Soup

My favorite firework is the Friendship Pagoda. A little bright yellow house spins ’round like a top, emits sparks, and then up pops a pagoda and a little light glows within. My son Joe’s best first-grade friend is named Edison Seto. They make quite a pair. I love to see them out at recess walking with arms slung over each other’s shoulder. Joe has had friends, of course, before first grade, but they were all friends of the family. Edison is the first friend he has made on his own. It looks as if Joe is a good judge of character, for Edison is as sweet as can be. Edison lives in the family’s New Sunlight Market with his parents, grandparents, and tiny sister, Grace. Joe loves to play over at Edison’s. I would too; they get to ride their scooters up and down the aisles, snagging Little Debbie snack cakes for each lap. Edison’s family is from China and this has turned Joe into quite a fan of anything the slightest bit Chinese. This soup was inspired by their friendship and by the fine collard greens from the New Sunlight Market.

Once bound by the southeastern borders, pimiento cheese has slowly swept the nation. This soup was just a matter of time. A big batch of this is perfect for Super Bowl parties and such.

The peas, left whole, pop in your mouth with sweetness in each bite. The whipped salted cream browns underneath the broiler and blankets each spoonful with a froth.

Salsify is the root of a member of the sunflower family, although the plants—also called “goat’s beard”—have a flower that looks more like a giant dandelion. The roots range from inky black to golden orange to turnip white. Salsify carries the nickname “oyster plant” due to its unique flavor, which has often been described as “oystery.” I can’t say I agree, but I do like it. The most popular variety grown for cooking is Mammoth Sandwich Island, which looks like a parsnip. “Scorzanera” is the Godfather-sounding name for black salsify. Both types can be used interchangeably in this recipe. When working with salsify remember to treat it as you would an apple by placing it in water with a little lemon juice in it to keep the salsify from turning brown. Peel it just as you would a carrot, working near the sink, as it produces a milky sap that you will want to rinse off.

When I see the river rise and hear the birds sing, I think of my late dear friend Charlie Jacobs and his tune “Rhythm of Spring.” His association between native produce and more innocent days elevates the memory of spring smells to a sort of romance. He beguiles us. And he tells us that from our soil comes the ingredient we need to find meaning. When I make this soup in the first cool days of spring, I’ll serve it warm, and when the days begin to lengthen and turn warm, I like to serve it cool.

This soup can be pulled together in minutes, and it’s one of the most soul-satisfying things I make. It should be very brothy so the orzo just floats in the rich, lemony broth. The pasta will absorb the broth as it sits, so serve as soon as it’s ready.

I love the refreshing flavor and heat of fresh ginger and this soup shows it off beautifully, especially if you use the full three tablespoons of ginger listed below. It even causes a pleasant burn in the back of your throat. If you prefer a little less assertiveness, use just two tablespoons. Either way, keep in mind that ginger becomes more pronounced over time, so although the soup stores very well, the ginger’s bite will become stronger. Many recipes for carrot and other pureed vegetable soups call for toppings of one kind or another, but I really prefer to let the natural flavors of the soup and veggies shine through, so I skip them. You can always top with a scattering of whatever fresh herb is in the soup, though, which is very pretty and highlights the flavors already in the soup. Be sure to cook the carrots until they are very tender so that they’ll puree to a silky smooth soup.

When I was a kid we grew all our own vegetables, especially calabasa, or squash. LOTS of squash. To be honest, I got a little sick of it (don’t worry—my mom already knows). Then I grew up and figured out a few surefire ways to show off the delicious earthiness and sweetness of summer squash. This soup is one of them; the lemon gives it great tang and the soup is unexpectedly creamy, even though there’s not a bit of cream or milk in it. Be sure to puree this soup in batches—don’t pour the soup over the level of the top of the food processor blade. This soup is brothy before it’s pureed, and it’ll seep out of the work bowl and all over the counter if you’re not careful.

My friends request this recipe more often than any other. I am often asked if it’s a family recipe. I take it as a compliment that people always seem so surprised to hear that I found it in a magazine when I was about twelve years old. I’ve made it so many times since then and it has evolved into what it is today. I think it’s so delicious—and popular!—because of its clear but very flavorful broth. So often tortilla soup is heavy, but this one is hearty without being unpleasantly thick. In fact, I make such a large batch because everyone always wants seconds and thirds. On the rare occasions that I’ve had leftovers, I’ve discovered that the soup keeps very well, and even gets better, stored in a tightly covered container in the refrigerator. The garnishes keep well stored in zip-top bags; keep the fried tortilla strips at room temperature and everything else in the refrigerator. When serving the second day, just place all the garnishes at the bottom of the bowl and ladle the soup over. I use two kinds of dried chiles—ancho and pasilla—because they add more depth and smoky notes to the broth. Use more or fewer chiles depending on how strong you want their flavor to be. For more on dried chiles, see page 96.

This soup is as smooth as velvet and has the warm, orange hue of autumn that always looks beautiful in the soup bowl. The cream adds richness, but you can leave it out for a lighter soup that is nonetheless very satisfying.

A few years ago my wife, Tamara, and I started raising chickens in our backyard in Miami. It’s been a really funexperience and today we have eleven hens! With the coop comes lots of fresh eggs, so I’m always trying to find ways to use them creatively. This hearty onion soup is absolutely transcendent with a poached egg on top. When you cut into the egg, the runny yolk oozes into the soup, making it extra luxurious.

With only a handful of ingredients, this Tuscan peasant soup is deceptively simple, but tastes so rich and decadent, you’d swear there was cream in it. Heads up: blending the soup with olive oil is an important step to produce its velvety texture. The bread becomes suspended—almost like a custard—in the silky tomatoes; the basil adds a subtle perfume. Paired with nutty, gooey-smooth Fontina cheese sandwiches, this comfort food classic pushes all the right buttons.

Carolina Gold rice “grits” from Anson Mills are short, uneven pieces of rice that have been broken during the threshing process. They cook up creamier than long-grain white rice, which can be substituted in this recipe: pulse it in batches in a spice mill or clean coffee grinder for 5 seconds to create the same effect.

Quick-cooking red lentils have a sweet, mild flavor that pairs well with rich paprika.

We had too many seedlings to plant and so Monica also used them for the dessert for a tomato dinner: sweet tomato gelée and cream garnished with the tiny leaves. The tomato soup here also gets an assist from larger stems and leaves that are removed at the end, but very small, tender leaves from young plants (or volunteer seedlings) make a nice garnish as well.

A laying hen is a different animal from the six- to ten-week-old supermarket fryers, roasters, and broilers we usually see. Laying hens are typically sold between one and three years old and create a different sort of stew, deeper in overall flavor but with less succulent meat. If you are using a laying hen, increase the cooking time to about an hour and a half, or until the meat is very tender. It will not be necessary to remove the breast meat during cooking as directed below.

I love any dish that can be made using water rather than stock. It’s a bit of useful laziness that can help establish the clean, pure flavor of the ingredient itself, whether it’s carrots or clams. One key is a slow, patient approach to cooking (or “sweating”) the onions and garlic, creating sweetness and depth. Homemade curry powder keeps well for a few weeks and warms up deviled eggs, beef stew, or hot buttered popcorn.