Soup season
The first properly cold week arrived in October, and with it the yearly return of soup. From now until about March, Sunday afternoon means a large pot on the stove and lunches sorted for most of the week.
I do not really follow recipes for soup any more. There is a basic pattern and everything else is a variation on it.
Soften an onion in oil or butter, slowly, for longer than seems necessary. Add whatever else belongs at the bottom: garlic, carrot, celery, a bit of chilli. Then the main thing, whether that is lentils, squash, potatoes or beans. Cover with stock or water, salt it, simmer until everything is soft. Blend some or all of it, or not at all. Taste, fix, eat.
The variations I keep coming back to:
Red lentil with cumin and a squeeze of lemon at the end. Twenty-five minutes from start to finish and it costs almost nothing.
Roast squash with a little smoked paprika. Roasting first takes longer, but the soup tastes deeper than when the squash is boiled.
White bean and kale with a parmesan rind thrown in while it simmers. Fish the rind out before serving, though it is good to chew on in secret.
Potato and leek, which is the soup equivalent of an old jumper. Nothing exciting, always right.
The real lesson of soup is that it forgives almost everything. Too thick, add water. Too thin, simmer longer. Too flat, add acid or salt. Too much of it, freeze half. I have yet to make a soup so bad that it could not be rescued, which is more than I can say for bread.