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.
 

Passata di zucca e funghi porcini - Cream of pumpkin and porcini mushrooms

Hi friends, forgive me for being away for so long. I will admit I was tempted several times to post a hurried recipe with bad photos taken on endless rainy days and not much of a story just to let you know I hadn't disappeared into thin air, but then I decided against it, because this is one of the few places in my life were I shouldn't feel like I have to clock in, right?

In between all the pre-holiday craziness and work and just life, I was lucky enough to hop over to NY for a long week end (without kids or husband - a first - but more on that some other time), which required a certain amount of planning ahead and some catching up after, but was totally worth it.

And so now I am finally back to give you the perfect autumn recipe right before winter comes knocking on the door. A recipe that my daughter, who strongly dislikes pumpkin (I know, what is that about???), specifically requested - so that is how good it is. I suggest that even you pumpkin haters out there (if there are any besides my offspring) try it.

If you love the umami of dried mushrooms and love warming soups, check out this recipe too.

Ingredients
1kg pumpkin
20gr dried porcini mushrooms
1l water or vegetable stock
1 onion or 2 scallions
1tbsp olive oil
1tbsp butter (optional for a vegan recipe)
salt
pepper
grated Parmesan cheese (same as above)
pumpkin seed oil and thyme for garnish

Soak the dried porcini mushrooms in a bowl in hot water for at least half an hour before using. Peel and coarsely chop the onion or scallions (or both!).
In a heavy-based pot heat olive oil and butter and sautée the onions. While they are softening, clean and de-seed the pumpkin and cut into cubes. Add into the pot, cook for a few minutes and add the water/stock, the mushrooms and the liquid they soaked in. Cook until the pumkin is tender. Adjust for salt and pepper.
Purée the vegetables until creamy.
Serve with lots of grated Parmesan cheese and freshly ground pepper. I also drizzled over a little pumpkin seed oil and garnished with some thyme.

Potato and porcini mushroom soup

 

 

 

 

There was a time in my life when I woke up every morning to what is considered one of the most breathtaking views in the world. The Dolomites, that unique part of the Italian Alps that turns pink during sunrise and sunset, were so much a part of my everyday life that I barely noticed them outside of my window.

 

I am sure that being a teenager at the time didn't help my indifference to nature, busy as I was whispering with my girlfriends, listening to my Walkman, sometimes doing homework but mostly daydreaming about some guy I had met the day before out on the slopes. In boarding school you rarely stop to smell the roses, to breathe in the fresh mountain air, to look at the silver pine trees or admire the snow sparkling in the sun.

 

Now, however, whenever I get the chance to go to the mountains - any mountains - things are very different. I gasp at the beauty that surrounds me, I rejoice in watching my children run in the tall grass and wild flowers or making snow angels in the winter. I realize those years changed me without me even noticing it. The mountains have stayed within me, in my heart and soul, and few places make me feel so at peace.

 

 

 

 

I already wrote about going back to visit those mountains. Once every few years we visit an old friend. Our kids play together, our husbands talk airplanes (seriously, how many chances are there that your high school bestie will marry a guy who is as obsessed with civil aviation as yours is?) and we reminisce about how silly and boy crazy we were (did I mention the boarding school was not co-ed?) and about the ups and downs of being a teenager. We still giggle and there is still wine, but it is no longer hidden away in a pillowcase inside a shoebox in a suitcase somewhere in the back of our closet.

 

My friend and I also sometimes collaborate. This recipe was part of a project we worked on and I couldn't not share it with you, my friends. It is a recipe from La cucina delle Dolomiti by Dino Dibona and was chosen to allow tourists to easily recreate the flavors of those mountains in their own home.  To make this you simply have to procure a package of dried porcini mushrooms, an ideal ingredient to carry back in your suitcase because they are so lightweight. If, on the other hand, you haven't been skiing in the Dolomites, luckily for you dried porcini are nowadays readily available almost anywhere and although they are pricey, a few go a long way.

 

 

 

 

In this essential and effortless soup the (once) humble ingredients really shine through. In old times people from these valleys used to prepare this kind of meal to fill their bellies and warm their bodies during the freezing months using what was available to them from farming and foraging. Potatoes held well all winter and mushrooms were plentiful in the fall and were then sliced and dried for the colder months.

 

What I loved most about the soup is the incredible flavor these few ingredients can create when combined: its is so much more than the sum of its parts. The texture is wonderful too: the soft, sweet  potato nuggets absorb all that flavor and the mushrooms add a subtle earthiness and chew. Every bite tastes and smells like you are walking through the forest, dark fronds towering over you, your steps softly sinking into the warm, dry mossy carpet.

 

 

Ingredients (4 servings)

600gr/3 medium-sized potatoes
1 liter/4 cups/35 oz. vegetable stock
100gr/3.5 oz. fresh porcini mushrooms or 50gr/1.7oz. dried porcini
50gr butter/about 3tbsp butter (or oil for a vegan recipe)
1 yellow onion

2 garlic cloves

chives, for garnish

 

Peel and thinly slice the potatoes. Peel and finely chop the onion and garlic. Clean and roughly chop the mushrooms if you are using fresh porcini. If you are using dried porcini (like I did), rinse them quickly with cold water and then soak in hot (but not boiling) water for up to an hour. Set aside the liquid when you drain them.

 

Melt the butter in a pot over low heat and add the potatoes, onion and garlic. Sauté for about 3 minutes, mixing constantly.

Pour in the stock, bring to a boil and simmer covered for about 20 minutes.

Add the porcini mushrooms. If you are using dried mushrooms, pour in part of the remaining liquid for extra flavor. 

Raise the heat and cook for another 10  minutes. Garnish with finely chopped chives and serve.

 

 

 

Lentils, lentils lentils (and a soup with Tuscan kale and pancetta turns into a warm winter salad with oranges)

 

 

Lentils are small, lentils are round,
lentils are red, yellow and brown.

I like them in soups and burgers for sure,
I love them as curry, vegan and more!

I like them warm, I like them cold,
I like them fried or a couple days old.

They make sense as a snack, they are perfect in salad,
I love them, adore them and wrote them this ballad.

There may be no scoop
on lentils in soup,
but they still make you want
to jump through a hoop!

And just in case you don't already know,
here are two things about them before you go:
Thing 1: protein, fiber and iron make them healthy,
Thing 2: Italians believe they make you wealthy.

Just try them,
just eat them,
just have some already.
They are good, they are great,
it is never too late!

 

I admit my reading several Dr. Seuss books to my son last night contributed to this post, but lentils also just happen to be something I get childishly excited about.

 

Yesterday, like so many other times, I cleaned a big, bright orange carrot, I cut a couple of stalks of celery, peeled a clove or garlic and an onion and prepared a mirepoix which I sauteed in some olive oil until the little chunks turned shiny and translucent. I added a bay leaf, and a handful of diced pancetta and let it brown slightly before adding the rinsed lentils and water. I lowered the flame, covered the pot and let the magic begin.

 

 

 

A couple of hours and few more cups of water later, the lentils were soft yet still slightly toothsome, the water had turned into a dark, earthy, savory broth and the kitchen was warm and smelled delicious. I added a good pinch of salt and some chopped up Tuscan kale (but you can use spinach, Swiss chard or any other leafy green).

I seasoned it with plenty of freshly ground black pepper and a good glug of extra virgin olive oil. Sometimes I will add some grated Parmesan cheese, but this time it was perfect just the way it was, those little nuggets of smokey goodness from the pancetta satisfying me one hundred percent.

 

The left over soup turned into a delicious salad for lunch, so much so that I am still wondering why I never paired oranges and lentils before. Think slightly warm lentil quenelles,  the chew from the pancetta and the cool sweetness of the orange segments, highlighted by their zest. I think some crumbled feta cheese, small black olives or thinly sliced red onion - perhaps pickled? - would work great in this too.

Healthy.
Delicious.
Filling.

So before I go all Dr. Seuss on you again, just go and make some!

Zuppa di pasta, ceci e cavolo nero or hearty chickpea stew with Tuscan kale and pasta

 

 

The recipe I am posting about today is my personal mishmash of two very traditional Italian recipes: pasta e ceci, a less-known version of the more internationally renowned pasta e fagioli, and minestra di ceci con cavolo nero, a soup that is often served with large, crusty slices of bread rubbed with garlic.

 

The chickpea, or garbanzo bean, is undeniably the star of the show here. This humble legume has been used by most cultures for millenia, the first discovered remains dating back to the Neolithic period. Thanks to the Greeks, the Etruscans and the Romans chickpeas became an integral part of Italian cooking. I admit I find it comforting to think of all the generations that prepared variations of this stew over the centuries. How many mothers and grandmothers served warm, filling bowls of chickpeas and black kale to their hardworking families, perhaps ladled over stale pieces of bread?

 

 

 

 

But back to our recipe.

 

The first, essential step in making both the abovementioned Italian classics is the same: you must remember to soak the chickpeas for at least 12 hours. If it weren't for that one little step, I would probably make this dish much more often that I actually do.  

 

After this, preparations vary. For pasta e ceci (or fagioli) you would normally prepare a soffritto (a mirepoix of carrots, celery and onion) and add some tomato in one form or another (paste, sauce, crushed). When making the soup, some opt for a soffritto, but in most versions the intent is to keep things very basic, letting the flavor of the legumes shine through. You just sautee the garlic (either whole or minced) in olive oil, add some finely chopped shallot or onion and a sprig of rosemary (if you are so inclined), tomatoes never making an appearance.

 

 

 

 

The pureed chickpeas and starch from the pasta guarantee an end result that is as comforting and creamy as any pasta and ceci should be. The wilted, dark and slightly bitter kale leaves however add some much-needed texture and contrast to a dish that is as delicious, soothing and - let's face it -boring as some of the best nursery suppers can be. A good glug of intensely green, fruity, peppery olive oil, lots of freshly ground black pepper and a hefty sprinkling of grated Parmesan cheese will further convince you (if you are still in the least bit doubtful) that this is food fit for grown ups.

 

 

 

Pasta e fagioli

 

 

I spent a lot of my childhood locked in a closet, a trunk, or with a soap bar stuffed in my mouth.

She, on the other hand, always got into trouble, even when it was my fault, because she was older.

 

I spent years following her around and copying her every move.

She spent years figuring out how to get rid of me.

 

I kept her up at night, whispering and making her sing along to songs from musicals. Evita, specifically.

All she wanted to do was sleep.

 

When we were very young we, or rather she, used to play this game where she pretended she was dying and would say goodbye to all her dolls and stuffed animals one by one, in tears. I sat and watched and sobbed, impotent. Finally, she went to her favorite stuffed animal and kissed it goodbye and then gave it to me and said: "my beloved sister, please take care of xyz for me, make sure nothing ever happens to him/her, keep each other company and don't ever forget me". This game made me spiral into a state of desperation and I fell for it every time, even if we played it at least once a week.

 

We fought like there was no tomorrow, I drove her nuts and she could be pretty mean to me. But we were always together, whatever side of the Atlantic Ocean we were living on at the time, no matter what our family nucleus was at any given moment.  Our lives changed pretty often, but we were a certainty for each other, whether we liked it (I) or not (she).

 

 

 

 

 

That is what being sisters means: you are blood sisters and soul sisters, a bond that can never be broken.

 

So sure, we had our differences.

 

She was reserved and kept her feelings deeply buried inside.

I was a chatterbox and wore my feelings out in the open, for the world to see.

 

She was popular and loved to socialize.

I was goofy and painfully shy when it came to my peers.

 

She loved being out there, doing stuff, away from home.

I got really homesick and hated "doing stuff".

 

When we went our separate ways in the summer, I sometimes had to concentrate just to breathe without her. I spent the first part of my vacations away from her crying. One summer we were reunited in London after more than a month apart, me back from the States and she back from a great time at summer school. I was happy, I felt safe again. She hated it, because "seeing you means my summer is really over".

 

But despite our differences, we shared a lot.

 

Bizzare and embarassing memories, for example. Like soaking our wash cloths in hot water and then scrubbing our limbs until they were raw and red, because her seven year old self said it would get rid of germs; or almost falling into a canal on the way home from school when we had just moved to Venice and were experiencing our first acqua alta episode.

 

 

 

 

There was the time in New Delhi that we bought a really cool embroidery set at a street market and were so anxious to try it out, that we cut some fabric from the back of the luxuriously thick curtains of our hotel room while our mother was in the bathroom. She, by the way, just found out about that when we all reunited for my grandmother's memorial service right before Christmas. We had the whole family laughing hysterically with some of those anecdotes, and I'm telling you, it was so good to mix tears of laughter with the tears of grief.

 

 

 

 

And then there was the time we were in a hotel in Salzburg and had such a bad fight that we almost wrecked the hotel room (am I the only one noticing a recurring theme here?). Our mother had gone out to a ball and gave her two teenage daughters some money to get some food and watch a movie in their room. Next thing, the younger sibling was flying across the room and knocking down a lamp and some other decor in the trajectory.

 

 

 

 

If you ask our husbands, they both have stories of their first encounter with the "other sibling" that involves some kind of the physical evidence of fights prior to their arrival. Maybe, and I am neither confirming this piece of information nor denying it, something along the lines of being kicked in the stomach or an arm being twisted and bruised.

 

What can I say? We have had a passionate relationship and have pretty much gotten the fighting out of our systems. Now we laugh together like with nobody else. That initially loud, then totally mute kind laughter that encompasses your whole body and leaves you feeling tired and revived and rejuvinated, all at the same time, when it stops.

 

We are sisters and if I hadn't gotten her, I would've chosen her. She is the reason I wanted another girl, but now that I am blessed with a boy I hope every day that my kids will feel that way about each other when they grow up.

 

 

 

So here is to sisters, and to mine especially, who is about to land here any minute.

 

As the last weeks of cold weather envelop this part of the globe, here is a dish some of us won't be able to enjoy for much longer,  while others on the other side of the globe will just be getting into the mood for. Italian comfort food at its best.

Asparagus stalk gazpacho

Those of you who follow me on Instagram and Facebook already know where I was on Thursday night. F and I and 59,998 other people were hanging out rocking at the stadium with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

And what a night it was: when I got home at 2am my palms were sore and swollen from clapping, my throat felt raw and my voice had dropped an octave. 

On Friday, at my daughters' end-of-the-school-year party, I was not the only parent walking around with a dumb smile on my face and a hazy look in my eyes.  All I needed to hear where a few random words, snippets of a conversation (little girl, 4 hours) in passing for my usually shy self to turn back towards a large group of strangers and butt into their conversation.

"Where you there last night too?".

I was instantly welcomed into their circle, I was one of them. We were special, we had all experienced the magic. We were the chosen ones, who had sung and danced with The Boss during his second longest show ever, 3 hours and 45 minutes of non-stop energy, music, poetry at Stadio Meazza in Milan. We were the ones who had watched him jump up and down like a teen ager, horse around with his fans and band members, shed tears during the tribute to his great friend Clarence. We were there song after song, 33 of them I believe, just broken up by his epic "one-two-three-four". Bruce may be in his early sixties but he has the energy of the kids he pulled up on stage. When he wasn't singing he was playing one of many instruments or running the length of the stage. The man never stopped.

When you go to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, you know you are in for a real show, that you will not be disappointed. You know you will be getting 100% and that is why you leave feeling like you were part of something special, like that 100% was especially for you. And you will walk around like a lovestruck teenager humming his songs for the next week.

Aaaanyway...

Talking about 100%, in my last post I promised I would give you a recipe to use up every last part of that bushel of asapargus you bought the other day at the market. The season for asparagus is short and you don't want to miss out on any of their loveliness.

So here is another green recipe, and by green this time I also mean environmentally. I was watching a cooking show the other evening during which an Italian chef used all the less noble parts of produce, the ones everyone normally throws away, in her recipes and I was fascinated. I did not rememeber her exact ingredients so I mixed up what I did remember with bits and pieces of advice from the Internet and came up with this. It turned out to be more delicate in flavor than I expected, lacking that familiar punch of taste you get from its red cousin, but it was refreshing and light, a different and original take on my all time favorite gazpacho. I will also not pretend it was great fun to peel all the stalks, but it is worth the satisfaction of using them up. Using the plump, fatter asparagus will make this part quicker. We ate ours garnished with previously chopped up hard boiled eggs (I thought of that after taking the pictures, sorry!).

Ginger miso carrot soup

Don't you sometimes wish you could touch up your life a little?

Add some color here, soften some sharp edges there?

Some weeks are a little duller than others. On those days a little contrast wouldn't hurt. Other times stuff just gets on your nerves. How about erasing it with one quick swipe?

Come on, you know it would be cool if you could sometimes  photoshop your day a little.

Keep the basics but tweak them a bit. If energy was low and stress levels high, you would just move a cursor up or down a line until you reached the percentage that suited you best.

  

I wouldn't mind cropping some aspects of my life these days, parts involving desks, meeting rooms, coffee machines, badges and monitors, but unfortunately you need more than a mouse or a touch pad to do that in the real world.

Truth is, I am not big on photo editing either. I get by with the really basic stuff and my limited knowledge  is just enough to try to slightly improve my amateur photography skills. Sometimes the light is so superb that I don't even need to turn to photo editing, but today I had a good recipe for you and a bunch of terrible pictures, the kind you take in a dark kitchen in a rush, with family members hungrily and impatiently waiting around a dinner table. So I decided I could distract you and tell you about the deliciousness of this soup anyway.

  

  

I was smitten with this soup the minute I laid eyes on it. It seemed like the perfect way to a) use up all those carrots I had in the fridge and b) devise another way of getting my kids to eat cooked carrots. They are slightly miso-soup-obsessed so I thought if I just called it miso soup and told them the color came from the miso paste, they would eat it. Guess what? It  worked perfectly and my daughter's jaw dropped when I told her right after she literally finished licking out her bowl that she had eaten carrot soup. That doesn't mean you don't taste the carrots, because they shine through, but every spoonful is accompanied by the tingling flavor of ginger on your tongue, the smoky nutty taste of sesame oil and the umami from the miso paste. It is Japan in a spoonful.

Ingredients

about 2 pounds carrots,  sliced thinly
about 4 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed (or to taste)

1 onion, finely chopped
1 tbsp finely grated /chopped ginger (or to taste)

4 cups vegetable stock
1/4 cup miso paste (the recipe suggests white miso paste, but I only had dark paste so I started with less and added it little by little)

olive oil

toasted sesame oil
2 sliced scallions for garnish (I unfortunately didn't have any)

Cover the bottom of a saucepan with olive oil, heat it and add in the carrots, onion and garlic. Sauté for a while, then add the stock and grated ginger. Simmer covered until carrots are tender, about half an hour.

Blend soup and then mix together the miso paste with a ladel of hot soup . When it has dissolved pour it back into the pot. Taste and add more if you like. Season if needed and then serve in individual bowls, drizzled with the sesame oil and garnished with scallions.

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Tomato chickpea soup with roasted cumin

Where is the time going? Another crazy week at work has come and gone, hand in hand with more snow and another child at home with the flu since yesterday.

A few random questions I have been asking myself in the past days:

Who knew that picking up a report card as a parent would be almost as excruciating an experience? This week my oldest child got her first report card and I’m telling you, that walk down the hall, sitting in front of the classroom waiting to be judged, that feeling of dread, insecurity all came back in a flash. Except this time it involved someone I love more than I loved myself way back when, so multiply it by 100.

When did my children’s social life get more active than mine? I used to be out on the town almost every night of the week and between you and me, partying did not involve toy stores, runny noses, drop-offs and soggy layer cake.

Why is everybody surprised I am still riding my bike in sub zero temperatures? If you ask me it is much warmer biking than standing for ten minutes at a bus stop. And besides, entire countries function daily in this kind of weather.

So, as I mentioned above, temperatures are still below zero here in Italy. This is a dish that works perfectly on our side of the equator, to warm the body and soul but it also works well in the summer heat served at room temperature with a nice dollop of cool yogurt or cream. The recipe I followed actually described this as a quick soup to be made with precooked (or canned) chickpeas, so cooking times were much shorter than mine. Nonetheless, I feel this kind of soup benefits from longer cooking on low heat. Also, the next time I make this I think I will sauté some chopped garlic and onion in the pot before adding the spices and the tomato base.

Red tape, white soup - Cream of celeriac, potatoes and roasted garlic

You know how they say a little sneeze can start an avalanche?

Well on Monday I sneezed…

My first mistake was waiting till pretty much the last minute to get some important paperwork done. This knowing very well for something like, uhm, ten years that this day was approaching. This even if I had started working on the process well over a month ago.

In my defense I would like to point out a few of things:

1. I am normally a pretty organized person
2. I usually don’t leave things to the last minute
3. The immigration officer on the other end of the phone seemed pretty relaxed about deadlines when I called to enquire
4. How was I supposed to know that as of 1 January 2012 the whole certification procedure between bodies of the Italian Public Administrations was going to change? I mean even the guy in point 3) didn’t know! Ok, I live in Italy, I shoulda known better.

Back to Monday:

(scene)

Blonde female puts papers into an envelope with a satisfied smirk (she has after all just solved problem in the above point 4) and fills out the last page of a stack of forms. She pulls out her passport to copy the number and expiry date and lets out a bloodcurdling scream. (Cut)

Yes, my passport is expiring in 3 weeks, when the abovementioned envelope should have been sitting on a desk at immigration containing a valid copy of said passport.

After this horrible Monday-morning discovery, images of a big red stamp reading "deported" loomed in my mind for the rest of the day. Images of my Italian children crying out "Mamma, Mamma" as I am being dragged handcuffed onto an airplane. My husband declaring eternal love and promising he will find a way of getting me back.

A question arises spontaneously: how the heck did I not remember that my passport was expiring exactly in the timeframe of the process required to renew that slip of paper that allows me to live in this country?

Well, the truth is I have a phobia of all things involving red tape. As a citizen of one country with a parent from another country growing up in yet a third country, my situation is sometimes a little confusing. As a person who often feels like she belongs everywhere and nowhere, bureaucracy can get a little intimidating. I am always waiting for that paragraph 10b, subsection VIII to jump out at me demanding a paper everyone else in the country has that totally screws me over because "I am not an xyz citizen" or "I wasn’t living here at the time sir". My phobia is not at all helped by the fact that I live in a country that is notorious, to say the least, when it comes to bureaucracy.

So let’s just say that despite point 1) and 2) above, this is one of the few cases when I tend to push off a problem, to pretend it does not exist.

Maybe if I don’t think about it, it will go away… (girl rocks back and forth in a dark corner with children’s song playing in the background).

Oh, and then life got in the way with birthdays and Christmas and family visiting and then the deadline was suddenly upon me. I always leave extra time for last minute problems or emergencies. But no, when it involved something as important as this, yours truly decided not to count the days and to live in lala land instead.

Idiot!

And that is how the avalanche started and got worse and worse.

The rest of my day was spent on the phone, on the Internet, mumbling and cursing, with a tear or two in between.

Did you know, conveniently, that immigration calling hours are in the morning and Consulate calling hours are in the afternoon? And that I work in an open plan office space? And that the lines are constantly busy and when the line is free you are endlessly transferred to another extention where you have to explain your whole life story again? I am sure my colleagues enjoyed that. And the pigeons on the terrace, where I eventually moved after a few dirty looks.

And did you know you have to make an appointment to even get in to the Consulate? And that the US passport photo format differs from the European size? And that only one out of ten photographers will print in that size? And that this is the era of digital photography so finding a photo lab (what where they even called when they existed???) is practically impossible? And that when you find one their computer has broken down? And when you find another one, they are closing early? And that I had to print out three pages in English from the Consulate's website for the Italian photographer to study before clicking away?

Well, as much as you like a good story, I will admit that at the end of all this I found a place right next to home where a lovely lady studied hard and knew exactly what she was doing (25 to 35mm from chin to top of head, no smiling, white backdrop, no headgear, no strange accessories etcetera, etcetera, etcetera).

And then after searching for the entrance for quite a while and leaving any electronic devices at the office and asking the bar tender next door if he could watch my bike helmet while I disappeared into Fort Knox because it could turn into a weapon of mass destruction if inappropriately used, and getting undressed and storing my lip gloss in a miniature locker and showing my passport and answering questions and being escorted from the elevator I actually got everything done at the Consulate in the matter of minutes with the assistance of very kind and helpful personnel, both inside and out.

And it seems, after searching on line for hours, like the deadline for my permit renewal is actually not as close as I initially read so the man in point 3) had every reason to be relaxed.

So fingers crossed, but it seems that things are looking up.

After a week like this, a nice bowl of warm and comforting soup is all I ask for.

If you have been reading my blog for a while you know about my revelation. This time I changed the ingredients around a bit, getting the creaminess from potatoes instead of flour and a nice little additional boost from the garlic.

It hit the spot!

Porcini mushroom barley soup (zuppa d'orzo ai porcini)

Here is a list of things I will not do at the beginning of this new year:

1) I will spare you my 2011 review post with photos and links to favorite recipes. YAWN. Was that me or you? My point being, I will not bore myself or you (at least not intentionally), so let’s just make a pact: you are more than welcome to browse around this blog whenever you feel like it and put key words into the search box if you are looking for something specific and I will keep linking to past posts here and there so you can discover some "hidden jems". This however doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the many review posts out there, I did. I just can’t be bothered.

2) I am not going to describe what I did and did not eat this holiday. First of all, because I pretty much ingurgitated all life forms present on this planet in the past weeks, animal and vegetable (or fruit in the form of fermented, liquid grapes), so making a list would be pretty unnecessary. Secondly, because you are probably sick of hearing that voice (be it in your head or in every post you have read in the last week) whine "I am sooo full, I ate too much, I think I will explode". Come on, really, you know you loved gorging yourself silly, you could've stopped any time, so just shut up and stop complaining already! And last but not least, because you don’t really care how many friggin' slices of smoked salmon, panettone or turkey I ate, since it is not your tushy that will expand a size as a result. Wait, is that a chocolate-covered-marzipan-Christmas-tree-shaped lump of cellulite on my right thigh or am I just seeing things?

3) I will not write a bunch of NYE resolutions because you just recently read my Thanksgiving list of what I am thankful for and you are still recovering. This is another win-win situation (see point 1): no stifling yawns on your side and no promises to live up to or public failures to admit to for moi in December 2012.

4) I am not posting a 120 calorie detox recipe made with goji berries and seaweed to make you feel better/less guilty. What I am posting is a recipe that is healthy (it includes most food groups: grains, healthy fats, vegetables, protein, dairy), comforting (because it is after all the height of winter for many of us) and easy (you probably don’t want to slave over a meal now that the cooking marathon is finally over). This dish is served in varying forms pretty much all over the Alps and can be made as a vegetarian or even a vegan dish by leaving out respectively one or two ingredients at most.

And...I wish you all a very Happy New Year! May 2012 be all you hoped for and thank you for following me into the new year.

Ingredients

500gr pearl barley

dried porcini mushrooms (small to medium sized bag)

100gr smoked pancetta or bacon

2 small or 1 large carrot

2 celery stalks

1 small onion

1 or 2 garlic cloves

5 cups ca. of vegetable stock

a handful of chopped fresh parsley

olive oil

Parmesan cheese

pepper

Pour enough olive oil into a pot to cover the bottom. Soak the dried mushrooms (a small bag will take you a long way) in a bowl with hot water, making sure you just cover them. Cut the garlic into large pieces (or mince it if you like a stronger flavor) and prepare a roughly chopped mirepoix with the onion, celery and carrots and cook until toothsome. I bought pre-diced smoked pancetta but you can just as easily chop up slices of bacon or ham if you have them handy. Cook with the vegetables until golden brown and then add in the barley, letting in toast in the hot oil for a couple of minutes. By now the mushrooms should have softened so you can squeeze out the excess liquid, making sure you do not discard it! It will give to the soup extra flavor. Roughly chop the mushrooms, add them in with the rest and pour in the soaking liquid and about 5 cups of water, depending on how thick and hearty you like your soup. Simmer for about 20 minutes, until the barley is cooked through and serve with a drizzle of olive oil, freshly ground black pepper, chopped parsley and a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese. Skip the Parmesan cheese and/or the pancetta if you are making a vegetarian or vegan soup.

Oriental wisdom: one chicken, two meals for the body and soul

It is a real grey, wet Sunday. Rain, rain, rain.

As I am sitting in front of my computer sorting through the recipes I have lined up for you, I am listening to my kids playing in the other room. There is squealing and laughter. I hear some loud sounds, then a thud. More laughter. And then come the tears and shouting, one of the many fights between siblings that take place every hour at our house. I just checked on them a few minutes ago and restored the peace. I am not getting up again, they have to learn to sort things out on their own.

A car passes outside my window. I hear the water from a puddle splashing onto the sidewalk. It is good to be home. I listen to the familiar sound of the referee's whistle and the audience chanting and cheering on TV as F. lies on the couch in the living room watching the Sunday game.

Half of Italy is underwater this today, not just Venice. The levels of the Po river are rising alarmingly and many cities in Piedmont are at risk. Liguria, Genoa in particular, is on its knees. Hundreds of people are working and digging, the city is reacting. This will not bring back the people who died, it will not give the two children back the life that lay ahead of them. That is how the world goes. Some of us sit in the warmth and safety of our homes while others grieve the loss of their loved ones. Unfortunately this happens every day, everywhere.

But for today my thoughts go out to those families. In Genoa, in Naples, in Thailand.

This recipe warms the body, the heart, the soul. The chicken is tender, the broth savory and complex. On the first day, it is delicous on the rice you serve with the chicken. The second day it reaches a whole new level as a soup in its own standing, with little nuggets of meat, any seasonal vegetable you care to add and some noodles of choice.

It is true what they say, chicken soup for the body and for the soul.

When I saw this recipe posted on Not Quite Nigella, I knew I had to make it. She adapted it from a recipe published by Marion Grasby. Thanks Lorraine, thanks Marion! This has become a new family favorite.

Ingredients for chicken

1 bunch coriander/cilantro

garlic, 10 cloves

black peppercorns, about 10

5 whole star anise

a whole chicken

water

1/2 cup dark soy sauce (I used regular, my chicken didn't turn out as dark Lorraine's)

1/4 cup fish sauce

3 tbsp brown sugar 

rice

Ingredients for soup

Leftover stock (and chicken if you have any left) from chicken

pumpkin (I used some leftover roasted pumpkin)

Swiss chard

bonito flakes

udon noodles

Cut the coriander, roots and leaves, and set aside some leaves for garnish. Place the rest in a mortar with the peeled garlic and pepper and bash until you obtain a paste. In a large pot, preferably cast iron, cook the paste in a little vegetable oil for about a minute. Add the whole chicken and brown on each side. Next add in the soy sauce, the fish sauce, the star anise and the sugar. Then pour in enough cold water to cover or almost cover the chicken (if it doesn't, you can turn the chicken over halfway through).

Let  simmer for about one hour.  In the meantime cook or steam some white rice.

After an hour lift the chicken out of the stock and place on a serving plate and let it cool.

Save the stock and use it to make a soup, adding seasonal vegetables, noodles and sprinkling with some bonito flakes for that extra umami if you have any on hand.

Lorraine also suggests using the stock in the place of water to make a savory rice dish.

Oh, by the way, if you feel like playing a guessing game, hop on over here. Although if you read this blog, you already know the answer!