1/2-inch cubes, squash will cook up in less time than the same sized potatoes on the stove top. Left alone, those sauteed squash can top salads, get mashed for sides, or, turned into cookies or pies– Or, as above, mixed into a sweet and savory hash to accompany an egg.

Squash Hash
Serving size= 4 persons. Prep time= 15 minutes. Cook time= 15 minutes
1 butternut squash (acorn, sunshine, delicata, or other winter squash will work), Peeled, halved, seeds removed, slice into 1/2-inch cubes
1 cup crimini mushrooms, quartered
2 red peppers, sliced into long 1/2-inch strips
2 tablespoons fresh chives (or 1 scallion), minced
salt/ pepper to taste
2 tablespoons lard, olive oil or butter to cook

Method: Heat preferred fat in skillet over medium-high heat. Add squash and mushrooms, toss to coat in fat, then let cook for 5 minutes to brown. Add red peppers and a pinch of salt. Stir and cook about 8 minutes, stirring occasionally, until squash is soft and mushrooms are browned. Remove from heat, add pepper to taste and chives. Toss to coat and serve.

There are few things that remind me of the marvelous gifts of winter. Simply that a little bivalve can bring so much happiness. Or best yet, something that can make me believe I am sitting in front of my very own fireplace, in a cozy cabin, on a precipice overlooking a spraying bay. A bowl of chowder accomplishes all these things and more.

Clam chowder. Not that poor excuse of a chowder– the thin Manhattan tomato-based variety. Thick and creamy New England style, loaded with clams and root vegetables. The bounty of winter in a single bowl.

Clam chowder is a soup that makes me feel like a fisherman. Each time I finish a bowl it’s with an affirmative “arrrr, maty, t’was mighty fine gruel.” I smack the lingering ocean brine from my lips as I sadly realize no parrot sits on my shoulder, and I am simply in my New York City apartment (perhaps I believe I am a pirate?).

Oh you wicked tease clam chowder.

The best chowder I ever ate was along the New Jersey coast. I’m sure the late fall frigid temperatures played a part in its greatness. Or maybe because it was the only eating destination open. Possibly it was the giant yellow whale engraved against the blue hut that sold it. But there were four of us in total, taking a cold road trip to the shore for some R&R on the abandoned coast. That was good chowder.

The above chowder might be just as good. It smells of warm cream and ocean water and sticks to the bones just right on these wintry afternoons. It is not as heavy as other clam chowders you find. To thicken the broth and add some extra flavor, I added a puree of roasted root vegetables along with a scant 2 pints of heavy cream (2 pints is scant when you make a 20-quart pot of chowder). I also used a combination of smaller littleneck clams and larger cherrystones that were removed from their shells and chopped into the soup. I’ve adapted the recipe below to a simpler cherrystone-only version. Additionally, I had leftover lobster stock (frozen from mine and D’s Valentine’s lobster feast) that I used as stock. Any fish stock or a bottle of clam juice will work equally well.

New England Clam Chowder
Serving size= 6-8. Active time= 20 minutes. Inactive time= 30 minutes.
1 dozen cherrystone clams
2 strips bacon, chopped
1 onion, chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb assorted root vegetables (potatoes, rutabaga, parsnips, carrots, turnips all work well), cut into 1 inch pieces
1 sprig thyme
2 8-ounce bottles clam juice (or a fish stock, 8 cups total)
2 cups water
1 pint heavy cream

1) Soak clams in lightly salted water for 30-60 minutes. This helps them spit out trapped sand from their shells.
2) In a 6-quart pot, bring 2 cups of lightly salted water to a boil. Add clams and cover, cook 2 minutes. Stir, cover and cook 2-3 minutes more, until all clams have opened up. Set clams aside and toss any clams that do not open. Strain the cooking liquid and set aside.
3) In the same pot (now without liquid), fry chopped bacon on medium-high heat until crisp. Remove from pot and set aside. Do not drain fat. Add chopped onion, saute 3 minutes. Add garlic, saute 1 minute more. Add chopped root vegetables, thyme sprig, bottled clam juice, retained clam juice cooking liquid and water. Cover, bring to a boil then reduce heat to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes, until root vegetables are soft.
4) While warming, remove clams from shells and chop roughly.
5) Once vegetables are soft, add heavy cream and stir to incorporate. Just before serving, stir in clams and bacon, season with salt and pepper and serve.

What is with me and beets? You ask.
What is this recent obsession with using them in strange applications? You wonder.
An early start on Valentine’s Day?

I wanted pink pasta. No, truthfully I am still looking to use up my beets in interesting ways. I have eaten them plain, braised, pickled, in chocolate cake, and now beets have fallen into gnocchi. I really wanted to utilize that unique coloring that I love into something that would be truly fabulous. I think this takes the cake. How fabulous they are, both taste and visually. Look at them! Lovely magenta dumplings! So bold on a plate, screaming to say, look at me at eat me!

With my new food mill a willing collaborator, I had to give these babies a try.

Step back. Food mill?

I know, it sounds very old fashion, right? Even D was a doubter (and now newly converted). For months I have been looking into purchasing a new potato masher. No joke, months. I take my kitchen purchases very seriously. I have been using an old pastry blender with wires that just don’t stick in place. (Poorly constructed.)

Debating between hand-held mashers, I could not bring myself to make the buy. Not enough uses for a single instrument that can cost a good deal for the style I wanted. Potato ricers are great, but they ultimately feel like giant garlic presses to me (they also do a lousy job pushing celeriac through I recently found out borrowing a friend’s). So after much contemplation I went with a food mill. Good not only for mashing or ricing potatoes, but will bring sauces and soups smooth, make applesauce, and somewhere down the road can make baby food or grandparent food (zing!).

So with my new food mill I pushed potatoes and beets through and out came what D exclaimed as the “Sweeney Todd Special.” Pot pies anyone? I am ecstatic I have this instrument.
Really, the beet in this recipe is so faint it is difficult to detect. Another great way to slip beets to the haters. I also think it’s a great way to get kids interested in vegetables. Forget slipping it into their food, how about letting them make pink pasta, black pasta (with sepia), brown (chocolate), you get it. I had fun, I’m sure a child would have even more. (And how rewarding to make something delicious the whole family can enjoy).

This recipe made a good deal of gnocchi, enough for two portions and plenty to freeze for later. The best part of gnocchi is that once it’s frozen, it just takes an extra minute or so in boiling water to bring to temperature. Easy, delicious and easy on the eyes. Make the beets a day before to cut some time off.

To make regular gnocchi, just remove the beets from the process and reduce the flour amount (or follow this link). Beets have so much moisture that a good amount of flour is needed to counteract the stickiness of the dough Alternatively, I could have used less beet, but I love how this gnocchi radiates (really, sort of radioactive).

Beet Gnocchi
Serving Size= 8-10 portions
Special equipment: box grater, potato ricer or food mill
2 large (I used 8 small) russet potatoes
2-3 beets
2-3 cups flour
2 eggs
2 teaspoons salt
pepper to taste

1) Snip greens from beets and boil until soft, 30-45 minutes. Remove skin under cold running water, set aside. Boil whole potatoes, skin on, until soft (do not puncture initially with fork). Work carefully and quickly with two towels to slip potato skin off (you want to rice the potatoes while still warm).
2) Working in batches, place potatoes and beets through the ricer and spread gratings over a cookie sheet to dry out as you work.
3) Create a mound with the potato and beet shavings. Add the flour, salt and pepper to the center and create a moat, cracking the eggs inside. Work and knead the dough together, adding more flour as necessary, until dough is no longer sticking to fingers. (As D said, until it looks like a giant pancreas, see photo left).
4) Working in batches on a lightly floured surface, roll the dough into snakes a little thicker than the width of your thumb. Slice into 1-inch pieces. Finish shaping on a lightly floured cutting board and imprint with a fork (this helps hold the sauce and cook more evenly). Assemble, slightly apart, on a cookie sheet and freeze if saving some for later use (this keeps the gnocchi from forming one giant gnocchi). Transfer to freezer bag once frozen through.
To Cook: Boil salted water. Add gnocchi and cook 3-4 minutes, until gnocchi float to top, remove with slotted spoon.
Note: Use your gnocchi just like regular pasta, though in my opinion, stay away from tomato based sauces as this will just be a large bowl of reds. Light olive oil and Parmesan, cream sauces or pesto, work very nicely with these. More in the days to come.

Here is another short sweet piece I wrote for The Queens Chronicle (linked below). If you’re throwing a New Year’s Eve party don’t stress! See my article for a few great recipe suggestions, including white bean rosemary dip, a simplified figs in a blanket and taramosalata (caviar dip).The Queens Chronicle, Holiday Recipes for An Appetizing New Year’s Eve

I know, I know, more soup?! This one is almost entirely leftovers and maybe something you can make with those holiday leftovers of your own.

Soup is a great excuse to get rid of leftovers, as a way to move through vegetables before they go bad, as a quick fix when you don’t want to cook, when sick, for an easy work lunch, and more. It’s just so easy to make a big batch of soup and freeze it away for a cold day.

Our freezer is stockpiled with all sorts of soups: carrot ginger, coconut pumpkin, cauliflower and so many subtle variations of these I often don’t see a reason to post them (like butternut sage, broccoli or carrot parsnip). I recently started labeling the containers with masking tape, marking soup type and date made. It sounds totally neurotic, but when you have two single serving sizes and carrot ginger looks a lot like carrot parsnip, it makes a difference.

The best part of making soup is that it is so cheap to make a filling and delicious meal. I have many friends who purchase soups at stores or restaurants for lunch or dinner and I just have to laugh. I have one friend who calls local restaurants asking each one what kinds of soups they have until he finds one he likes. In the 30-45 minutes it took him to make those calls he could have made his own soup! I know, not everyone thinks he has the time to make soup (really, just 30 minutes), but when you’re dropping $6 or more for a small bowl of soup and know it really only costs about $10 for a 16-serving pot you would laugh too.

I should go into the soup business.

I made the above soup with Thanksgiving leftovers and froze it immediately because I could not eat another bite of turkey. I de-thawed it today for a quick lunch and thought it can just as easily be made with Christmas leftovers. (Especially easy if you served a turkey or chicken and still have the carcass to make a rich stock.) The kale was leftover from another dish, but can just as easily be leftover green beans, broccoli, spinach or Brussels sprouts. The broth looks so creamy because it is enhanced with leftover mashed potatoes. The overall result is a delicious soup that brings holiday cheer back to a bowl.

Tuscan Kale & Bean Soup
Serving Size= 8 servings. Prep/cook time= 20 minutes. Inactive time= 15 minutes.
3 tablespoons olive oil or butter
1 leek or yellow onion
4-6 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons parsley (or combination of aromatics like sage, rosemary, basil, oregano)
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon salt
1 bunch, 2-3 cups packed, Tuscan kale (also called dinosaur kale or any leftover green vegetables)
4 roma tomatoes (optional) (can substitute 1 4 ounce can tomato paste)
1 can kidney beans, washed and drained
1 can butter beans, washed and drained
5 cups chicken or turkey broth and meat (if any is leftover), can substitute low-sodium boxed stock
leftover mashed potatoes (optional) can substitute heavy cream if desired

1) Warm olive oil in a stock pot on the stove top over medium-high heat. Slice onion thinly and add to pot. Saute 3-4 minutes. While warming, smash and chop garlic. Add to pot and saute 2 minutes more. Add dried parsley, bay leaf and salt.
2) Role 3-4 kale leaves at a time into cylinders and slice into 1/4 inch strips. Continue until all kale, including stems, are cut. Add to pot, saute until darkened and slightly wilted, 5 minutes.
3) Roughly chop tomatoes and add to pot along with washed and drained beans. Stir to incorporate.
4) Add broth and mashed potatoes. Stir to break potatoes into broth. Add water if too thick. Cover and bring contents to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes. Taste and season with salt/ pepper if needed. Serve with good crusty bread.

Instead of the way too simple, uber elegant dish I made with the leftover rice, I leave you this:

L-l-l-l-latkes golden brown
L-l-l-l-latkes eat ‘em down
Fry them in oil, wrap them in foil…

It’s the song I learned in school that made me hate them. I was unable to eat them for years. Fry in oil and wrap in foil?! That just sounds like it would end as a humid soggy mess, not a crisp and delicious treat it is supposed to be.

So on this, the last night of Hanukkah, I leave you with latkes, golden brown, crisp and delicious. No fancy tricks, like a salsa topping, or cumin spiced. No mango chutney or made with celariac instead of potatoes. Plain, traditional, never boring, very delicious, potato pancakes. My favorite way to eat latkes is as a base for poached eggs. Today, it’s a simple and easy snack.

Latkes
Active time= 15 minutes
1 pound russet potatoes
2 eggs
1 teaspoon garlic powder
2 tablespoons flour

1) Rub and wash potatoes clean. Use a food processor with a grater setting to shred the potatoes. Remove potatoes and spread them on a paper towel, set another on top and press to absorb as much water as possible.
2) Scramble eggs in a medium-sized bowl. Add garlic powder and flour, mix until combined.
3) Heat oil, enough to come 1 inch up the sides of a pan over high heat. Oil will be ready for frying once a wooden spoon, inserted upside down bubbles.
4) Add potatoes to egg and flour mixture. Stir to combine. Form small handfuls into flat pancakes and fry, 5-7 minutes each side, until golden. Sprinkle with a pinch of salt. Serve with a dollop of sour cream or applesauce.