We like to make up big batches of this homey chowder when the local sweet corn is at its peak. Do not toss out those corn cobs; they make a fabulous stock that gives this soup its wonderful corn-y flavor.
I absolutely love making this soup now that I have figured out how to make it using my food processor. It used to be quite labor-intensive to cut all the vegetables by hand. Now, I just throw them into the food processor to chop into small pieces, then toss them into my Dutch oven. So quick, so simple, and I also vastly prefer the texture of the soup prepared this way to the traditional way I was taught to make it. The vegetables don’t all come out the same perfect size, which I like, and the rice or pasta is cooked at the same time, making it possible to get my soup on the table pretty quickly.
You can, literally, put any vegetables in soupe au pistou. In spring, I add asparagus and loads of fresh peas. In summer, more ripe tomatoes. In fall, I add butternut squash. It is a substantial soup, and served with a baguette, it could easily be the meal’s main course. A green salad is a nice accompaniment.
Confession: I’ve always found potato-leek soup to be a little on the gluey side. So, when I make it at home, I try to add a green element, especially in spring months. Asparagus becomes quite subtle in this soup and pairs well with the anise-y fennel and peppery arugula in the background. Any manner of peas (sweet, sugar snap, snow) could be swapped for the asparagus. Because we are pulverizing much of the fiber in this recipe, I garnish the soup with a few raw asparagus spears as a carb companion.
This is the ultimate one-pot meal that feeds many and comforts all. By far, my favorite traditional main course. Essentially a soup made with meat (a combination of beef and pork) or seafood and root vegetables, the dish varies from home to home and town to town.
A whole book could be written about this dish, since it has been adapted and appropriated by many countries across Latin America and the Caribbean. Hence, sancocho recipes are personal, unscripted, often use locally available ingredients , and can be watered down if unexpected mouths show up.
Serving and eating sancocho is particularly personal. I go with how it was always served at my mother’s home: Once the soup is ready, the roots, corn, and meats are taken out of the broth and divided onto large platters. The broth is then strained, skimmed, and reheated to be served on the side along with lime wedges, avocado slices, white rice, and ají.
Each person gets a plate and a bowl, and they assemble their own sancocho as they wish. Some cut the roots and meats up to add back into the broth, while others eat it separately and sip the broth between bites. Whichever way you choose is fine.
Regardless, there is a lot of silverware involved.
Lisa’s first trip to Dakar was special for many reasons, not least of which was her introduction to my aunt Marie’s sauce feuille. This dish is a genuine representation of my roots—generous, heartwarming, and nourishing in all the right ways. It’s traditionally made with moringa, cassava or sweet potato leaves, and cabbage. Here, I use collard greens, which are easy to find and still create that homey green color and rich, textured flavor, but if you can source the more traditional cassava leaves, use them!
Prawn Curry with Darkened Cinnamon
An˘duru kurun˘du saman˘ga issan kariy
One of my favorite things to do with a batch of Sunday Focaccia is to dunk it into this simple Mediterranean-inspired soup. It features a combination of fennel and dill, which evokes the food I grew up with in a Greek American home. The best thing about the soup is that it’s quick to make (it’ll only need 20 minutes to simmer), and like most soups, it tastes even better after a day or two.
Buckwheat is the most popular grain in Slavic cuisine. When a crisis hits any Slavic country, buckwheat is usually the first thing that disappears from grocery store shelves. That’s how much people rely on it in their diet. I was never crazy about buckwheat when I was a kid. But when mom made me this soup, everything changed. It has the most alluring deep flavor of buckwheat and mushrooms with the right balance of sweetness and earthiness. It’s just like being wrapped in a cozy blanket and taking an autumn walk in a forest. I love eating this soup piping hot with the darkest rye bread I can find.
My mom had a beautiful relationship with her in-laws. That she was neither Mexican nor Catholic was never a problem. She won them over. She told me she would sit down to a conversation about calculus with my grandfather, who also had an amazing mind, and he’d leave her behind in three sentences. Mom learned to cook Mexican food from my grandmother, who was a really good cook.
This is a substantial, creamy peanut stew with plenty of spice from a good dollop of curry paste. Use your favorite brand of curry, a homemade paste, or even the ubiquitous Thai Kitchen brand. Canned crushed tomatoes are easy to find (and good here!), but this soup gains extra depth of flavor with canned fire-roasted tomatoes. I thought about making the miso optional, because, really, it is. But it’s a nice addition, lending extra body, flavor, and dimension.