Stuffed cabbage soup

 

 

Stuffed cabbage soup is what you make when you bought the ingredients to make stuffed cabbage only to realise you just don't have the time to go through the whole process (after you have been pushing it off for three days in a row) and your ground meat really needs using up. And guess what? It is just as good (or at least we thought so), very comforting, warming and full of flavor, and can be ready in under an hour, so I knew you would appreciate if I shared.

I used potatoes because I had some that were starting to sprout, but adding raw rice (about a cup for the amount below) would probably be more fitting, since stuffed cabbage is often filled with ground meat and rice. Up to you entirely, but make sure you add more liquid if you do this, as rice generally absorbs more than potatoes while cooking.

Also, I used pimenton de la Vera because that is what I had and I love the smoky flavor it adds, but using spicy Hungarian paprika - or any other sort - is more than ok since this soup is loosely based on Eastern European stuffed cabbage recipes.

The amounts below are just a suggestion, I usually eyeball them depending on how liquid or spicy or meaty I want the soup to be.
 

Of love and of loss - Chicken Tikka Masala

 

 

This has been an extraordinary week, and as I start writing this post it is only halfway through.

 

Extraordinary as in "out of the ordinary" not " unusually great".

 

F and I spent the first two days of it sitting sweat-drenched in stiff, ceremonial outfits in the midst of a heatwave.
 

On Monday we wore the colors of mourning to say goodbye to an old friend. Needless to say, his departure was unexpected, shocking, painful and happened much too soon.

 

It is very different when you bid your farewell to a person that has lived a long, rich life. It is still extremely sad, but you know it is their time, it is part of the circle of life.

 

When, on the other hand, you sit in a pew surrounded by all the people who were a part of your formative years and you see grown men (and women) cry their eyes out, something is very wrong. You almost hear an unfinished life coming to a screaching halt. There is just grief, no comprehension. You feel the weight of injustice on your shoulders; as the priest talks you remember facial expressions, words said, moments spent together that had gone lost somewhere in your subconscious. While you sit in that church it seems everyone is suddenly a good friend... no, your best friend. You are all connected on an intimate level, you share that pain. Everyone has an air of empathy and well meaning. You mentally promise each other you will never forget, you will share the precious memories, you will be better friends, companions, parents, children from now on. You hug, you exchange tissues and bare a part of your soul you usually never let anyone see. And even if you pretend not to notice them, you feel the cold fingers of fear creaping up around your hairline at the mere thought that it could have been you. For days after you spend large amounts of your time being incredibly aware of and thankful for the beauty that surrounds you.

 

So yes, that was Monday.

Raw from the experience of the previous day and a tad unwilling, on Tuesday we donned the colors of summer. I stepped into a flowy, light dress and F replaced his somber tie with a bright one. We didn't even turn on the radio on the drive up to the wedding, our hearts were so heavy. Then, as we neared the mountains and crossed the border into another country, our mood got lighter and we started feeling almost elated.

The sky was blue, the lake sparkled in the sun and the beauty of the landscape enchanted us. Once more we silently thanked someone/something for the breathtaking world we live in.
 

It did us good to see a new family being created after seeing a broken family the day before. It is good for the soul to counterbalance salty tears of grief with the sweeter ones of sentiment. It soothes to see love, to see different cultures, religions, races come together instead of clashing. It helps to be reminded by an exchange of rings, or an email (you know who you are, thank you), how much love there is in the world and how brief our journey through it is.

 

 

It was wonderful to dig our feet into the sand, to see the white of a wedding day spruced up by the bright, warm colors of Africa. Hips in vibrant prints jiggled to the beat of drums, we did the conga to '80s disco music and during the cutting of the cake, an ancient song bid peace to be upon us. Evenu shalom alejem.
 
I felt guilty on my way to the wedding, like I was not  mourning my friend appropriately. But now I know I did what he loved most: I celebrated the awesomeness that is life, in good and bad. I celebrated friendship, I drank champagne, I danced barefoot in the sand. And by doing this I celebrated his life too.

This one is for you, my friend.

 

 

Indian cooking is a bit like life: a mix of contrasting ingredients and flavors. Spicy, sour, sweet, cool earthy. It is all about balacing these flavors to reach the sublime.

I used to be really intimidated by the enormous list of ingredients most Indian recipes require, but the truth is that once you invest in the basic, pantry-friendly range of spices called for, many favorites are just at an arm's reach.

Recipe from Indiaphile

Minestrone with paprika and lemon juice

Sorry, but I just can't post a real recipe today. Forgive me.

On Monday I was hit by a bout of the stomach flu and am luckily on my way to recovery. Still, I don't really want to eat food, see food, smell food, cook food, write about food or even read about it. Hence, I cannot bring myself to post the recipe I had planned. All I can think about eating these days is warm and comforting soups and sour fruit like green apples and unripe plums. My figure has greatly benefited, if not my blog.

Here is a little soup that came together as a combination of my two yearnings: a chunky vegetable noodle soup with an extra ingredient, lemon juice. I thought I was being original but I later found out the Internet is teaming with recipes for minestrone with lemon juice. Who knew?

Ingredients

assorted vegetables

coarse salt

pepper corns

olive oil

fresh herbs

water

paprika

lemon juice

pasta

I chopped up all the left over vegetables I had in my fridge, from spring onions to carrots, tomatoes and lots of wilted celery. I cut them all up into big chunks and let them bubble away on the stove with water, coarse salt, pepper corns and olive oil. When the vegetables were soft and the liquid nice and aromatic, I added in plenty of sweet paprika and the juice from half a lemon, to give it a nice and sour twist. I also threw in a few handfuls of wilted herbs I had lying around, some dill and some coriander. Finally, I poured in a cup of pastina (smaller pasta for soups), but you can use larger kinds or break up spaghetti or several varieties and throw them in together. It is a great way to use up almost empty bags of pasta. Et voilà, a lovely minestrone with an extra punch of flavor.

By the way, I am still having problems leaving comments on Blogger blogs (mine included). Sometimes they show up and sometimes they don't. So just to let you know, I have been reading all your comments on my blog and your posts.