An Exaltation of Soups (22 page)
Read An Exaltation of Soups Online
Authors: Patricia Solley
RMENIA
YOGURT-RICE SOUP
PRINZOV ABOUR
Serves 1 to 2
T
HIS SOUP IS
an excellent reflection of Armenian culture, which was forged in Asia Minor, a crossroads of trade routes between the Caspian and Black seas and consequently a battleground over the ages for Assyrians, Medes, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Turks, Russians—you name it. It was in this small spot of the world that cherries and apricots originated—and Armenians developed a cuisine heavily based on those fruits and also on dairy products, meat, grains, butter, and spices.
Prinzov abour
is rich, yet light; soft on the palate; and highly stimulating to the appetite with its sour-minty tang.
R
IDDLE
M
E
T
HIS
Q
UESTION
: What am I?
“He who lacks it, seeks it. He who has it, mistreats it.”
2 cups Beef Stock
¼ cup raw long-grain rice, washed
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon minced fresh mint leaves or ½ teaspoon dried, crumbled between your palms
1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley
1 to 2 cups plain yogurt, depending on how thick you like the soup
1 small egg, beaten
Salt to taste
Finely minced fresh parsley and mint, for garnish
O
P
REPARE
Prep the ingredients as directed in the recipe list.
O
C
OOK
1. Bring the stock to a boil in a large saucepan over high heat,
pour in the rice, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, about 20 minutes, until the rice is tender.
2. While the rice is cooking, sauté the onion in the butter in a small skillet over low heat, stirring often, until golden brown. Remove from the heat, stir in the mint and parsley, and scrape into the soup when the rice is cooked.
3. In a separate bowl, beat the yogurt until smooth, then beat the egg into it. Whisk some hot soup into the yogurt, then whisk the yogurt mixture back into the simmering soup and stir until the soup is heated through. Don’t let the soup boil.
O
S
ERVE
Ladle the soup into bowls and sprinkle with minced parsley and mint before racing it to your patient.
Y
AB
-
TA
-
ÎL
-
NÊ
-
NÂ, OR
“T
HE
M
INT
V
ENDOR
”
(A P
OPULAR
F
OLK
S
ONG
)
Take me home to my own
people,
And a kiss I will allow you,
And bestow upon you riches,
And a bunch of mint, sweet
scented.
There’s the lad who sells the
mint leaves.
How I love those leaves
sweet scented.
If you take me to my mother,
On the lips a kiss I’ll offer,
Treasures rare, too, I will give
you,
And a bunch of mint, O
sheikh Ahmad.
There’s the lad who sells the
mint leaves.
How I love those leaves
sweet scented.
NGLAND AND
F
RANCE
BEEF TEA
R
OBERT
E. L
EE’S
L
AST
S
OUP
This great American general and commander-in-chief of the Confederate Armies retained during his lifetime the habit of eating his main meal at 3
P.M.
—“the old-fashioned hour,” as he called it—and always began it with soup. This could be Mrs. Randolph’s oyster soup, turkey soup, or his favorite tomato-vegetable bouillon with sherry. On his deathbed, however, he supped beef tea: “My dear Genl,” Mrs. Lee wrote on October 10, 1870, to Francis H. Smith, superintendent of Virginia Military Institute, “the Drs. think it would be well for Genl Lee to have some beef tea at once and as I cannot get it at the market before night I send to beg a small piece [of beef].” Alas, General Smith’s offering had little effect on the Genl’s heart: “Robert … always welcomes me with a pressure of the hand,” said Mary Lee as she sat behind him in her rocking chair, and two days later he died.
—
From
A
NNE
C
ARTER
Z
IMMER’S
T
HE
R
OBERT
E. L
EE
F
AMILY
C
OOKING AND
H
OUSEKEEPING
B
OOK
, 1997
Serves 1
T
HEY’RE A HORRIBLE PAIN
to make, but these pure essences pack a huge strengthening punch (for Chinese
Gee tong
, a similar essence, but of chicken). The English version is brown and opaque, tasting like the drippings of a Christmas prime rib that’s been carved—and that I used to fight my brother and sister for shamelessly, dipping into those drippings with small pieces of buttered bread, elbows sharp and territorial over the carving board. The French version is rosy and clear, half the volume of the English version with twice the meat; of course it takes your breath away with its pure intensity. After drinking either, I feel like Pippi Longstocking, Paul Bunyan, and Supergirl, all balled up into one. My grandmother used to make it the English way (unfortunately administering a mustard plaster to my chest at the same time), but now I think the sophisticated French version is superior. Might have something to do with that mustard plaster, though.
NGLISH
B
EEF
T
EA
½ pound boneless round steak, cut 1 inch thick and trimmed completely of fat
Salt to taste
O
P
REPARE
Prep the meat as directed in the recipe list.
O
C
OOK
1. Broil the steak 2 minutes per side. Then, right in the broiling pan, cut the steak into 1-inch squares and put the squares into a pint-size glass canning jar. Be sure to scrape up the bottom of the
pan with one of the squares and get every scrap of goodness into the jar.
2. Pour cold water over the meat to cover, screw on the top, then put the jar into a saucepan of cold water (you can put a brick on the top to keep it steady). The point here is not to cook, but to steep the meat. Turn the heat to low and let the goodness leach out of the meat slowly, over the next 3 to 4 hours.
O
S
ERVE
Pour off the beef tea, discarding the meat hunks, salt it slightly, and serve warm, preferably in a beautiful cup on a tray with silver spoons and linen napkins.
SSENCE DE BOEUF
1 pound boneless round steak, partially frozen, then carefully trimmed of fat and chopped by hand or in a food processor
1 small onion, finely sliced
A few drops of lemon juice
A few drops of Cognac
Salt to taste
O
P
REPARE
1. Prep the ingredients as directed in the recipe list.
2. Mix the chopped meat and onion and place in a quart-size glass canning jar.
O
C
OOK
1. Screw the top on the jar tightly, place in a large soup pot filled with barely simmering water that reaches to the top of the meat inside the jar (put a brick on the top to keep the jar steady), and simmer for 3 to 4 hours, replacing water in the pot as needed to keep the level to the top of the meat.
2. Strain the “essence” carefully—ideally through several layers of moistened cheesecloth—then stir in the lemon, Cognac, and salt.
O
S
ERVE
Prepare a tray with a lace placemat, a flower in a bud vase, and
l’essence
in a delicate cup to be carefully spooned into the mouth of your invalid.
“T
HE
S
ENTIMENTAL
B
LOKE
”
| She never magged; she never said no word. An’ when I speaks, it seems she never ’eard. I could ’a’ sung a nim, I feels so gay! If she ’ad only roused I might ’a’ smiled. She jist seems ’urt an’ crushed; not even riled. I turns away, An’ yanks me carkis out into the yard, Like some whipped pup; an’ kicks meself reel ’ard. | “‘Ere, Kid, drink this” … I wakes, an’ lifts me ’ead, An’ sees ’er standin’ there beside the bed; A basin in ’er ’ands; an’ in ’er eyes— (Eyes that wiv unshed tears is shinin’ wet)— The sorter look I never shall ferget, Until I dies. “‘Ere, Kid, drink this,” she sez, an’smiles at me. I looks—an’ spare me days! It was beef tea! |
| An’ then, I sneaks to bed, an’ feels dead crook. Fer golden quids I couldn’t face that look— That trouble in the eyes uv my Doreen. Aw, strike! Wot made me go an’ do this thing? I feel jist like a chewed up bit of string, An’ rotten mean! Fer ’arf an hour I lies there feelin’ cheap; An’ then I s’pose, I muster fell asleep…. | Beef tea! She treats me like a hinvaleed! Me! that ’as caused ’er lovin’ ’eart to bleed. It ’urts me worse than maggin’ fer a week! ’Er! ’oo ’ad right to turn dead sour on me, Fergives like that, an’ feeds me wiv beef tea … I tries to speak; An’ then—I ain’t ashamed o’ wot I did— I ’ides me face … an’ blubbers like a kid. |
—C. J. D
ENNIS
(1876–1938), Australian writer known as the “Laureate of the Larrikin”