Vegetable Soup

Today I made Soup. “You mean, ‘soup’”, you say.  No.  I mean Soup.

I am not a fan of soup.  I really don’t get it.  My MIL loves soup.  Oh, I am sure she would deny it.  I am sure she doesn’t even notice.  However, she has a vast repertoire of soups, most without names, and throughout winter at least, lunch and dinner are punctuated between Grace and Main with soup.  Sometimes you even have a choice.

It isn’t that I actively don’t like soup.  (I also like my MIL!)  I just don’t get it.  It really doesn’t do anything for me.

But Soup is different entirely.

Today I made Soup.

My parents used to make Soup.  It was a wonderful weekend food (and aroma) in our home during winter.

It would start the week before.  Mum would boil a chicken.  I never liked the smell of a chicken being boiled, but my heart would start to beat a little faster whenever it happened.  To this day I get a little overly excited at the smell of boiling chicken.  A bit like Pavlov’s Dog, methinks.

A boiling chicken meant two things.

Firstly, we would be getting yummy chicken sandwiches for lunch at school this week.

Secondly, one of the large old peanut jars would soon be sitting in the fridge, filled with hot yellow liquid which would magically divide into golden, gelatinous goop and a hard white layer (later skimmed off).

And what did a jar of stock in the fridge mean?  Next weekend we would be having Soup.

Come Saturday morning, Dad would peel and dice the veges – parsnip, swede, turnip, potato, carrot, celery and onion.  He would chop up the celery leaves (oh, they smell so good!).  He would lightly fry off the onion and then all the goodies would go into the stock pot with a couple of handfuls of barley.  (If we were really lucky, sometimes he would toss in alphabet noodles for a treat.  Can you get alphabet noodles anymore?)  The stock pot would slowly simmer and the aroma would infuse the house.

Aaaah.  The smell of home in winter.

The first serving was Saturday lunch.  By the small bowl served at the start of dinner on Saturday night, the flavour was more developed.  On Sunday, it was served with bread.  And on Sunday night, it was thick and stewy as we finished it off.  Unless of course, we had eaten too much already and it needed to be drastically watered down to go the distance.

As a child, I was sick of Soup by Sunday.  (By then I would even have referred to it merely as ‘soup’).  And sadly, although I loved this Soup, I took it for granted.

As an adult it has an almost spiritual aura about it.  The smells evoke the memories of a happy home, a warmth that was not just from the stock pot, a gathering of family.  I lean over the pot to test the balance of flavours and I think of my brothers and sisters.  I wonder with love what they are doing at that moment.  I remember sharing this with them.  The steam feels like a big hug.

I am delighted today.  My husband and all my children – even the baby just starting “solids” enjoyed Soup.  Hopefully, one day, they will also lean over a pot on bubbling vegetables and think of their loved ones.

I am happy, for today I made Soup.

Salmon Crunch Pie

Mmmhmm.  Now this is a yummy taste of my childhood.  In my opinion, Mum just didn’t make this enough. 

This is one of those dishes that you can serve hot and is fantastic cold as well.

Pastry:

1 ½ cups plain four, sifted

1 cup tasty grated cheese

1 tsp salt

1 tsp paprika

½ cup butter

 

Filling:

500g can of salmon

3 x 50g eggs

1 cup sour cream

½ cup grated tasty cheese

2 Tbsp mayonnaise

1 small onion, finely chopped

¼ tsp dried dill

2 drops Tabasco sauce

 

Combine flour, cheese, salt and paprika in a bowl

Rub in the butter

Reserve 1 cup of this mixture.  Press the remaining mixture into the base and sides of a 20cm well-greased springform pan.

Drain and flake the salmon (I also remove bones and skin).  Arrange in the pie crust

Beat eggs and stir in the remaining ingredients.  Pour this mixture over the salmon

Sprinkle with the reserved crunch mixture, streusel style.

Bake at 190-200^oC for 35-40 minutes or until set and golden brown.

Cool 10 minutes before serving.

 

Serve hot or cold with salad.

 

Serves 6 (apparently)

Garbanzo Flan

My sister is a vegetarian.  I don’t know where this recipe came from, but whenever she was coming to visit, Mum would make this.  I wish I had the patience (and organisation) to soak and shell all the chick peas like we used to do.

400g dried chick peas (garbanzo beans)

1 large onion, sliced

2 teaspoons salt

1 Tbsp tahini

2 cloves garlic, crushed

2 Tbsp lemon juice

3 Tbsp vegetable oil

3 medium tomatoes, peeled and chopped

3 medium tomatoes, sliced

10 black or green olives, pitted and cut in half

2 Tbsp roughly chopped parsley

 

Wash the chick peas under running water until the water runs clear.  Place in a saucepan, cover with cold water and soak overnight.  Next day, add the onion and salt, heat, making sure that the peas are covered with water.  Bring slowly to the boil and simmer for 1 1/4 – 1 1/2 hourse, until the peas are tender and the liquid has almost evaporated, skimming as necessary.

Puree the peas in a blender.

Add the tahini, garlic, lemon juice and oil and blend until smooth.  The mixture should be just thick enough to hold its shape.

(Alternatively, push the peas through a sieve, then beat in the remaining ingredients)

Fold in the chopped tomatoes, check the seasonings and then chill, while you make the pastry case.

TO MAKE THE PASTRY CASE

3/4 cup plain flour

3/4 cup wholemeal flour (or a mixture of wholemeal flour, rolled oats and wheatgerm)

Actually, I think my sister would substitute “light flour” for the whole lot…

Good pinch of salt

1 tsp dried mixed herbs

125g margerine (Mum NEVER used margerine in anything.  I think it is probably in this recipe just to be non-dairy, even ‘though Di is veg, and not vegan)

5 Tbsp water

Pre heat the oven to moderately hot

Mix together the flours, salt and herbs.

Rub in the margerine

Mix to a dough with the water

Refrigerate for at least 15 minutes

Roll out and line a 22-24cm flan tin or two small flan tins.  Blind bake for 35 minutes.  Turn off the oven and remove the weights from the pastry  Leave in the oven a further 8-10 minutes to cool.

Spread the filling in the case/s and garnish with sliced tomatoes, olives and parsley.

Serve cool.

 

ETA  I have since been informed that this recipe came from the lady that catered Di’s wedding.  See?  The quality of a recipe is never diminished by sharing.