Tomato Kumato

January 2, 2010

Lentil and Rosemary Soup with Lemon

Filed under: Beans and Legumes, Soup — Tags: , — emiglia @ 1:35 am

After knowing me for a few months, most people replace the typical greeting of, “How have you been?” with the more useful, “Where have you been?” Those who I haven’t seen in awhile tend to get an answer that sounds like a list, and those who I haven’t seen in a very long while abandon the question entirely.

Suffice to say, I move a lot, and it’s been a very, very long time since I’ve been back in my native New York for more than a few weeks at Christmas. This year, all that has changed. I’m back in the land of bagels, lox and incredible pizza from John’s on Bleecker.

Returning home is strange for everyone, I think. I’m watching as my brother, a freshman in college, realizes this for the first time at eighteen: when you leave home, coming back is more like picking up where you left off. Your family may be aware on some level of the fact that when you leave the house, you actually continue living your life, meeting people, making decisions and mistakes, learning things and forgetting others, but when you actually appear at the doorway, your hair in dire need of a haircut and your laundry in dire need of washing, it’s all too easy for everyone around you to send you to the barber, toss you a box of detergent and treat you as though you had never left.

I’ve gotten used to toning down some of the developments in my life when I come home. I know now that some things are better left unsaid, and I’ve stopped vying for my time to speak at the dinner table, instead letting the normalcy wash over me, getting used to what has become the status quo in a place where I used to live. I’m used to having my own space, my own time and, especially, my own kitchen, things that are not the case when I’m living in my parents’ house.

This is one of the last things I made before leaving Paris for New York. It’s bright and delicious and perfectly light for starting those New Years’ diets for all of three seconds. I have several pictures from those last few days, and that’s probably all you’ll get while I’m here in New York, where the kitchen is most definitely not my domain, where I squat on a couch and live out of a suitcase. It’s not bad–just different, although I have to admit that when my cousin came back from Paris for the holidays and asked if I was sorry not to be standing in front of the stove instead of sitting in front of the television, I took pause.

And then I decided that the answer was no. I love cooking, don’t get me wrong, but this isn’t my kitchen, and in New York, my mother does the cooking. I may miss it now and again–that sense of possibility that comes from standing in front of a cutting board, reaching for ingredients without actually being sure what you’ll do. I miss serving what I’ve made to other people and watching as they enjoy it.

I’ll be leaving New York again soon… I always do. But while I’m here, I’ll be letting other people do the cooking: Barney Greengrass, John’s on Bleecker, Vico Ristorante, Artisanal… and, of course, my mother.

Lentil and Rosemary Soup with Lemon (adapted from Running with Tweezers)

1 tsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 cup lentils
6 cups water
1 large rosemary sprig
1 lemon, cut in half, juiced, fruit and juice separated
salt and pepper

In a large stockpot, heat the oil and add the onion and celery. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, 10 minutes.

Add the garlic and season with salt and black pepper. Add the lentils, water, rosemary and lemon, reserving the juice for later. Cover and cook until lentils are cooked through, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes.

Remove from heat and remove and discard lemon and rosemary sprig. Using an immersion blender, purée to desired texture. Stir in remaining lemon juice and season with salt and pepper.

Optionally, you can garnish the soup with olive oil, parsley or parmesan cheese.

November 18, 2009

I’m Sick

Filed under: Chicken, Soup — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 7:43 pm

I’m a lousy sick person… probably because I’m never sick, and I don’t really know what to do with myself when I actually am. I whine and moan and complain to anyone who will listen, going to bed early and taking naps and giving myself all sorts of other leniancies I don’t usually allow (I’m very strict with myself, usually), because I have a runny nose or a hacking cough or itchy, watery eyes (of which I currently have all three. Whine whine whine.)

It’s not for lack of wanting to write that I’ve been absent the past few days: first I arrived back in Paris from Spain, then I had to move into my cousin’s and unpack (a task I loathe almost as much as packing–why do I travel so much, again?) Luckily, with the aid of the Artist and the Musician, I managed to move across three arrondissements in a shopping caddy, but that’s another story for another time.

I started a blog post a few days ago… really, I did. I had good intentions. But then I didn’t have pictures and I didn’t have groceries and I went to visit some friends for the weekend, came back, and started going to full-time Monday to Friday 9-5:30 school. I don’t think I’ve been in school this much since boarding school, and even then I managed to take a nap between my last class and “sports,” which were always either yoga, figure skating, or sports excuse from when I dislocated my shoulder… skating.

I’m losing my train of thought, but I’m going to allow it, because I’m sick. And distract you with this picture.

This is my home now. (Literally… this is the view from my window.)

And this is my soup. It’s nothing fancy or dressed up, nothing that you would serve to anyone else aside from yourself and perhaps any other sick friends who may happen to saunter by. It’s not my favorite soup, but it’s mine: the soup I make for myself when I’m sick, because while it’s easy to promise to make someone soup if ever they should feel a bit ill, it’s not the sort of promise that a lot of people follow through on. And with my new crazy schedule (full-time? seriously? me?), I don’t have time for anything more fancy or even for a run up to the 20th for spicy soup–my favorite 7 euro pho from Belleville, dyed bright red with Sriracha, the instant cure for what ails ya’.

I allowed myself a shortcut (because I’m so lenient): in France, store-bought broth does not exist. Can’t get it. Anywhere. I loathe bouillon, but there is a time and a place for everything, and a quick chicken soup on a weeknight is just the thing. You don’t need much if you use enough vegetables, and if you have the store-bought stock, feel free to sub it in. I will allow it.

Chicken Soup for the Sick and Whiny and Lazy

2 tsp. olive oil
2 onions, chopped
1 rib celery, diced
3 carrots, cut into half-moons
3 half chicken breasts
salt and pepper
1 tbsp. powdered chicken bouillon
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 quart water
1 tsp. dried thyme
2 tsp. dried parsley

Heat the olive oil over a low flame in a stock pot. Add the onion and sweat, adding a pinch of salt and stirring occasionally, 10 minutes. Add the celery and carrots and turn up the heat to medium. Stir occasionally and cook 5-10 minutes, until the carrots begin to color.

Move the vegetables to the side to expose the bottom of the pot, and add the chicken breasts. Season with salt and pepper. Turn the heat up to high and cook until the chicken is browned on one side, about 5 minutes. Turn over and sprinkle the minced garlic over the cooked side of the chicken. Brown the other side as well.

Sprinkle the bouillon over the chicken and add the water. Bring the entire thing to a simmer, then reduce the heat to low, add the herbs, and cover and cook until the chicken is cooked through, about 15-20 minutes. Remove the chicken from the pot and shred. Add it back and serve to whiny sick people.

October 3, 2009

Early Morning Carrot Soup

Filed under: Soup — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 3:54 pm

I’ve always liked mornings.

In recent years, I may not have been around to greet them as much–college will do that to you–but I’ve always liked them. I remember walking to school at 7 am when we lived on the West Side and crossing paths with what seemed to me to be a completely different brand of person: up at dawn, running decked out in head to toe spandex or walking their dogs. I wanted to be a part of it.

I never have been, though: instead, I found my own kind of morning, the kind that reminds me of Holly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, when she says something akin to, “I’ve never gone out this early before, unless it was because I hadn’t been home yet.”

It started at boarding school, nights of staying up studying but mostly not studying, cuddled up in duvets and blankets with greasy paper bags of fourth-meal popcorn, and suddenly seeing the snow outside change color and realizing that the sun was coming up. I still remember wandering through the days that followed in a daze, feeling as though everything was upside down and backwards because I missed that break between today and yesterday.

It continued in college, but in a different way: we worked on a noctournal clock, staying up all night playing Mario Kart and making 4 am runs to 24-hour Tim Hortons, where we would play cards and drink coffee in our pajamas with the rest of the misfits–a bearded man in a yellow poncho comes to mind, a man who had the largest collection of plastic bags I’ve ever seen, one stuffed into another stuffed into another, like so many Russian dolls.

When the sun started to come up, we were always shocked: shocked to realize we had really stayed out so late, shocked by the biting cold of an early Toronto morning. Sometimes, we would just head home and collapse into bed, but more often than not, we would finish off a long night with a lazy breakfast: a few places opened early, and at least one was opened 24 hours. I would order a pot of coffee and something distinctly un-breakfast like. It’s hard to get in the mood for breakfast when you haven’t even been to bed yet.

I had a flashback to mornings like that today, when I wandered home at 9 am after a night of talking and cat naps and watching the sunrise over La Concha bay. I saw my streets–I remember just a few weeks ago, when I had that now-familiar thought that strikes me every time I move somewhere new, “Soon, all of this will be normal for me.” And it is, usually, which is why in the early morning, with a slightly less biting but no less present cold, struck me off guard, my world turned upside down.

Like back in college, I needed something hot and filling, something distinctly un-breakfast like. Something easy.

This soup was thrown together from things that were already in my kitchen… At nine o’clock in the morning, the rest of the world is still asleep you can’t just wander into the grocery store. It’s warm and comforting and slightly surprising from the kick of the spices. I love the way that the carrot juice makes the potatoes sweet.

Carrot and Potato Soup

3 carrots
2 small potatoes or large new potatoes
1 cup carrot juice
1 cup chicken broth
1 tsp. curry powder
1-2 dried cayenne peppers or 1/2 tsp. cayenne chili flakes
1/4 tsp. cinnamon
1 pinch freshly grated nutmeg

Slice the carrots into half moons and cut the potatoes into bite-sized chunks. Add all of the ingredients to a saucepan and heat over medium heat, covered, for 30 minutes. Stir every so often, and add water if the broth becomes too concentrated (this is a matter of taste). When the potatoes are cooked through, carry your bowl to the window and watch the sunrise as you eat.

September 22, 2009

Gazpacho

Filed under: Soup — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 5:01 am

gazpacho

When I was growing up on Long Island in the summertime, my favorite thing in the world was a whole day spent at the beach.

I loved arriving in the morning, towels and swimsuit in hand. I loved playing in the sand and then rinsing off for lunch in the cafeteria. I loved spending the afternoons in the ocean and eating ice cream and playing tennis and doing cannonballs in the pool. I loved coming home at the end of all of it, feeling that extreme fatigue that only a day in the sun and the salty waves can bring and that only a severe amount of icy cold watermelon can cure—for me, all of this, and not just the sandy shore and Atlantic waves, made up the beach.

This is probably why at every beach I’ve been to since I’ve been home, I’ve been horridly disappointed. No one but the friends I grew up with—a bedraggled group made up of all the siblings of three families we always knew—would spend hours in the ocean jumping waves and follow it up with a milkshake. No one would tan while reading trashy magazines and take breaks every five minutes for a dip in the pool. It wasn’t the same, and I didn’t like it.

Not so in San Sebastian. It could be the surfing–yes, my readers, I have been so absent because instead of spending my days in front of the stove as I usually would when there’s this much rain (and there is a lot of rain), I’ve been suiting up in a wetsuit and hitting the beach. It’s still not the easiest thing in the world for me, which is why I take such pleasure in little victories: the first time I stood up, the first time I was able to carry the board without feeling like it was going to fall or I was going to hit someone. The first time I came out of the water without injuring myself (I’ve got countless bruises on my legs, I bashed my head into my own surfboard coming up after the “washing machine” of white water that I used to adore, and last Friday, I got a handsome slice taken out of my face by the nose of the board. I think it makes me look hardcore.)

Most of all, what I like about surfing is the fact that it brings back that feeling of summertime, even if I am heading to the beach wrapped up in a flannel shirt and a fleece instead of in shorts and a t-shirt. I love the fact that every night, when I wash my hair, I find sand and seaweed. I love the fact that every morning my shoulders ache from paddling. I love the fact that I can walk back to work with the smell of salt on my skin. And I love getting home at the end of the day and making it all better with my new version of icy cold watermelon: gazpacho.

I’ve always loved gazpacho: here, we buy it in cartons as anonymous and banal as milk cartons. I go through about two a week myself. But back in Paziols, I made a huge vat of it as an experiment and was greatly surprised to see the kids go through it in one fell swoop: definitely didn’t see that one coming. This gazpacho is in the Andalucian style: the addition of bread makes the texture much more filling and silky. And although I know that the trend back in the states is to eat gazpacho chunky–like a soup-salad hybrid–here in Spain, gazpacho is smooth, perfect for drinking out of a glass after a long day at the beach.

Gazpacho Andaluz
1 clove garlic
1 Kilo tomatoes
1/2 small red onion
1 small green pepper
1 small red pepper
1 small cucumber
1 cup tomato purée
2 teaspoons Sherry
1 teaspoon red vinegar
1 slice stale white bread soaked in water
1 cup extra virgin olive oil (the good stuff!)
salt and pepper

In the food processor, combine the garlic and a little bit of the olive oil with a few pulses. Add the rest of the vegetable ingredients and pulse until smooth but still textured. Add the tomato purée, sherry, vinegar and bread and pulse until the bread is combined with the rest of the ingredients. Stream in the olive oil.

Season with salt and pepper. Serve with a drizzle of olive oil over the top, as well as pepper sauce for those who like it a bit spicy and garnish with cubes of boiled egg or ham.

November 8, 2008

Roasted Tomato Soup

Filed under: Soup — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 5:49 pm

If you haven’t already noticed this yet, I have a really huge thing for all things tomato-related, especially tomato sauce. I like tomato sauce so much that I use about two cups of sauce for half a cup of pasta. Really, I would much rather eat my tomato sauce as a soup, scooping it up with a bit of crusty baguette.

So I did.

Back when the summer tomatoes were still good, I bought a bunch and roasted them with a quartered onion and a few cloves of garlic, their papery skins still on. When everything was nice and caramelized, I dumped it in a pot, squeezing every last bit of that soft, sweet garlic out of the skin, and puréed it with my immersion blender.

I bought a baguette, dumped my tomato sauce in a bowl, and called it soup.

It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Roasted Tomato “Soup”

Note: If you’re not as into pure tomato sauce as I am, this “soup” also makes an excellent sauce for your favorite pasta.

5-6 tomatoes on the vine
1 onion, peeled and quartered
2 cloves garlic, skin left on
1 tbsp. olive oil
2 tsp. cayenne pepper
salt and pepper
1 tsp. dried basil

Toss the tomatoes, onion, garlic, oil, cayenne pepper and about a teaspoon of salt together in a glass baking dish. Roast at 350 degrees Farenheit until the tomatoes have released their juices and the onions are caramelized, about 30-40 minutes.

Remove the tomato mixture from the oven. Remove the garlic and empty the rest of the dish into a saucepan. Use water or a little bit of red wine to deglaze the pan, scraping up any bits. Squeeze the garlic cloves to allow the soft garlic to combine with the rest of the ingredients.

With an immersion blender, blend the ingredients until smooth. Add salt and pepper to taste, as well as the dried basil. Serve with crusty baguette.

November 5, 2008

Turtle Bread

Filed under: Restaurant Reviews, Soup — Tags: — emiglia @ 8:07 am

Turtle Bread is everything I love about middle America: a happy, smiley place that specializes in something and does it well. As much as I secretly (or not so secretly) adore the surly waiters here in France, there’s something about people who love what they do and do it with a smile that is so easy to find in America, and yet so easy to forget once you’re over here in France.

The place itself is sweet and sunny and open. The second you walk in, you are greeted by a table of fresh loaves of bread, wrapped up and ready to go, as well as another of my favorite American standbys, the free sample. If I lived in Minnesota, I’m sure that I would become a regular here, coming to pick up loaves of specialty bread. The ones they had that day included herbed breads, sourdoughs, whole wheats, and even a chocolate bread. (There were free samples of this one… it was delicious. Not too sweet. I could see how it would be perfect with a little cream cheese, fromage frais or even just some demi-sel butter.)

Turtle Bread also does soups, which is the reason that my friend, the bride, and I went that day. She ordered a squash soup and I had vegan minestrone, which was surprisingly flavorful considering the fact that there was no pancetta, no chicken broth and no parmesan cheese. Each bowl of soup comes with a slice of bread, which was also quite delicious. The crust was nice and sturdy: perfect for picking up the last drops. I also ordered a salad, which was dressed lightly with a delicious vinaigrette.

We have specialty shops here in France, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel the same to me. In the States, even chains like this one can feel family-run and friendly. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve never had such a happy bowl of soup.

Turtle Bread

4762 Chicago Ave South
Minneapolis, MN 55407
tel: 612-823-7333

http://www.turtlebread.com/

October 11, 2008

Accidental Hedonist: Indian-Spiced Carrot Soup with Ginger

Filed under: Soup — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 10:57 am

For the recipe for this delicious, healthy and simple soup, head on over to Accidental Hedonist.

September 2, 2008

Carrot-Tarragon Soup

Filed under: Soup, Vegetarian Main Dishes — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 7:18 am

I would pay a lot of money to be served this soup in a restaurant… which is quite frightening considering the fact that it cost me about 2 euros to pay for the ingredients. Eating this soup made me wonder how many times I’ve been tricked into paying 20 euros for something that barely cost the restaurant anything at all… but in the end, I just didn’t care.

I was so inspired by this recipe that it launched a two-week experiment in soups made with my trusty immersion blender… and it also inspired this week’s post over at Accidental Hedonist. I’ve tried several different soups this week and have met a lot of success (don’t worry… those recipes are coming.)

I’ve noticed that often, carrots are paired with ginger to make a soup. The reviews over at Epicurious, where I found the original recipe, suggested adding ginger and garlic to make the soup more flavorful… but for once I decided to forgo the reviews and go with the original, and I’m so glad I did! The sweetness of the carrots combined with the unexpected but complimentary flavor of tarragon was a novel idea. If you’re worried that there won’t be enough flavor, you could consider roasting the carrots to bring out more of their natural sweetness, but I adored the soup as-is.

Carrot-Tarragon Soup (Adapted from Bon Appétit)
1 teaspoon butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
1/2 pound carrots, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 onion, chopped
1 cup water

1/8 cup orange juice
1 teaspoon Scotch whiskey
1 tablespoon dried tarragon

salt and pepper

Heat the butter and olive oil over high heat in a skillet. Add the onion and a pinch of salt, and sauté until softened and slightly browned. Add the carrots and cook together for two minutes. Add the water and bring to a boil. Cover and reduce the heat, and cook until the carrots are soft.

Using an immersion blender, blend the carrots and onions together. Add the tarragon, orange juice, whiskey and a generous amount of black pepper. Cook together over low heat for five minutes. Taste to check for seasonings.

April 10, 2008

The Danger of Using Hyperbole: The Best Soup Ever

Filed under: Beans and Legumes, Soup — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 6:34 pm

I once got in trouble for using hyperbole with the Canadian. It’s a long story that ends with me going from two cheese graters to none and my mother sending us an industrial-grade steel grater through the Post, but I learned my lesson. No more hyperbole.

Except now. Because I have to tell you: this may be the best soup ever. Which will shock all of you when you realize how simple and cheap it is. But first, a sidebar.
A long, long time ago, I used to live in California. San Francisco, to be exact. When I was in the sixth grade, my parents sat us down in our New York apartment and told us we were moving.

I adored San Francisco. I wanted to stay there for my whole life. In retrospect, I believe I would have been very happy there: I dig the whole Birkenstock thing. Although I would probably be a very different person today. For one, I believe the vegetarian thing would have stuck. But that is another story for another day.

This story involves the fact that, although I loved San Francisco, my parents are New Yorkers, through and through, and somewhere in their minds, I think they always knew that the move to California was temporary. And so, we took advantage of our short time there and really saw San Francisco. We went below Mission Street, we went to Angel Island, to Ghirardelli Square… and to Napa.

Napa was my parents’ favorite place of all. At twelve, I was less than thrilled with the prospect of spending the whole afternoon in the car (my brother was going through a period where he experienced extreme motion sickness. Curvy back roads in Napa? Enough said.) But it was all worth it if I knew we would be going to Tra Vigne.

I may have only been to Tra Vigne two or three times, but it is one of the most vivid meals (or combination of meals, I suppose) in my memory. There was the famous “Tra Vigne Chicken,” which my mother has almost replicated 100% with its distinct blend of spices (the secret is cinnamon, by the way). There was the cheese plate that came on a marble slab at the end of the meal with real honeycomb to go with your cheeses. And then there was my favorite: lentil soup.

I have always had odd tastes, I suppose, but from the moment I tasted that soup, I was hooked. Goat cheese was sprinkled on top and it melted in to mix with the lentils, which had retained the perfect texture. I loved that soup.

I had long since forgotten about it, but as I was going through my pantry, trying to find something to make for dinner, I stumbled upon a can of lentils, and the whole thing came rushing back. I called my mother, who had bought the cookbook years ago, but it was to no avail.

“Michael Chiarello? It’s not even worth it. He leaves out all the key ingredients. The recipe for that chicken? It doesn’t even mention the spice rub.”

Damn. Well… onto the experimentation. Onions, for sure. And potato, I think, for the texture. Lentils… wine (everything’s better with wine… and it is a vineyard recipe.) And then I had a strange thought. Cinnamon had been the secret ingredient in the chicken… was it possible? No. That’s crazy. And yet, I still did it.

I don’t know if I was right. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten that soup… I remember the experience more than the taste. I do know that what I created was astounding. I slurped it up for dinner last night, and even though I was stuffed, I couldn’t help scooping a few last spoonfuls off of the serving I had portioned for tonight.

I am not Michael Chiarello. I am going to share. But you will not believe that it could ever be this simple.

Best Ever Lentil Soup

1 onion, chopped
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 glass red wine
2 new potatoes, diced small
1 can lentils, not drained
1/4-1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 oz. goat cheese
Sweat the onions in oil with a bit of salt until they color slightly. Add the wine and scrape all the yummy bits off the bottom of the saucepan. Add the potatoes, lentils, chicken broth and cinnamon. Cook until the potatoes are cooked through and the flavors have melded, about 20 minutes. Turn off the heat and blend slightly with an immersion blender, leaving about half the lentils whole. Stir in more chicken broth if necessary. Serve with goat cheese crumbled on top.

April 2, 2008

Beet-Potato Soup with Roquefort

Filed under: Soup, cheese — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 11:47 am


Dear Reader,

I’m sorry for abandoning you. I have no excuse. I could cite the fact that the Canadian has left, once again, this time for Cannes, which has left me with just little ol’ me to cook for. I could say that my aunt was here all last week, discovering Paris for the first time, but every time I look at the list of posts just waiting to be written up and posted, I know: I’m lazy.

But, dear reader, today I had the fortune of creating a recipe so delicious, I had to sit right down and share it with you. Isn’t that exciting?

While my aunt was here, I had roasted a few chickens for an Easter dinner, and so I had a new vat of homemade chicken stock just waiting to be used. So I went through my list of recipes to try and found this recipe for Chickpea, Ginger and Coriander Soup. This soup may have changed my life. Not only is it astoundingly delicious, but I realized how easy it is to make soup for one. Soup had always been a daunting task, one I never attempted for fear that I would never finish it. But this soup makes two neat servings, perfect for lunch for two, or, as I did, dinner two nights in a row with a green salad.

But that doesn’t tell you what’s up with the pink stuff in the bowl, does it? Basically, this soup reminded me of how much I love my immersion blender. I used to use it all the time for tomato sauce, until I realized I liked the chunks of tomato and onion, and so it was abandoned. After using it to make this soup though, I realized I was in love with it. My immersion blender is magical, taking chunks of odd ingredients and bringing them together in harmony in a bowl. (Wow… snap out of it, Emily.)

This soup created itself. I had bought a pre-boiled beet at the farmer’s market, but had yet to use it for a salad. I’m leaving for the weekend, and so I didn’t want to buy other salad ingredients. I also had some new potatoes left over from Easter. What to do… soup? OK, immersion blender, if you say so.

I boiled the potatoes in some chicken stock from my vat, and when they were cooked through, I chunked and added the beet to warm. I seasoned with salt and pepper, and then the immersion blender took the stage.

What appeared was so perfect and pink that I almost didn’t want to add anything else, but I had planned to throw in a pot of yogurt for some calcium, and I’m so glad I did. Some dried chives (use fresh if you have them) and a roquefort garnish finished it off… and I was free to enjoy my perfectly portioned bowl of soup, one for now, and one for later.

So thank you, dear reader, for not losing faith. This soup has given me the will to delve back into my list of posts to write, and very soon, you shall be hearing from me (and my immersion blender) again.

Love,

Emily

Beet-Potato Soup with Roquefort

1 cup chicken broth
5 new potatoes
1 large beet, boiled and peeled
1 4 oz container plain yogurt
1 tbsp. dried chives (or two fresh)
crumbled roquefort
Bring the broth to a boil and add the potatoes, chunking them to help them cook more quickly. Cook until soft. Add the beet, chunked, and cook until heated through. Remove from heat and blend with immersion blender. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add yogurt and chives. Serve in bowls with roquefort crumbled on top.

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