Soup

As it's a cold, wet day up on the mountain, I thought it appropriate to tell you about my relationship with soup. I'll cut to the chase and say that it's love/hate, to say the least. Let me explain.

My mum is the best maker of soups that I know. She doesn't hold out - thick, hearty bowls that should be called stew rather than soup, with lots of meat, barley, vegetables and other goodies. She also makes the only delicious broccoli soup I've ever tasted, and her mushroom soup is one of those dishes people cook for other people and pretend it's their own recipe. What's not to like? I'll tell you. It's when you know that this is probably all you're having for the rest of the week, and as good as it is, come Friday, all you want is a sandwich.

Fast forward to my life with The Fabulous Man, and the plot thickens. Any conversation with him that involves food, soon turn to Nanny Jessie. Now, if you believe all the stories about Nanny Jessie and food, which I tend to do, you'll be overcome with the feeling of absolute futileness, as try as you might, you will never be even half as good as she allegedly was. She was Maltese (which might be the explanation) and the best cook to ever walk this earth. Or so I'm told. Reportedly, any polite decline of a fourth helping of her food would be met with "What? Don't you like it?", and her question of "Have you eaten?" was highly rhetorical, as it was always followed by "Let me make you something".

I think it was probably during my first week in Australia when I first heard about Nanny Jessie's Minestrone. The most delicious thing ever, it made you swoon and the heavens open up and the air fill with the singing of angels. Various descriptions of the sort do the rounds in the family, so I guess they can't be all exaggerating. Right, I thought, naively, we'll show them minestrone. I researched all the best sites and blogs, and came up with a recipe which I thought looked fabulous. Sunday lunch arrived, and I very nonchalantly announced that I made minestrone.

This announcement was met with a sceptical air, but I stuck to my guns, stupidly. Steaming, delicious bowls of soup with fabulous crusty sourdough was met with oooh's and aaah's, but I could tell that I was being compared. And that the comparison did not turn out in my favour. The Fabulous Man actually said (out loud!) that it wasn't quite the same as Nanny's. My lovely mother-in-law quickly added that it was delicious nevertheless, but my heart was broken anyway. Haven't made it since.

Another soup my husband likes is good old-fashioned chicken, with lots of veggies and pasta. Impossible to mess up, right? I've been making chicken soup for him on a fairly regular basis, easy as it is. One day when the discussion of what's for dinner came up, and I suggested chicken soup, I was met with the following: "I don't really like your chicken soup". Now, I'm not a negative person, but that's not what I call a compliment. He quickly suggested that it might be the stock I'm using, but my heart is still broken. Haven't made it since.

The next weapon in my arsenal: Nigel Slater. I dare anybody not to like any of this wonderful man's wonderful recipes. I tried his recipe for Tom Yum, a favourite of The Fabulous Man's. Delicious, I thought, relieved, after my first mouthful. "This is not how I remember it", from the other side of the table. Hmmm. Haven't made it since.

What makes this whole thing so much worse is that I never make a meal without him saying "This is great", or "You're a wonderful cook", or something along those lines. This is a man who's generous with his compliments, which is one of the reasons I love and adore him. That is, until I make soup.

So please excuse me for retiring from the soupmaking arena for a while, nursing my pride. The only soup I make very occasionally is this one, and a lentil and chorizo soup, when it's cold and I want something comforting but easy, like today. I think it's quite good, but I've never been wrestled to the ground and threatened to hand over the recipe, or else. Maybe one day.

Lentil Soup

Olive oil
2 onions, chopped
1 bunch of celery, with leaves, chopped
6 carrots, chopped
500g brown lentils (I used some lovely du Puy I had in the cupboard)
a chorizo sausage, chopped
2 tins of chopped tomatoes
garlic
50ml brown sugar
50ml red wine vinegar
2.5l water

Cook the onions, celery and carrots in the olive oil until soft.

Add the rest of the ingredients, bring to a boil, then simmer for about 2 hours.

Serve with crusty bread.

Confessions of a food blogging mass murderer

OK, so I lied, but somehow A confession of somebody who cooks dinner then write about it just doesn't have the same ring to it. But the confession is good, I promise. Are you sitting down?

I don't like tomatoes. It's true. Forever I've been looking at beautiful photos of tomatoes, and trying, no, forcing myself to like them. Except I don't. It's not that I hate them. They're perfectly good as a paste on pizza, or in a hearty lamb shank stew, or semi-dried as part of an antipasto platter. But as the main event? I'm unconvinced. To me they always seem a bit lacking. In taste, in smell, in texture. But, like us South Africans say, die hoop beskaam nie, which loosely translates into hope will never let you down. I'm always on the lookout for nice tomato recipes, and have quite a few on my to-cook list, but mostly I'm disappointed. I just cannot get enthusiastic about them like here and here.

Admittedly, my tomatoes come from the local supermarket, as somehow having a Little Girl largely interferes with early morning trips to the farmer's market, and I realise they're not half as good as ones grown with love and care, preferably by yourself. I have bought some lovely heirloom tomato seeds, and will plant them next season, but in the meantime Maxi's will have to do.

One of my recipes with tomatoes as one of the main ingredients is this pumpkin, tomato and orange soup. I found it in some magazine, made it, loved it, and wrote it down in my little recipe book I'm planning to have dozens of and people will fight over when I die. It's quick, easy, healthy, and delicious, a rare combination indeed. You'll note that tomato is just one of the flavours here rather than the star, and is made with one of my pantry staples: tinned tomatoes (the horror!). So I can't really call this a tomato recipe. But it's better than nothing. I'll always be looking out for that elusive tomato dish to change me into a devoted fan forever, but in the meantime I'll be having this soup. Hope you enjoy it too.

Roasted pumpkin, tomato and orange soup
Serves 4

2 - 4 cups pumpkin pieces
1 tablespoon brown sugar
olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 - 4 garlic cloves
1 tablespoon chopped ginger
1 teaspoon dried chilli, or to taste
2 celery sticks with leaves, chopped
juice and zest of 1 orange
two 410g tins of tomatoes
3 cups orange or chicken stock

Preheat your oven to 180 deg C.

Place the pumpkin in a roasting tin, coat with olive oil and brown sugar, and roast for 20 minutes or until done.

Heat some oil in a saucepan and cook onion, garlic and ginger until soft. Add the celery and cook for a further 3 minutes.

Add the orange juice and zest, tomatoes with juice, stock, and pumpkin with any juices left in the pan.
Simmer for 20 minutes.

Season with salt and pepper.

If you want a completely smooth soup, puree everything in your blender or with one of those nifty stick blenders. Otherwise remove some of the bits from the saucepan, and return after you've pureed the rest.

Serve and enjoy.