Simplicity of the Chestnut (Soup)

Okay, I'll be the first to admit that shelling a blanched (or roasted) chestnut is not the easiest task, but in my experience, it is well worth the effort. Roasted chestnuts have only just made their way into the Chicago branch of the Tytenicz family, and thus far, I am the only Tytenicz Chicagoan who consumes chestnuts with gusto rather than with disdain and reluctance. Unlike a walnut or hazelnut, cooked chestnuts are starchy, sweet, and somewhere between soft and crumbly/crunchy. While I love to nibble on chestnuts straight from roasting or blanching, I equally love to throw them into pasta, pairing their sweetness with smoky bacon. And soup! There are only a million and one chestnut soup recipes to be found, most listing chicken stock or rich vegetable stock as an ingredient -- much too fussy for me. The more I learn about cooking, the less I want to depend on any kind of pre-fab stock or broth to boost a bowl of soup. There are places for strongly-flavored chicken stock -- chicken and lime soup; garlic soup; creamy chicken and rice soup. . . So many soup recipes recommend tossing one kind of stock or another (chicken being the most popular) into vegetable-based soups. I adapted to this norm until out of laziness and some sort of defiance, I decided not to rely on a bag of frozen chicken broth. And my sheer snobbishness has trained my palate to abhor chicken broth in its canned form.

After almost a year of writing about food and into my second year of cooking for someone besides me, after seeing the glee on Shane's face when he eats something so simple rather than little fussy vittles that required a plethora of ingredients and three pans of three different sizes, slowly I am re-educating myself to understand food in its simplest form. Perfectly cooked chestnuts, potatoes, carrots, onions, and a touch of celery blended into a velvety smooth potage and served with good quality country bread that has been toasted and buttered -- really, it does not take much to produce quality of flavor. And oh goodness, it fits the bill of simplicity. Let the vegetables speak for themselves, and leave the chicken stock to the chickens.

As for the extra liquid this soup may produce, I call it vegetable broth and freeze it. Admittedly I am still in training, so I may need to enhance my carrot soup sometime.

Before preparing the soup, I took the time to blanch raw chestnuts in a pot of boiling water. To blanch, set the chestnuts on a hard surface, flat side down. With a serrated knife, score each chestnut with one or two cuts made into an X. Simmer chestnuts in a pot of boiling water for 3 minutes. Remove chestnuts, and while they are still warm (but cooled enough to handle), peel the skins off where the cuts were made. For chestnuts that seem impossible to peel or that still have their skin clinging to the meat, use a sharp knife to just peel that baby off. If this seems daunting, pre-cooked and peeled chestnuts found in some grocery stores and specialty stores will do the trick. If I remember correctly, Whole Foods carries chestnuts in their canned bean aisle. If roasting the chestnuts instead of blanching them seems more romantic, About.com has some handy, dandy suggestions and how-to tips.

Chestnut Soup
Serves 3-4

20 raw chestnuts, blanched (or roasted) and shelled
2 tablespoons olive oil 1 large boiling potato or 3 small ones, peeled and chopped
2 large carrots, chopped
1 large onion, chopped
1 slim stalk of celery, leaves and all, chopped
Salt and pepper
3-6 slices good quality country bread
Butter

Prepare chestnuts as described in the above paragraph. Over medium heat, heat olive oil in a soup pot. Add the shelled chestnuts, potato, carrots and onion. Sauté until onion starts to wilt and the chestnuts brown a bit, about 5 minutes or so. Add celery with its leaves and sauté another minute or so. Salt the mixture and stir to distribute evenly. Add enough water to cover the vegetables by an inch, scraping any bits that cling to the bottom of the pot as the water is added. Bring to a boil, lower heat, and let the soup simmer until the vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes. Let mixture cool just a bit (or refrigerate over night), and in a blender, puree the vegetables in their simmering water. Please hold the lid of the blender if the soup is still a little warm as the top may blow from the heat. Blend the soup in batches if necessary. Return soup to the pot, reheat and adjust seasonings with salt and pepper to taste.

Toast slices of bread, slap them with butter, and line the bottom of serving bowls, tearing bread as needed to fit into the bowl. Ladle soup over the bread, drizzle the top with olive oil and serve while still nice and hot.

Any simmering water that is not needed to thin the soup makes a great vegetable broth that can be frozen for later.

A Little Late But. . . Mouth Surgery Recovery Days Four and Five - Too Much Chicken and Not Enough Stock

Perhaps I promised this write-up too soon. Yesterday (Thursday) the internet connection at the office was completely frazzled, and as I told Steve, one of my attorneys, heavens to Betsy I actually had to work all day. My original plan was to squeeze out an update on two ways to use excess chicken in a mouth-friendly sort of way. And now that we are humming and busy as usual this drizzly and chilly Friday morning, I now have the opportunity to even further update my dedicated readers (all four of you, God love you all) on my healing process.

This morning, after taking one train and three busses (2 of them to absolutely no where) only to arrive 30 minutes late for my post-operation appointment, it makes one curse and appreciate the CTA; however, this morning I do believe I cursed the CTA more than I appreciated it. The wonderful receptionists and assistants and my doctor himself were more than understanding when I arrived a little more jangled than I would have liked. Within 30 minutes, my doctor snipped a few stitches, left the remainder in to dissolve by themselves, and declared that I am healing well and to look forward to my deep cleaning in about three weeks. I hope deep cleaning is something akin to a deep tissue massage complete with warm, moist towels and paraffin wax on my hands.

Doubting that my next deep-cleaning appointment at the periodontist’s will involve cucumber slices donning my eyes oddly enough makes me lament a bit that it is no longer crunchy cucumber and juicy tomato season. Alas, it is now the season of bubbling pots of comfort foods that heat the kitchen and cause me to cook in nothing but a t-shirt and running shorts -- the season of winter vegetables waxing.

Oh, woe is me, this past week as I wanted meals that were substantial, comforting and easy to chew. And sometime this week I mentioned that I was heavy on the chicken scraps and low on the stock. Monday morning, a day I took off from work to complete my recovery, I sacrificed my weak, pathetic self to the cold and slight wind only to purchase yet another whole chicken strictly for the delicious stock it would soon give up to my stock pot. While I am partial to the kosher chicken (read: brined chicken) at Trader Joe’s, a Monday morning stroll of almost a mile did not appeal as Jewel is a five minute trip to the end of my block. While I meandered around Jewel, I picked up a small butternut squash, a few sweet potatoes, two red skinned boiling potatoes, a bunch of carrots still with their tops (they make for such a lovely grocery bag as they poke out the top – so French countryside) and a handful of parsley. Oh yes, I also picked up a whole, natural but not kosher, chicken. And one container of Texas-grown, brown Basmati rice and one can of light coconut milk nudged their way into my cart amongst the produce and poultry. Coconut rice pudding anyone?

Humph, no dessert until after the creamy chicken and rice soup I concocted for Monday evening’s supper. Once I started the brown rice on the back burner, I formed the base of my soup by sautéing a mirepoix of hearty carrots, celery, and onion in about two tablespoons of butter. After the vegetables softened a bit, I added two tablespoons of flour and stirred the mixture for a constant three minutes to allow the flour to lightly brown and take on the flavors of the mirepoix. Once the flour was toasted and things were starting to stick a bit to the bottom of the pan, I added roughly two precious cups of chicken stock, scraping the bits that clung to the pan. And from here, oh, let me just type this in recipe form because I know it will be easier on all eyes.

Creamy Chicken and Rice Soup

I used brown rice because it does have more to offer than white rice. If white rice is used, it will, admittedly, cut back on the cooking time of the meal. For convenience sake, the rice can be cooked ahead, refrigerated, and gently reheated in the soup. If this method is so chosen, skip the first step and proceed to the second paragraph.

Makes 2 main dish servings or 4 side dish servings

1/3 cup (raw) rice, brown or white – Basmati does add more flavor
or about 2/3 – 3/4 cup cooked rice (more or less as you please)
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 large carrot, diced
1 large celery stalk, diced
1 medium (thought I was going to say large, eh?) onion, diced
2 cups chicken stock
2 cups milk – 2% or whole for creamiest texture
8 ounces cooked chicken, diced
Salt and pepper to taste
Fresh parsley, chopped

If starting from raw rice, cook rice until al dente, remembering that brown rice will take up to 45 minutes to get to the al dente stage and white rice will take about 15 or 20 minutes. If using already cooked rice, skip this step.

Heat the butter in a medium stock pot. Add carrots, celery and onion, and sauté until onion starts to wilt. Sprinkle the flour and stir constantly for 3 minutes or until flour starts to lightly brown. Slowly pour in the chicken stock taking care to stir enough so that lumps are not created. Bring mixture to a boil, add the cooked rice, cover and lower heat and let simmer until thickened a bit, about 8 minutes. After the 8 minutes or so, turn heat to low. Salt the chopped chicken. Add the chicken and milk to the soup and gently heat so as not to curdle the milk, but to warm the chicken and milk. Salt and pepper to taste, add parsley, and ladle into bowls.

Oh, the butternut squash and sweet potatoes I bought? They both went into a luscious and silky chicken and vegetable cobbler. I suppose you, my darling reader, want a peek at the deliciousness? I suppose I can accommodate, but for heaven’s sake, do not be afraid to make a comment after all my hard work of posting. I post for you, YOU and partially for me. In fact, perhaps I will start commenting on all posts. Mmmm.. yes me, I really enjoyed the soup me, I wish I would make it more often, hmmm?

Chicken and Vegetable Cobbler

Save some time on cooking day and do this in steps. The vegetables can be pre-roasted and refrigerated up to, you know, three or four days. Have some cooked chicken and stock handy. Really, this can be thrown together in about an hour.

Serves 4, unless you are mighty hungry

1 very small butternut squash, peeled, seeded and diced
1 medium sweet potato, diced (peeling optional)
2 large carrots, cut on the bias, about ½ inch thick
1 large Yukon gold or red-skin potato, diced (peeling optional)
Olive oil
1 medium onion, minced
3 -4 tablespoons butter
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 teaspoon Dijon Mustard
3 tablespoons flour, a little more as needed
2 cups chicken stock
1 cup white wine (doesn’t have to overly dry, just steer away from using a Riesling or other super-sweet wine)
8 ounces cooked chicken, chopped and salted
One recipe for biscuits (follows)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Toss butternut squash, sweet potato, carrots, and while potato with olive oil, salt and pepper. In a large, greased casserole dish or on a greased baking sheet spread the vegetables. Roast vegetables until they just start browning and they’re easily pierced with a fork, about 30 minutes. Check after 20 minutes though. Any vegetables that are cooking faster than others go ahead and remove from the oven and set aside. Once vegetables are finished, remove from the oven into a large casserole dish or Dutch oven and turn the oven to 450 degrees.

Meanwhile, over medium heat the butter in a saucepan. Sauté onion until it wilts, about 5 minutes. Add the mustard and flour, and constantly stir until flour starts to lightly brown, about 3 minutes. Add the chicken stock and wine and scrape any bits that clung to the bottom of the pan. Let mixture come to a boil, lower heat, and let it thicken a bit, stirring frequently. The sauce should not be as thick as gravy, and when it just barely coats the back of a spoon, turn off the heat. The sauce will thicken more when it bakes in the oven. While the sauce thickens, prepare the biscuit dough (recipe will follow).

Add the chicken to the vegetables that are patiently waiting in the casserole dish. Stir to mix things up a bit, and pour over the sauce that was so lovingly made. Stir things up a bit more. Cut biscuit dough and place enough pieces to cover the top of the sauce and vegetables. There will be some area exposed – that is okay. There will be leftover biscuit dough; just pop the remaining cut dough pieces into a ceramic dish (or try a cast iron skillet and let me know how it works) and bake alongside the cobbler. The biscuits will be done in about 7-9 minutes (maybe a smidge longer). Pop the cobbler into the oven and bake for about 15-20 minutes, or until the sauce is bubbly and the biscuits are baked through. Do not be afraid to lift a biscuit to check its doneness. Once baked, remove cobbler from oven and let sit for 10 minutes before serving.

And the biscuits:

Yogurt or Buttermilk Biscuits
Courtesy of How to Cook Everything Vegetarian by Mark Bittman

2 cups all-purpose or cake flour, plus more as needed (cake flour makes softer crumb)(I actually used 50% whole wheat for heartier biscuits)
1 scant teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 to 5 tablespoons cold butter (more is better)
7/8 cup yogurt or buttermilk (I used a mixture of sour cream and 2% milk vigorously shaken)

Preheat the oven to 450. Mix the dry ingredients together in a bowl or food processor. Cut the butter into bits and either pulse it in the food processor (easier) or pick up a bit of the dry ingredients, rub them with the butter between your fingers, and drop them again (I chose the finger-rubbing method). Make sure all the butter is thoroughly blended into the flour mixture before proceeding.Use a large spoon to stir in the yogurt just until the mixture forms a ball. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead it 10 times; no more. If it is very sticky, add a little flour, but very little; it should still stick to your hands a little.Press the dough into a 3/4-inch-thick rectangle and cut into 2-inch rounds with a biscuit cutter or glass. Put the rounds on an un-greased baking sheet. Gently reshape the leftover dough and cut again.

Bake for 7 to 9 minutes or until the biscuits are a beautiful golden brown. Serve within 15 minutes for them to be at their best.

Why not serve the remaining biscuits for dessert? Butter and honey are a must.

Mouth Surgery Recovery Day Six - Emilie Eats a Banana

Really, I am much too vain to ever allow public pictures of what I look like as I eat a banana, one tiny slice -- from a Styrofoam cup -- at a time.

Be that as it may, tomorrow I will post updates from days four and five. Please look forward to the ever perplexing, yet all too common dilemma of too much chicken and not enough stock and how to deal with each individually as well as ideas on how to merge chicken and its own stock. (Impossible, may you say! Oh, I make the impossible slightly less so. Do come back and see.)

Mouth Surgery (Recovery) Day Three -- It's Yam Delicious

Though they're both pillars of great dishes (and baked goods in the case of eggs) chicken stock and eggs are starting to bore me. Yearning for something a little more exotic than bright yellow yolks sans my usual piece of buttery sour dough bread, last night I concocted a soup maybe worthy of a tropical island, and at the very least something whose base could not be traced back to a clucking ball of feathers.

I used both yams and sweet potatoes because, well, they were mixed in pre-package form at Trader Joe's. What is the difference between a sweet potato and a yam? Here is a simple answer from About.com. Honestly, it does not matter to me if one tries my concoction with all sweet potatoes or all yams or even with pumpkin. Recipes are for adapting to one's preference, and my preference was to use the roots and tubers I bought.

What makes this soup go from at least it's not chicken stock to holy crap I could eat this even without an excuse is the squeeze of lime and dash of cayenne to finish the soup. To balance the sweetness of the coconut milk and the tubers, I added a dash of toasted sesame oil where I would usually use a couple of tablespoons of natural crunchy peanut butter for both flavor and texture. However, all kinds of nuts (and legumes that disguise themselves as nuts) are on my food no-no post-op list. I suppose I could have just blended the nuts into the soup only to push the soup through a strainer to ensure I got out every single piece of nut that could damage my Franken-gums; or I could go the easy route and take advantage of the toasted sesame oil I have in the fridge. What can I say? Recovery makes me lazy.

Spicy and Somewhat Tropical Sweet Potato and Yam Soup

2 lbs combined yams and sweet potatoes
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
5 garlic cloves, smashed and then chopped
Pinch of sugar (optional, but it brings out the earthiness of the yams)
Salt
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon coriander
5 whole cloves
3 cups stock (chicken or vegetable) or water or a combination of both
1 cup coconut milk (light or not -- I used light)
2 tablespoons natural peanut butter (crunchy or creamy) or toasted sesame oil
Dash of cayenne
Juice from 2 or 3 limes

To peel or not to peel the yams and sweet potatoes -- it is up to you. Knowing I would strain the soup through a fine mesh strainer, I opted to not peel, all in the name of laziness. Whichever method is chosen, chop the yams and sweet potatoes into about 1 inch pieces. Set aside.

In a large soup pot, heat olive oil and add onion. Sauté until onion is translucent, stirring frequently. Add sugar, if using, salt, garlic, yams, cinnamon and coriander to the pot. Stir to coat the yams and allow the garlic to release a bit of fragrance. After about a minute of coating and releasing the garlic's aroma, add the stock, coconut milk and whole cloves to the mixture. Bring to a boil, lower heat, cover, and let simmer until yams and sweet potatoes are cooked through, about 30 minutes. Towards the end, add the peanut butter or toasted sesame oil. Remove soup from heat and let cool slightly.

Once the soup has cooled a bit, purée soup in batches, remembering to hold down the lid of the blender as hot soups will make the blender lid blow. Better yet, just let the soup cool completely before blending. Save some flesh wounds. From here, if you opted not to peel the yams and sweet potatoes, now is the time to strain the soup through a fine-mesh sieve. To be lazy at the beginning means to work harder at the end, unless of course you do not mind pieces of peel floating in your soup. By no means do the peels distract from the soup, rather they do give a bit more of an earthy flavor and interesting texture. However, for aesthetic purposes, I chose to strain my peels from my soup because sometimes the color of this soup turns out a muddy yellow rather than a dazzling orange -- the result of using more yams than sweet potatoes. No matter the color of your soup, it will still have warmth that will make the muddy turn to gold.

Once soup is puréed and sieved, return soup to its pot, reheat, and adjust seasonings. Proudly ladle the soup into bowls. Serve soup with a sprinkle of cayenne and a good squirt of lime juice over the top.

And to my doting husband who commented on what my soup really looked like (all the while pointing to his nose), well, what does your day-old guacamole look like to you?

Mouth Surgery Day Two - Bring on the Stock (Chicken that is)

After what seemed like a full night of restless sleep, I awoke ravenous, checked the digits on my phone, and to my dismay the display read 2:50, still in the a.m. Hunger as in I've never learned how to fast because my growling stomach always distracts me. Hunger as in I have a hankering for ham and eggs over buttery toast. Hunger as in I will not feel satisfied with a mere mango and yogurt smoothie. It was time to whip out the chicken stock I made last night.

Yesterday evening I roasted a kosher chicken, slathered in Dijon mustard and lavender infused olive oil, before simmering the remains with a clove-studded onion, a smidgen of very potent cinnamon, and a pinch of saffron. After a few hours of simmering, I scooped the remains from the rich stock as I ignored my normal nudge to pick at bits of chicken still clinging to the bones. Ahhhh. Home made chicken stock just screams RECOVERY! Who am I to fight the urge?

And so this morning, upon dragging myself from a warm-bodied bed, I eschewed what would have surely been a filling and satiating breakfast of pureed mangoes and whole milk yogurt. I instead pulled from the fridge my freshly simmered chicken stock, a couple of eggs, and some Pecorino Romano. I rummaged through the cupboards a settled upon a hodge-podge of small pastas such as elbow and whole wheat gemelli. Ahhh -- All the makings of a lovely Saturday morning meal. Into a 1 1/2 cups or so of simmering and salted stock and a touch of water went the hodge-podge pasta.

To allow the pasta to cook past its al dente stage would make it easier on my mouth, so I simmered it a good 15 minutes or so, until it was soft enough for me to swallow after, say, three delicate chews. In the last 3 minutes of cooking the pasta (3 minutes and 15 seconds to be exact), I poached two eggs in the simmering stock and pasta, scooped out the eggs once they were to their runny yolk perfection stage, and allowed the scalding pasta and boiling stock to cool to an almost lukewarm. Hot foods are listed as a no-no on my post-operation list of no-nos, as the heat could irritate my Franken-wound.

Cooled stock and pasta went into a bowl where on top I perched the poached eggs, finalized the dish with a few gratings of Pecorino Romano,and it was time to tuck in. As I slurped and uttered pure ecstasy over my simple vittles, I believe I made Shane jealous of my morning meal, even as he chewed the last of his buttery eggs and ham and slathered strawberry jam onto a perfectly browned piece of toast.

With recovery food this tasty, will I ever want to chew again?

Mouth Surgery Day One - Licking the Pudding Bowl Clean

Somewhat early this morning Shane drove me to the Periodontist for a procedure that I tried to put out of my head all this week, yet the details of my surgery still wove their way into my every day dream. I was not looking forward to my gum tissue grafting. A very nice person, unbeknownst to him (or her), lovingly donated tissue from his (her) palate, and I am now the proud owner of not only my gums, but gums from someone who obviously isn't in dire need of chewing.

I emerged from surgery with a lower lip worthy of four Botox treatments, instructions in hand reminding me to only eat soft foods such as eggs, cottage cheese and tuna -- talk about the ultimate Hollywood treatment.

Six hours after my surgery I'm on a pudding mission. Because I can only eat soft foods for a good two or three weeks (oy, no meaty mussels, crunchy chef salads, toasted walnuts next to my runny, runny cheese. . .), after my first meal of softly poached eggs over cooked and mashed Christmas Lima Beans from Rancho Gordo, all lightly seasoned with garlic and rosemary infused olive oil, I wanted something chocolate. Let me clarify: I wanted the taste of something chocolate, and nothing is more fun than to lick the dregs that cling to the cooking utensils and pot. But because it takes me about a minute to figure out how to eat by strictly swallowing and not allowing my tongue to play with my food as I am wont to do, I have allowed the pudding remains to crust and cling to the bottom of my stainless steel pot. :( And now they're too chewy to eat. Chewing is bad, and I should know because in one mechanical motion, I attempted to chew an egg white.

So in my fridge cools the real chocolate pudding -- the one that will slide down my throat without my first squishing it flat against the roof of my mouth and through my teeth with my all-too-curious tongue.

And even if one does not have the excuse I do to eat one's weight in mashed potatoes, milkshakes, and pudding, here is the dark chocolate pudding recipe that I fiddled with a bit to make it more chocolaty and less sugary because, did I mention, I cannot brush my surgical area for, oh, 2 or 3 weeks?

Dark Chocolate Pudding
Serves 4

Ingredients
Scant 1/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 Tbsp cornstarch
Pinch of salt
2 cups milk - 2 percent or whole
1 large egg
4 ounces bitter-sweet (or semi-sweet) chocolate, chopped

Crack egg into a medium-sized, heat-proof bowl. Set aside.

In a medium saucepan, combine sugar, cocoa powder, cornstarch and salt. Whisk to combine, and add milk, gradually, continuing to whisk. Bring mixture to a boil, whisking the entire time. Once mixture starts boiling, lower heat, and continue whisking (just keep your arm in constant motion, no matter what) until pudding thickens, 3 minutes or so.

Once mixture thickens, whisk the egg that in hanging out in the heat proof bowl. Pour the pudding mixture into the bowl, and whisk vigorously until the all is combined. Whisk chopped chocolate into the pudding mixture. Knowing that part of the egg slightly scrambled as the hot pudding mixture was poured over, in another bowl or back into the pot, sieve the pudding through a fine mesh strainer. This step is as much as a pain as reading the word "whisk" so many times in a recipe, yet it will yield a silky finish to the pudding, as will whisking off your wrist. Besides, this will give you the cook more utensils to lick as everyone else has to wait until the pudding cools and sets. From here, either spoon the pudding into six 4 ounce ramekins or just leave it be in a big bowl or pot, cover (ramekins individually with cling wrap, bowl with whatever), and pop the container(s) into the fridge for a few hours to chill. If so desired, to avoid the pudding skin, try pressing cling wrap onto the surface of the pudding. I do not often do this, as I do not mind the pudding skin.

Once chilled, serve as is or with a dollop of whipped cream and/or fresh raspberries (which I cannot eat right now as I have to avoid things with seeds -- strawberry jam, blueberries, bread/cereal made with whole flax seeds. . .).

I'm going back to the couch and putting a cold pack on my jaw.