i-can’t-get-warm-enough cooking, an arctic imperative
by bam
on days when the mercury out the kitchen window is barely visible through stalactites of ice, and, from what i can make out, it appears that the high for the day hovers far below the murky line at zero, there are choices to be made: you can curl in a quivering ball under your strata of blanket; or you can strip off the flammable parts (the wraps with dangling clusters of ignitable threads) and post yourself boldly in front of the six-burner, commercial-grade range that fell into your custody the long-ago day you signed for the old shingled house with the ricketiest of windows.
i opted for six-burner range.
and all through the arctic siege, i cooked anything i could get my mitts on: simmering stews, bubbling soups, sheetpans of roots, just about any comestible that called for application of flame. i might have been fooling only myself, but i pretended it put some level of purpose to my bone-level desire to rub up against any surface weighing in at greater than zero degrees. the imprecise dial that purports to crank the oven all the way to 450 is my most-cherished doodad of late.
and so in a week in which i might have been distraught about the state of the world, and in which i might have been pondering how in heaven’s name to navigate the narrow straits that look to be ahead, i dallied in the kitchen. a wise woman i met the other night let on that as she sees it, her job in dark times is to fill herself with as much light as she possibly can, and then get out in the world to start spilling it.
but first you need to be able to feel the tips of your fingers and toes. and wandering about in the five layers of woollen and fleece and yoga-pant spandex sometimes gets in the way of even apostolic wanderings. so i did what i could: i cooked.
and despite the corona making the rounds, i invited folks in. i might have asked even the mailman had he not spun on his heels before i could stick my neck out the door to extend my relatively-warm invitation. i seemed as hungry for company as i was for the faintest trace of heat. there is something about gathering, even with goosebumps, when trying to chase the cold spell away.
here’s a soup i made for one catch-up lunch, and which i intend to ladle when old globe-trotting cronies gather this weekend to welcome a stray back to the fold.
i-can’t-get-warm-enough tomatoey soup
(aka Provençal Tomato, Basil, Parmesan Soup)
a collective effort with input from Martha Rose Shulman and Ali Slagle and Babs
Time: 1 hour
Yield: Serves four
Martha, one of crunchy-granola cookbook writers I followed back in ancient times (the 1970s), learned to make this soup years ago when she lived in France. She tells us that if there are no fresh tomatoes at hand, use canned. And she thickens with rice or tapioca, which we’re forgoing. Ali chimes in: “What if you could have a tomato soup that was as plush as a cream of tomato but tasted like pure tomato? Enter Parmesan. Simmering tomatoes with a Parmesan rind is like seasoning a bowl of soup with a shaving of cheese 100 times over. It gives the soup an undercurrent of savory fat and salt that only bring out tomato’s best sides. Many specialty groceries sell containers of rinds, but if you can’t find any, stir 1⁄2 cup grated Parmesan into the final soup (or cut off the rind of a wedge you’re working through). Rinds will keep in the freezer for forever, so start saving.” Babs echoes and amplifies both, having plucked the very best bits from each of the kitchen geniuses.
INGREDIENTS
1 – 1.5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 -2 medium onion, chopped
4 to 6 garlic cloves (to taste), minced
1/2 tsp. red-pepper flakes
Salt to taste
2 (28-ounce) cans whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes with juice
2 large sprigs basil, or about 16 leaves, plus 2 tablespoons slivered basil for garnish
1 Parmesan rind
Freshly ground pepper to taste
For the Garnishes:
Garlic croutons (thin slices of baguette, lightly toasted and rubbed with a cut garlic
Grated or shaved Parmesan
PREPARATION
––Heat oil over medium heat in a large, heavy soup pot or Dutch oven. Add onion. Cook, stirring often, until tender, about five minutes. Stir in half the garlic and a generous pinch of salt. Cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 30 seconds to a minute. Add the tomatoes, basil sprigs or leaves and remaining garlic. Cook, stirring often, 15 to 20 minutes.
––Add Parmesan rind and salt to taste. Bring to a simmer, cover and reduce the heat to low. Simmer 30 minutes. Remove basil sprigs and Parmesan rind. Puree in a blender in small batches, taking care to place a towel over the top of the blender and hold it down tightly. Return to the pot, add pepper to taste and adjust salt. Serve garnished with garlic croutons and/or Parmesan, if desired, and slivered basil leaves. If serving cold, which I decidedly am not, refrigerate until chilled.
Tip:
Advance preparation: The soup will keep for two or three days in the refrigerator and can be frozen.
and here’s a peek at that beefy-root stew i made last week as the many snows fell. it fueled me through to the last succulent drop of its leftover bits, which i zapped just the other night when the day had kept me too far from my heat post to start from scratch all over again….
to what do you turn when your insides need warming? is it a cookstove, a voluminous book, or are you more inclined to strap on your snowshoes and slap through the woods?
p.s. i fully realize that opening cans (see soup above) hardly qualifies as cooking, but it’s warm and it’s red, and in my book it qualifies as delicious.
Oh my gosh. You are in an artic freeze. The wicked witch of cold blew her icey breath on the lowcountry so I pulled out the trusty crockpot and emptied my freezer of lingering summer veggies. Okra, corn, maters, lima beans and sausage found their way to the pot.
Added some chicken and taters to make a version of Brunswick Stew.
You are so right about taking to the kitchen to reflect light and chase away the dark. Love that you gathered friends around the table. I met my live alone neighbor at the fence last night and offered her supper to ease the chill.
Ohhhhh, I could listen to you all day. The vernacular of your low-country heart soothes me to no end. Your stew sounds divine. And picturing you at the fence, opening your arms to your live-alone neighbor just warmed me 100 degrees. Bless you.
My discovery this winter: fleece lined pants. Ahhhhh. Am finally warm.
yowzer! that sounds like wearing a teddy bear stuffed in your pants!!! a thought that i do like! i have some flannel lined jeans but i feel rather blimpy in them. fleece lined?!?!?! what will they think of next (it’s probably an idea i am about three decades behind on discovering….)
We opened a can of Progresso tomato basil soup and I made grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch on one of those frigid days. Definitely not as satisfying as your tomato soup, but tasty all the same! I did roast a chicken, make a shepherd’s pie and a lasagna so cozy food was definitely on the agenda along with a couple of really good reads – No Two Persons, Life in Five Senses, and Remarkably Bright Creatures.
it’s all comfort all the time in these parts. and i am ALLLLL about tomato soup and grilled cheese. in fact, i was kinda proud of having decided i was going to make “grilled cheese strata” (an invention) to go with my tomatoey soup on sunday. it’s a brunch and i was sooo cold when i was dreaming up the menu i couldn’t get past tomato soup and grilled cheese. for fun, i should line the counter with campbell’s tomato soup cans. or use them as a centerpiece. with wonder bread and kraft singles. as always your book list sounds grand. i am starting to read a new translation of the Qu’ran. it seems incredibly beautiful. will report back. xoxo
Oh, Heather, I loooooved Remarkably Bright Creatures!!
Oh, I’d give anything to snowshoe through the woods once again… When I was teaching in St. Paul in the early 80’s, I took my science class on a field trip to a nature preserve in the deep snows of January. After listening to a presentation at the nature center, we each were given a pair of snowshoes and were led by a naturalist on a hike through the winter woods. Snowshoeing takes some getting used to, but we all got the hang of it and enjoyed our trek immensely. One of the most intriguing things the naturalist told us was how ruffed grouse survive Minnesota’s deep snow and bitter cold: they “snow roost.” When snow is powdery and around a foot deep, or deeper, a grouse will dive down into it to roost. That sounds mighty cold, roosting in snow, but temps in a snow roost can be up to 50 degrees warmer than outside temps. Well. When the naturalist told us about the winter habits of grouse during the presentation, I sure didn’t expect to experience a snow-roosting grouse in person! Partway through our trek, I was moving along a stretch of unblemished snow when, about 8 feet in front of me, the snow detonated! Out from the explosion flapped a startled grouse! But I guarantee you, I was BY FAR the more startled. Then thrilled to have witnessed such a wonder! I’ve never forgotten it! I don’t think I’ll be doing any snow roosting in our 25 inches of recent snow, but memories of past winter adventures warm my heart. In spite of the cold. xx
LOVE this story! i’ve only snowshoed a few times, but i LOVED it! and what a workout! walking on tennis rackets. your snow grouse story is just marvelous. heavens dumped WAY more on your side of illinois than mine, where not even my toes are buried under a drift. but it is white out there. beneath the cold….
Mmmmm, I can smell that soup and stew as it wafts to the east. With 6 inches on top of 3 already and still snowing, this busy town is quiet and beautiful. Not a soul is out and all the politicians are silenced. After shoveling, an old Cary Grant/Hepburn movie was in order after the required nap. But now I know what I’m going to do with all those tomatoes in my freezer! Thank you, dear one. (my first babe is 31 today!)
oh my gracious! happy birthday to our beloved J!!! and your snowy day sounds heavenly. i didn’t know there was that much snow. i fear my professor has driven undaunted. but he learned to drive here where snow is a wee bit more plentiful than in the capital!
Snow made an appearance here in northern Arizona, dusting the mountains like powdered sugar. Beautiful and welcome here in parched State 48. I know I’m not going to score points with Chicagoans when I say I love snow, but I do.
Going to make that soup STAT because I absolutely love everything about tomato soup. I’ve been learning the art of sourdough and all its yeasty goodness, so what better excuse to bake up a crusty loaf for dipping. Yum!
Snuggle up, dearest bam and keep those toes warm! xox
You’ve all but got me hopping a plane, almost birthday girl!! We love snow too, I promise! And the thought of your bread swirled in that soup…..(I made big fat buttery croutons to float in the red ponds of tomatoey soup.) savor your day and your tomorrow. Xox