Simmer

Uncomplicated, straight from the heart of the cook to the mouth and belly of the diner via the stove, a bowl of matzo balls in chicken soup is a sure-bet comfort food. With chicken in the matzo balls and the homemade “twice-cooked” broth, that simple bowl of comfort food becomes a substantial meal. It is a good idea to make the broth and meatball mixture the day before, so that when you’re ready to eat, there’s not a long wait. Also, that way you can use the fat that congeals on top of the broth, the schmaltz, in place of butter in the matzo balls.

I adore pearl barley, yet seldom remember to cook it. But at least once a year, in late spring leaning toward summer, when the weather is still chilly, I suddenly have a notion to make Scotch broth. It is essentially a homespun celebration of root vegetables bolstered by and enriched with lamb. The usual vegetable selection includes leeks, carrots, turnips, rutabagas, kohlrabies, and parsnips. Hamburg parsley, which is grown for its root rather than its leaves and is popular in northern European cooking, is also a good addition, adding herbal appeal. Unfortunately, it is so far not widely available in U.S. markets, but a garnish of fresh parsley nicely fills the herbal niche. Lamb neck and bone-in shoulder chops, the customary cuts for Scotch broth, create a meat broth as the soup cooks. Here, I turn the lamb into sausage and use a quick and convenient-to-make vegetable broth. That way the meat is thriftily stretched while still providing its depth of flavor to the soup. I add a tablespoon of tomato paste for color and a hint of acid: perhaps a shocking sidestep to staunch traditionalists, but I think the soup appreciates it.

This lamb, green bean, and tomato soup-stew, known as fasoulia in the home of my childhood, was the by-product of a regular event: my father dissecting a leg of lamb into its parts, from the most highly treasured, neatly cubed pieces for shish kebab to the fattier but still tender parts for grinding into sausage. A sidebar of the ritual was putting the bone and all the gristly bits into a pot, covering them with water, and gently simmering them into a broth for fasoulia. Even though the dish was a by-product of making shish kebab, it enjoyed a humble stature on our dinner table. These days when I desire a taste of lamb home cooking and am not deconstructing a leg of lamb, I use a bit of purchased ground lamb for meatballs. The green beans are key here, and though I usually turn up my nose at frozen vegetables, I make an exception for fasoulia, so that it can be enjoyed throughout the year. I find this soup-stew doesn’t need anything in the way of a side dish. A slice of bread, a spoon, and family company suffice, but Armenians would include pilaf on the side.

Hmong farmers, fleeing Laos to escape persecution, began arriving in the United States in the latter half of the 1970s, with the majority arriving in the 1980s. Most of them eventually settled where they could continue their agrarian life: Minnesota, Wisconsin, Ohio, North Carolina, and California, especially in the fertile land around Fresno, California. This occurrence is especially remarkable to me because it is where my Armenian relatives also settled three generations ago to farm in one of most bountiful growing places in the world. And I benefit still from that abundance. Notwithstanding the lengthy trip to the Bay Area, Hmong-grown vegetables from Fresno appear in glorious array at my local Oakland farmers’ market every Saturday, alongside the Armenian stand from the same area with its effusive display of fruits, heirloom tomatoes, eggplants, and Armenian cucumbers. Among the Hmong staples for sale are sturdy Asian brassicas, such as Chinese cabbage, Chinese mustard greens, and choys of several kinds; luffa (ridged gourd) and Chinese bitter melon; okra and small pickling cucumbers for my holiday pickle jars; and long beans for my Asian-to-new-Californian dishes. Together these two vendors supplement each other and pay tribute to the marriage of Asian and Mediterranean culinary ingredients in California’s hot and prolific Central Valley. It’s enough to incite a food frenzy and cook up something healthful and delicious, such as this hearty yet delicate Hmong-style main-dish soup.

Whether the tomatoes are fresh or canned is a seasonal matter: in summer, choose fresh ones; in winter, use canned ones. Both make a delicious, rich sauce for braising meatballs. When using fresh tomatoes, I like to peel them and I don’t bother to seed them, but that is the cook’s choice, depending on time constraints and inclination. The herbs are also a matter of choice: fresh or dried basil (the most usual addition), marjoram, or tarragon all enhance the sauce with a mildly sweet herbal presence; oregano or bay add a more assertive flavor. Spaghetti is traditional for this everyday, home-style dish, but other shapes, such as bow ties, small rigatoni, or penne, will also capture and hold the sauce as the pasta is lifted from plate to mouth. For the meatballs, I like to use my polpette, because their cheese centers add an extra oomph to the dish. But you can also use meatballs fashioned from either sweet Italian or Tuscan sausage with good results.

In the annals of folk medicine, watercress soup is said to be good for soothing a dry throat or for when a general system-cleansing tonic is needed. Here, the nip and pep of watercress infuses chicken broth made rich with slivers of shiitake mushroom and plump sausage-filled wontons to produce a new take on wonton soup that is both healthful and delicious. Hydroponic watercress, meaning watercress grown in water and without soil, closely resembles watercress you might pick alongside a running stream in spring, but it has finer, more delicate stems and far less dirt and sand on its leaves. It is often available year-round in supermarket produce sections.

Minestrone has a long history in Italian cuisine and, not surprisingly, many interpretations. Old tales recount how Roman soldiers lived on a diet of minestrone and chickpeas, a strange assertion since many of the soup’s classic ingredients—tomatoes, potatoes, beans—are New World foods that were not available at the time. By the end of the sixteenth century, the core concept had become a tasty mixture of vegetables, including dried beans, with pasta and/or potatoes. If you can find them, use borlotti (cranberry) beans, a specialty of Tuscany. Swirling a pesto of arugula, rather than the more prosaic basil, into the minestrone imparts a refreshing change. Other unusual elements in the soup are a tiny spritz of vinegar and the use of shallot instead of garlic. The pesto is also good for dolloping on plain boiled potatoes or a simply cooked fish fillet or chicken breast, or on bruschetta, for serving as an appetizer.

A glory of black beans, in addition to such qualities as their beauty and healthfulness, is that they don’t need to be presoaked: they easily yield to softening when boiled straightaway. Then, they are ready to accept all manner of embellishments, such as sausage, Mexican spices, and sweet-sour-hot chipotle cream.

Homemade broth makes a world of difference for the better in any dish that calls for chicken broth. Happily, a light and flavorful one can be made with only chicken backs and wings and water, no other elements—carrots, onions, celery, herbs—required, and briefly simmered for one unattended hour. It’s worth making a large amount to have on hand because it stores well in the refrigerator under the protective layer of fat that solidifies on the surface when it is chilled. If the fat seal is not broken, the broth will keep for 3 weeks in the refrigerator. If you break the fat to use just part of the broth, reheat the remainder until the fat melts completely, then cool and refrigerate it, checking to be sure the fat seals the entire surface again. The broth can also be frozen for up to 6 months. In this case, the fat layer prevents ice crystals from forming across the surface. For thrift, I use backs and wings for broth. But, you can also employ legs, thighs, and breasts, use them to make the broth, then remove them to serve as part of another dish.

Contrary to what you might think, making a fine vegetable broth is not a matter of tossing any vegetable matter into a pot and boiling it up. The vegetables you start with need not be picture perfect, but starchy vegetables, such as potatoes, should not be part of the mix or the broth will turn out murky, and brassicas, like cabbage and broccoli, are also not good to use or the broth will not be clear tasting. Then, don’t stint on the amount of vegetables for the amount of broth you would like to wind up with. One tomato and one chard leaf do not a tasty broth make. There should be enough water so that the vegetables barely float, but not any more. Cook the broth until the vegetables are very soft but not disintegrating; this helps make a clear broth. Following is a mix and method I use to make a good-size batch of vegetable broth that is rich enough to serve on its own as a bouillon or use as a base for any soup.

Season: August to September. This is kitchen alchemy at its most exciting and rewarding: A mysterious-looking brew of dark elderberries, vinegar, and spices becomes a truly wonderful sauce, a secret weapon for the pantry that I don’t like to be without. According to tradition, pontack sauce is best used after 7 years, but I’m hard pushed to keep it for 7 months. Pungent, fruity, and spicy, it’s an unrivaled partner for winter stews, slow-roasted pork belly, or anything wild and gamy. Besides serving this sauce alongside meat dishes, you can add a couple of tablespoonfuls to sauces and gravies. The elderberry season is short and the berries are part of the hedgerow banquet for woodland birds, so don’t delay–gather them when you see them.

Season: July to September. Slow-roasted tomatoes provide a rich, intense base for this, my all-time favorite ketchup. The spices and seasonings I have used are good old-fashioned ones–those our grandmothers would have kept in their kitchens. However, if you like, you can fire it up by adding a couple of teaspoonfuls of ground chiles. Don’t expect the ketchup to be the same color as a commercial variety; it will be a warm orangey red color.

Season: Late May to June. The sweetly scented, creamy-white flowers of the elder tree appear in abundance in hedgerows, scrublands, woodlands, and wastelands at the beginning of summer. The fresh flowers make a terrific aromatic cordial. They are best gathered just as the many tiny buds are beginning to open and some are still closed. Gather on a warm, dry day (never when wet), checking that the perfume is fresh and pleasing. Trees do differ, and you will soon get to know the good ones. Remember to leave some flowers to develop into berries for picking later in the year. This recipe is based on one from the River Cottage archives; it’s sharp and lemony and makes a truly thirst-quenching drink. You can, however, adjust it to your liking by adding more or less sugar. The cordial will keep for several weeks as is. If you want to keep it for longer, either add some citric acid and sterilize the bottles after filling (see p. 125), or pour into plastic bottles and store in the freezer. Serve the cordial diluted with ice-cold sparkling or still water as a summer refresher–or mix with sparkling wine or Champagne for a classy get-together. Add a splash or two, undiluted, to fruit salads or anything with gooseberries–or dilute one part cordial to two parts water for fragrant ice lollies.

Season: October to January. Spices, onions, and a traditional malty ale give this robust, pub-style chutney plenty of character, while the natural sugars in the root vegetables help sweeten it. It is delicious served with farmhouse Cheddar, crusty bread, and a pint or two.

Season: September to November. Autumn is the season for apples. For centuries, the apple crop has been important, and the apple tree cherished and celebrated for its fruit. Wassailing is an English West Country tradition when, on Twelfth Night of old (January 17), country folk toast and drink to the health of the largest and most prolific apple tree in the orchard for a healthy, fruitful crop the coming season. The sharp and bittersweet qualities of cider give this old-fashioned apple butter a special flavor. It’s a sensational fruity spread to daub over hot buttered toast or crumpets.

Season: June to October. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, whose recipe this is, thinks the secret of success is to pick the raspberries on a hot, dry day, aiming for a good mixture of ripe and almost-ripe fruit, then to make the jam immediately to capture the full flavor of the berries. The light boiling and lower-than-normal quantity of sugar produce a loose, soft-set jam with a fresh, tangy flavor. Low-sugar jams of this type are often called fridge jams (see p. 36). In fact, as long as it is capped when still above 195°F, this preserve will keep well in the pantry. However, once it is opened, you must keep it in the fridge. It won’t last long after opening – maybe 2 or 3 weeks – but as it tastes so very, very good, this is unlikely to be a problem. It’s one of those things you’ll find yourself eating straight from the jar, maybe in the middle of the night! This light, soft jam is fantastic in cakes or sherry trifles or stirred into creamy rice puddings. Best of all, layer it with toasted rolled oats, cream, Drambuie, and honey for a take on Cranachan, the traditional Scottish dessert.

Season: May to August. After a dismal result with my strawberry jam at the 2007 Uplyme and Lyme Regis Horticultural Show, I decided to get my act together and work out a recipe that i could rely on to get me that much-coveted first prize next time. My kitchen soon took on the appearance of a strawberry jam factory, with coded batches piled just about everywhere. I thought I’d nearly made the grade on batch three, but the tweaking for batch four caused mayhem in the jam pan. However, batch five seemed to come alive from the moment the lemon juice was added, and I knew it was going to be just right – bright in color, with some soft whole fruit and, of course, that wonderful, intense strawberry taste. Strawberries are low in pectin. Using sugar with added pectin helps to attain a lovely set and a flavor that isn’t too sickly sweet. Use freshly picked, dry fruit – not too big, or they’ll blow to bits when the jam is bubbling away. However, if you’re using very small fruit, make sure they’re not too hard and seedy.

Makin’ your own stock is a bit time-consuming, but the reward is in the depth of flavor it brings to any dish. There’s nothing hard about the preparation, and it makes your house smell delicious.

Homemade stock is the foundation of all truly great soups and stews. Not everyone has the time to make it, but if you do you’ll find it really makes a difference in your cooking.

Just like the name says, this is the basis—the true mother of all the sauces we have in this book. It is a balanced blend of sweet, savory, spicy, and smoky flavors that acts as our leapin’ off point for creating a world of barbecue sensations. It can even stand alone as a traditional slatherin’ sauce for ribs and chicken. Now being the shameless promoter that I am, I gotta inform you that there’s a fine line of Dinosaur barbecue sauces. So if you don’t feel like jerkin’ around cookin’ the Mutha Sauce, just check out Dinosaur Bar-B-Que Sensuous Slathering Sauce (page 174).