I Have Soup

 

 

I know. September isn’t for soup. September’s devotion should be saved for its finest gifts to the Earth: tomatoes, corn, peaches, plums. Basil and mint and ALL of the herbs. I am not ignoring–or squandering–those gifts.

But sometimes life and circumstance require soup.

There are details, but they aren’t mine to tell. I can assure you that all is basically a-okay here. Here is not the problem.

Truth of the matter is, sometimes other people need soup. It’s soup they didn’t ask for; it’s soup they didn’t want dropped on their doorstep, if they had their druthers.

When life delivers a swift and foul kick to the gut, some people send flowers. Or money, or time, or pies or comfort in a casserole dish. I tend to send soup. Even in September.

The details, if you care about things like soup: This particular soup is a workhorse; it can be served warm, cold or room temperature. There’s no dairy in it to irritate bellies in revolt and it’s vegan/vegetarian for people who belong to that tribe. It’s laced with spices that are warm and comforting but not spicy. It’s full of nutritious stuff to fuel people who might not be eating much, or who are eating at erratic hours. It freezes beautifully, in case someone is drowning in pies and needs to stash it away for later consumption.

It will do.

It is what I have.

I will stand in front of your house, fully aware of my luck.

Me, who gets to bring the soup.

The person who drew the long straw, when you got the short one.

I’ll hesitate at the doorbell, heavy pot between my hands, knowing that there’s so much more I wish I could offer.

A better week. A better day. A night’s better sleep. A different diagnosis. An answer. A way to see out. A way to see something else than what I know you’re seeing. A hundred barrels of courage. A sliver of peace.

I never have any of those things to offer.

I wonder, when you open the door, if you’ll say: “Hey, asshole. Are you doing this for me? Or for yourself?”

I wonder what I’ll say to that. It’s a fair question. I’ll stumble on it.

Instead, all I have to offer is soup and I feel ridiculous, standing there with soup.

But I don’t know what else to do.

So I ring the bell and hand it over.

Me, who gets to bring the soup.

 

 

 

 

 

Lemony Carrot and Cauliflower Soup

serves 4

adapted very slightly from Melissa Clark

 

1 tablespoon coriander seeds

1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds

2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for serving

2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped

5 medium carrots (1 pound), peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

6 cups water or unsalted vegetable broth (plus more as needed)

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus more as needed

1/4 teaspoon ground pepper

3 tablespoons white miso (I used Miso Master Organic Mellow White Miso, found in the refrigerated section of Whole Foods)

1 small (or half of a large) head cauliflower, trimmed and cut into florets

1/2 teaspoon lemon zest

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, or more to taste

Smoky (ancho) chile powder, for serving

Coarse sea salt, for serving

Cilantro leaves, for serving

**Author’s serving suggestion**–stir some full-fat coconut milk into this soup if you can. It takes a soup that is good to the WOW level, in this author’s opinion.

 

In a large, dry pot over medium heat, toast the coriander seeds until fragrant and dark golden brown, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a mortar and pestle and coarsely crush. (If, like me, you do not own a mortar and pestle, transfer the coriander seeds to a ziploc bag and whack the hell out of them with a cast iron skillet or meat mallet).

Return the pot to medium heat. Add the oil and the cumin seed and heat until the seeds begin to sizzle, about 2 minutes. Add the onion and cook until soft and lightly colored, 7-10 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook for a minute.

Add carrots, crushed coriander, salt, pepper and 6 cups water or broth to the pot. Stir in the miso until it dissolves. Bring the mixture to a simmer and cook, uncovered, 5 minutes. Stir in the cauliflower, bring back to simmer and cook, covered, over medium-low heat until the vegetables are very tender, 10-15 minutes.

Remove the soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Puree with an immersion blender or you can do it in batches in a blender. If necessary, turn on the heat and warm the soup through. Stir in the lemon zest and juice right before serving. Taste and adjust for seasoning. If soup seems too thick, thin with additional broth OR swirl in some full-fat coconut milk, which I really, really recommend.

To serve, ladle the soup into bowls. Drizzle with a little olive oil, a sprinkle of ancho chile powder, a sprinkle of sea salt and some cilantro.

Tagged as: melissa clark's carrot and cauliflower soup, soup for tender tummies, vegan soup recipes, vegetarian soups