Building a Flavorful Vegetarian Soup

Winter has no better antidote than a hearty bowl of soup. On nights when all I want to do is cuddle under a blanket with tea, I often fill a bowl with soup and slurp it instead of chai. The choice there is easy: soup warms your insides and double-serves as dinner.

I've been intently focused on perfecting my soup technique. As you can probably tell, I've been eating a mostly vegetarian diet lately, and when you don't have meat or poultry broth to work with, building layers of flavor becomes much more important. I've found that my best soups are the ones where I really think hard about flavor combinations before starting, and where I ensure that every layer of flavor gets substantial attention, so that it can make as full a contribution to the overall flavor as possible.

Rule no.1 and most important: when building a vegetarian soup, you must roast or saute your vegetables, in stages, before adding liquid. Most vegetables have natural sugars that will remain latent until drawn out with heat. Sauteing or roasting your vegetables will bring those sugars to the surface, and through prolonged exposure to heat and fat, the sugars will start to caramelize. The deeper the caramelization, the more complex the flavor. If you can get those onions, peppers, and garlic to turn a deep amber color without burning, your soup is on the road to deliciousness. I used to prefer saute, because I could do it in the same pan as I eventually made the soup, thus not losing any of the fond (those brown bits of flavor that gather at the bottom of the pan). Lately, I've taken to roasting, as I find it draws out the caramel flavor more slowly and evenly. But there's nothing wrong with a good saute, you hear?

Rule no. 2: to borrow a lesson from Indian cuisine, toasting spices can elevate the flavor of your soup. It's really that simple: by toasting spices, you're intensifying their flavor, and thus, the flavor of whatever broth they are seasoning. Some spices actually change flavor when toasted; nuts, for example, become far more fragrant and nutty as they brown. They're a wonderful addition to soups, by the way. Whole spices can be dry-toasted in an empty saute pan before being ground; toss powdered spices into your mix of oil and aromatics (onions, garlic, carrots, celery, etc) to amplify their flavor. Either way, you won't be sorry. Cooks illustrated has a great spice guide that I was able to find online, here.

Rule no. 3: in the absence of meat or poultry broth, use a mix of good vegetable stock, water, and, sparingly, wine or juice. Canned vegetable stock sucks, but in a pinch, it'll do, as long as you supplement its relatively flat flavor with lots of other things. Usually, I prefer water to canned vegetable stock; I find it makes for a cleaner-tasting soup with more pronounced flavors. Wine is fundamental to my soup-making. It adds much-needed acidity, bitterness, complexity, and umami (which helps round out the other flavors). It should be used sparingly, because its flavor is quite pronounced and even a few glugs in the pot will speak plenty. that said, it's as close to a well-rounded flavor as we've got and should be exploited. For lentil and tomato-based soups, I'll add some of whatever's open in the fridge. For more delicate soups like white bean, squash, and vegetable, I'll use white wine. Orange juice makes a lovely addition to lentils as well as squash, sweet potatoes, and carrots. Apple juice and pears/pear juice play nicely with parsnips, turnips, and rutabaga. These combinations are hardly exhaustive.

A couple more tips:

• dried porcini mushrooms are a vegetarian cook's best friend. Their flavor is strong, meaty, and complex; I add them to about 75% of all the soup and stew I make.
• a drizzle of flavored oil on a bowl of vegetarian soup goes a long way. I especially like white truffle oil and my new favorite, walnut oil.
• the same goes for garnishes. a dollop of yogurt and a sprinkle of herbs or herb croutons adds yet another dimension of flavor, texture, and visual appeal.

The list really goes on, but that's a good start. Have any favorite tips or advice for vegetarian soup-making? Leave them in the comments.

I'll leave you with a truly wonderful recipe for Moroccan Vegetable Soup called Harira that comes from Moosewood Low-fat Favorites. It's one of my all-time fave soups -- highly recommended.

Harira Soup from Moosewood

1 cup onions, choped 4 cups vegetable stock 1 tsp cinnamon 1 tsp turmeric 1 Tbsp fresh ginger root, grated 1/8 tsp cayenne 1 cup carrots, peeled and diced 1/2 cup celery, diced 1 cup canned tomatoes undrained, chopped 1 1/2 cup potatoes, diced 1 pinch saffron 1 cup lentils, cooked 1 cup cooked chickpeas, drained 1 1/2 Tbsp fresh cilantro, chopped 1 Tbsp fresh lemon juice salt and pepper lemon wedges

In a covered soup pot, simmer the onions in 1 cup of the stock for 10 minutes. Combine the cinnamon, turmeric, ginger, and cayenne in a small bowl and add 2 to 3 tablespoons of the hot liquid to form a paste. Stir this paste into the pot along with the carrots, celery, and the remaining stock. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat, cover, and simmer for 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes and potatoes and continue to cook, covered, for 15 to 20 minutes, until the potatoes are tender. Crumble in the saffron. Stir in the lentils, chickpeas, cilantro, lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste. Reheat.

Serve with lemon wedges.

Polenta with Tomatoes, Shallots, and Goat Cheese

Forget Rachael Ray, with her hoarse voice and her annoying little mannerisms. I'll show you a 30 minute meal -- better yet, a 15-minute meal -- that'll have you at the table before you can say "EVOO". It's called polenta, and it's really flippin' easy. You can actually make it more quickly than I can write this post. And while I've included the recipe for polenta with tomatoes, shallots, and goat cheese, you can easily make it with something else. As always, I've listed several variations.

Polenta is basically poor man's food: it's simple, it's cheap, it's sustaining, and it's dead-easy to make. All you need is cornmeal, salt, and water -- ohh, and a fair amount of muscle for all the stirring you'll be doing.

The method is simple: heat the water til warm, add polenta. Stir til your hand wants to fall off, then a little more. For soft polenta, you'll be stirring about 7ish minutes, maybe 8. It's done when it's just past al dente and well-emulsified. For a firmer polenta, you're done when the polenta pulls away from the sides of the pot, about 10 minutes.

Here are some flavor variations:

- Pears, Gorgonzola, a squeeze of honey and some pecans or walnuts - Feta cheese, basil, and tomatoes - Red peppers and pesto - Cheddar cheese (I like white) and apple slices quick-sauteed in a tab of butter - salt and pepper (polenta is awesome on its own) - Mushrooms, parsley, and parmesan (my all-time favorite)

Before I give you today's recipe, I need to give a (long overdue!) shoutout to one of my favorite new bloggers on the scene. Not a food blogger -- thought her posts will totally make your mouth water -- my dear friend Sarah has recently moved back east from the great city of Seattle with some serious talent under her arm and more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She's got a fantastic blog devoted to spoken word poetry, and she will KNOCK YOUR SOCKS OFF with her poems, for serious. I dare you to check out this blog, and you'll see exactly what I'm talking about. Even the title is so frickin' great: Remember When I Had a Blog. Do yourself a favor: add Remember When to your list of reads and prepare to be blown away!

Also, a just-added shoutout to awesome friend-of-friend Ashley, who's recently started a super cool business called Green Eyed Monster. She sells canvas tote bags that are friendly both to your shoulder and to the environment, and they have awesome logos -- you MUST check them out!

Now, the recipe you've been waiting for:

Polenta with Tomatoes, Shallots, and Goat Cheese

2 cups water 1 cup milk 1 cup yellow polenta (cornmeal) 2 shallots, chopped 2 Tbsp. olive oil 1 cup grape tomatoes, halved 1/4 cup of goat cheese, crumbled into bits 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmiggiano-Reggiano cheese

In a small sauce pan, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add shallots, and saute until translucent, about 3 minutes. Add tomatoes, and cook until they look a bit bloated and have begun to soften. Add herbs, if desired -- basil, thyme, parsley, or marjoram would all be lovely. Saute two minutes more, then remove from heat.

Meanwhile, in a medium pot, heat salt, milk and water until hot but not boiling. Add polenta in a steady stream, stirring vigorously to avoid lumps. When all the polenta is added, bring heat up to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and continue stirring constantly for about 7 minutes, until creamy looking. Turn off heat, add butter, and stir to incorporate. Stir in tomato-shallot mixture and goat cheese; stir gently to combine. Serve with freshly-grated Parmiggiano-Reggiano cheese.

Cinnamon Palmiers (and cheat puff pastry)

File this under "things I've always wanted to make but thought I needed an excuse." Not that they're actually so hard, but let's face it -- nothing is easier than simple chocolate chip cookies, or my go-to dessert of late, chocolate pudding. It's just that the recipe is very specific, and one must strictly adhere to it, or else the resulting cookie will be dense and tough. But follow the instructions, and your afternoon tea date will thank you. These cookies are the height of elegance, with their flaky texture and caramelized-sugar crust. They're just the right amount sweet, and very crispy. They might be small and light, but I dare you to eat just one.

As you know, I'm always on the lookout for excuses to tackle culinary challenges. Bryce's PhD soiree gave me one such excuse, so thank you, Dr. J!

On another note, looking at the recipe just now, I realized that it essentially calls for an easy puff-pastry dough layered with cinnamon sugar. Now I've never made my own puff pastry, but I think this is a very user-friendly way to fake it -- so I'll be filing this under techniques; the next time I need puff pastry, I may just make this dough.

One word of caution: do NOT pull a Rivka and start an episode of Barefoot Contessa while your palmiers blacken in the oven, because they don't waste any time. The recipe says to bake for 7-9 minutes, flip, and bake 3-5 more minutes. I baked them for 7 and 4, and they came out black. The second roung, I did 7 and 3, and they were perfect: as you can see, there's a fine line between caramelized and burnt. Beware!

Last thing -- hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving! I'll be off until next week, as I'm traveling for the holiday, but I promise to post some healthy recipes to detox from T-day excess when I return.

Cinnamon Palmiers from Epicurious

* 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour * 1 teaspoon salt * 1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, frozen * 5 to 6 tablespoons ice water * 1 cup sugar * 2 teaspoons cinnamon

Stir together flour and salt in a chilled large metal bowl. Coarsely grate frozen butter into flour, gently tossing to coat butter.

Drizzle 5 tablespoons ice water evenly over flour mixture and gently stir with a fork until incorporated. Test mixture by gently squeezing a small handful: When dough has the proper texture, it will hold together without crumbling apart. If necessary, add another tablespoon water, stirring until just incorporated, and test again. (Do not overwork dough or add too much water, or pastry will be tough; dough will be lumpy and streaky.)

Form dough into a 5-inch square, then chill, wrapped in plastic wrap, until firm, at least 30 minutes.

Roll out dough on a floured surface with a floured rolling pin into a 15- by 8-inch rectangle (with a short side nearest you). Brush off excess flour and fold dough into thirds like a letter. Rewrap dough and chill until firm, at least 30 minutes.

Arrange dough with a short side nearest you on a floured surface and repeat rolling out, folding, and chilling 2 more times. Brush off any excess flour, then halve dough crosswise with a sharp knife and chill, wrapped separately in plastic wrap, at least 1 hour.

Stir together sugar and cinnamon, then generously sprinkle a clean work surface with some of cinnamon sugar and place 1 piece of chilled dough on top. Quickly roll out into a 16- by 12-inch rectangle (1/8 to 1/16 inch thick; if dough becomes too soft, chill on a baking sheet until firm). Trim edges with a sharp knife. Sprinkle top of dough evenly with some cinnamon sugar to cover completely, brushing off any excess. Fold 2 opposite long sides of pastry so they meet in center. Fold in same sides of pastry in same manner, then fold one half over the other (like a book) and press gently with a rolling pin to flatten slightly, forming a long rectangular log. Sprinkle with additional cinnamon sugar if dough is sticky.

Chill on a baking sheet, uncovered, until firm, at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours. Meanwhile, repeat with remaining piece of dough and cinnamon sugar.

Preheat oven to 425°F with rack in middle. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.

Cut 1 log of dough crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick slices with a sharp knife and arrange slices, cut sides down, 1 1/2 inches apart on baking sheet. Bake until puffed and golden around edges, 7 to 9 minutes. Remove from oven and turn palmiers over with a spatula. (If palmiers begin to unroll, gently press to reshape when cooled slightly.) Continue baking until golden all over and sugar is caramelized, 3 to 5 minutes more. Transfer as done (palmiers may not bake evenly) to a rack and cool. Make more cookies on cooled baking sheet lined with fresh parchment.

Dough, without cinnamon sugar, can be chilled, wrapped well, up to 2 days or frozen up to 1 month (thaw in refrigerator).

Cookies keep in an airtight container at room temperature 4 days.

If desired, palmiers can be recrisped in a 300°F oven until heated through, about 5 minutes.

Conquering Macarons

If there is an ultimate test for baking aficionados, it is the very delicate, very complex, and oh-so-French macaron. If you've never had them, here's the best description I can muster: two thin almond-flour-meringue cookies sandwich a restrained but sumptuous layer of cream. The flavor possibilities and combinations are endless. There's something irresistable -- something almost addictive -- about these delicate little cookies, not least of which is the challenge of making them properly. Perhaps that's why I've never bothered to try. Instead, I just take the occasional stroll to Leopold's during my lunch hour, and buy a triple threat -- one chocolate, one pistachio, and one raspberry. Why bother to make'em when they're available down the block?

I'll tell you why. Having read enough posts from other bloggers who make macarons successfully, I've come to understand that there's no greater accomplishment in the baking world than a tray full of perfect macarons. If I'm to consider myself worth my salt, I've got to master macarons.

What about making macarons is so difficult, you ask? Well, first there's the batter: it deflates when mixed, yet is meant to produce airy little cookies. Then there's the piping of the cookies onto the baking sheet: perfect circles is a must, ideally perfectly spaced as well. When made properly, macarons should have a "foot" -- a little rim around the bottom of the cookie that looks especially airy and slightly smaller in diameter than the rest of the cookie. Finally, they should, under no circumstances, be cracked on top.

I wouldn't try these on just any old day, and Friday night was anything but. The Masseys invited D and me to a dinner party; also on the invite list were two law professors and their families, one of whom is a very prominent expert on the US Constitution. I know what you're thinking: who are we to keep such company? Don't worry, we've been thinking the exact same thing. We're still reeling from that dinner party -- the food, the company, even the after-dinner concerts by the children (all fabulously talented musicians). An event like this doesn't happen every day. With special company in mind, I decided to try my hand at tackling a very special dessert.

Lest you develop fantasies in your head of everything working perfectly for me the first time around, think again. Just look at the pictures here -- see all the nooks and crannies? My macarons were cracked all over. They didn't really have much of a foot (though it was bigger than on some other bloggers' first tries, which makes me feel a bit better), and I don't think they had quite the right texture, either. I little too crisp, compared to what I'm used to. But this was round one, folks; consider my primed for the next macaron battle.

And dare I say it? Cracks and all, they were ever the hit.