It’s hard to know what to say about soup. I mean, it’s soup.
It’s a liquid, sort of, but it’s eaten with a spoon. It’s not a
steak, or chocolate, or fancy cheese, or an ice cream sundae. It’s what
people eat when they’re sick or miserable or old, wearing dentures that
clack like sad, weary castanets. Soup is a hard sell. But if I could, I
would eat it every day. Sometimes, actually, I do. I never get tired
of soup. I know that it’s April, and that it’s springtime and so on,
and that we’re rapidly approaching the end of soup season, but I want to
tell you about one in particular, the one I ate every day last week.
Anyway, between you and me, I don’t really believe in soup season. It’s
always soup season. Also, it SNOWED here this weekend. SNOWED.
Before
I say anything else, I feel that I should warn you about the photograph
that follows. It’s just my lunch, and it’s not scary, per se, but as
soups go, it looks pretty intense. In fact, if I stare at it long
enough, I start to worry that the Swamp Thing might surface at any second, leap out of the bowl, and come after me with the pointy end of that spoon.
Which,
come to think of it, probably wouldn’t be that bad, because with him
out of the bowl, I’d have all the soup to myself. And there are always
more spoons in the drawer.
I
am in love with this soup. So in love. I first got the idea for it
last month, during our road trip to San Francisco, when we ate lunch at
Zuni Café and happened to order something humbly described as a
“spinach and green garlic soup.” I didn’t expect it to be anything
special; it just sounded healthy and clean, like something you’d want to
eat after being cooped up in a car for three days. And what the waiter
set down seemed, by all appearances, to be just that. It was a bright,
saturated shade of green - almost lime green, really - and it looked
alarmingly like wheatgrass juice. But it smelled rich and velvety, so I
dipped my spoon. It was mellow and sweetly vegetal, delicate and
earthy, with a soft, musky whiff of garlic. It was delicious. It
tasted, I thought, the way the color green would probably taste if you
could soften it in butter, purée it with stock, and serve it in a bowl.
It was gorgeous in all sorts of ways.
But then, of course, we
had to come home, and San Francisco being some 800-odd miles away, I
started to get a little desperate for that soup. I usually prefer to
focus my desperation on things like chocolate, or cold beers on hot
days, but this was getting rough. So I went out in search of green
garlic. I’d never bought it before, to tell you the truth, and it
required a little education. Green garlic, I learned, is just young
garlic, the plant harvested in its shoot stage, before the bulbous root
end swells into what we recognize as a head of garlic. Outside of
farmers’ markets, it’s not easy to come by, and it’s only available for a
little while, sometime between March and May. Green garlic shoots look
like scallions or small leeks, but they taste like garlic at its most
delicate and sweet. Sometimes their stalks are streaked with pink,
which makes them look impossibly cute, as though they were shy and
blushing. I saw some at Whole Foods a couple of weeks ago, but they
were 12 dollars per pound, so I waited. And then I waited some more.
And then I spotted a few small, slender bunches on one of the tables at
the farmers’ market. And most notably, they were only two dollars each.
So I snatched up three bunches, and then I made soup.
I’m not
usually good at recreating dishes that I’ve eaten somewhere else, but
this time, I had a good feeling about it. I mean, I had spinach, green
garlic, butter, and stock: all I had to do, I figured, was get out of
the way and let them do what they do. So I did. I sliced and stirred,
and lo and behold, there was the soup. It’s almost never
that easy, but I swear, it was. So, to celebrate, I ate it for four
days straight. And then I made a second batch. And so long as the
season stays definitively soupy, and probably even if it doesn’t, I
think there’ll be a third one too.
Spinach and Green Garlic Soup
The
green garlic shoots I’ve been using are fairly small and slim, like
scallions, and they’ve been wonderfully mild and sweet. If yours are
larger, they might be a bit more pungent, but their flavor should mellow
nicely with cooking. And if you can’t find green garlic, I’ll bet you
could get a similar flavor with some regular garlic - much less, though -
and some chopped leek.
Also, if you’re looking for a decent store-bought vegetable stock, you might try this one. I make my own stock when I can, but sometimes, you know, eh.
So this is a handy thing to have in the pantry. Its ingredients are
all natural and non-weird, and unlike a lot of other store-bought
vegetable stocks, it doesn’t contain tomato, which can taste too strong
for preparations like this.
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. unsalted butter
½ to ¾ lb. green garlic, thinly sliced (white and pale green parts only)
Salt
1 qt. vegetable or mild chicken broth
8 to 10 oz. baby spinach leaves
1 Tbsp. crème fraîche
Warm
the olive oil and butter in a large saucepan or Dutch oven over medium
heat. Add the green garlic and a pinch of salt, and cook, stirring
frequently, until it is soft and translucent. Also, as the garlic
cooks, you should notice that its scent changes from raw and sharp to
sweeter and more mellow; that’s what you’re after. When the garlic is
ready, add the stock, raise the heat a bit, and bring it to a boil.
Then adjust the heat to maintain a gentle simmer, and continue to cook
for about 15 minutes. Add the spinach, and immediately turn off the
stove. Let it sit for 5 minutes – not too long, or the spinach will
lose its color – and then, working in batches, purée the mixture in a
blender. (Remember never to fill the blender more than a quarter or a
third full, because the hot liquid will expand when you turn on the
motor.) The soup should be a rich shade of green and very smooth.
Return
the soup to the pot, and place it over low heat to rewarm gently. Add 1
Tbsp. crème fraîche and another pinch or two of salt. Taste, and
adjust seasoning as necessary.
Serve warm or hot, with a drizzle of olive oil or a dollop of crème fraîche, if you like.
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