Cooking Recipes Channel

Like all recipes that propose to use odds and ends that might, in other, less frugal kitchens, end up in the trash, this one delights me to no end -- the nose-to-tail philosophy applied to the vegetable kingdom, if you will.

All you need to do is shell and trim your pea pods (I recommend the tear-and-pull technique, which opens the pod and rids it of stem and string in a single gesture), discarding any that is browned or withered, and keeping the ones that look healthy. These you'll rinse well, drain, and save while you cook the peas in whichever clever way you've decided.

The pods don't stay fresh for very long, so if you're not absolutely positive you'll get around to making the soup within a day or so, it is wise to throw them in the freezer (of course I recommend depositing them in some sort of freezer-safe container first, don't be so literal).

The recipe itself is the simplest thing -- an onion, some garlic, a splash of white wine, a whisper of nutmeg -- yet I can't think of a more refreshing start to a late spring dinner than this army green soup, thin-textured and cool, its elusive sweetness brought out by a few drops of hot sauce.

Chilled Pea Pod Soup

- olive oil
- 1 onion, minced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- the pods from 1.2 kg (2.5 pounds) fresh green peas, stems removed, rinsed and drained (no need to thaw them if frozen)
- sea salt
- 2 tablespoons dry white wine
- 1 liter (4 cups) quality stock, brought to a simmer
- freshly grated nutmeg (use a whole nutmeg and a small grater)
- freshly ground black pepper
- hot sauce, such as Tabasco sauce
- a few stems of fresh herbs, such as chervil, cilantro, dill, or chives

Serves 4 as a first course.

Heat a little olive oil in a cast-iron or soup pot over medium-high heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook until softened, stirring regularly. Add the pea pods, season with salt, and cook for a few minutes, until the liquids have evaporated if the pods were frozen.

Deglaze with the white wine, and cook for a minute. Add the hot stock, bring to a simmer, cover, and cook for 25-30 minutes, until the pods are quite soft. Remove from the heat and let cool, uncovered, for 10 minutes.

Put on an apron (I mean it; this can get messy). Using a blender or an immersion blender, whiz the soup in short pulses until all the pods are broken down into chunks. They will refuse to turn to a purée; the goal is simply to break their fibers so they'll be easier to strain.

Set a food mill (or a fine-mesh strainer) over a medium bowl and ladle a few spoonfuls of the soup into the mill (or strainer). Turn the handle of the mill (or press on the solids in the strainer with the back of a tablespoon) to strain out as much of the liquids as you can. Discard the solids (see note) and repeat with the rest of the soup, still working in batches.

Sprinkle the soup with a little nutmeg, stir, taste, and adjust the seasoning. Refrigerate until well chilled. (To speed up the cooling, set the bowl in a larger bowl filled with cold water and a few ice cubes.)

Pour the soup in glasses, add freshly ground pepper, a dash of hot sauce, and a stem or two of fresh herbs, and serve with thick-cut fingers of levain bread.

Note: Rather than discard the solids right away, I prefer to reserve them in another bowl and strain them again after the first pass: I find I can usually strain out a little more liquid after giving them this short resting time.

No one seems to know it, but radish greens are definitely edible. I let some radishes bolt over the winter, mostly so I could see if they'd actually produce seeds early enough to let me pull the plants and still give something else enough time to grow in their spot. They're finally starting to develop some buds--but in the meantime, they've also produced a massive amount of radish greens. Might as well eat them, right?

Like dandelions and escarole, radish greens get more bitter as they grow. This means that if you have monster radish greens--I certainly do--it's important to address that bitterness, so you don't end up with an inedible finished product.

I decided to try combining my radish greens with chard and spinach in a soup. I used bean broth (and a few stray cooked beans) to give the soup some depth, and brightened it up with some lemon juice and zest. Dairy is clearly a good addition, adding creaminess while balancing out the bitter bite of the greens.

The finished soup was fairly thin--almost thin enough to pour into a glass and drink off. It's possible to cook off some of the moisture to thicken the soup, but I wouldn't try this with greens; extended boiling will turn them a sludgy olive color. If you want a thicker soup, you could add some cooked white beans along with your broth, cook a diced potato in the broth before you add the greens, or just stir in a couple spoonfuls of cornstarch slurry at the end.

Since I was just making soup for me, this recipe makes one large or two small servings.

Creamy radish greens soup

olive oil or butter
shallot
garlic
bean or vegetable broth
roughly equal amounts of radish greens, chard, and spinach
salt, pepper
plain yogurt or other creamy device of your choice
lemon juice & zest

Soften a chopped shallot and a couple cloves of crushed and minced garlic in olive oil. When they're just beginning to turn golden, add about a cup of bean or vegetable broth. I used frozen bean broth, as usual, so I had to give it an extra few minutes to defrost in the pan. In any case, bring your broth to a boil.

While you're waiting, wash, destem, and roughly chop your greens. I used about six or seven large radish leaves, one huge chard leaf (minus its stem), and two small spinach plants. When the broth is boiling, add your radish greens and chard to the pot. Season with a little salt and pepper, stir it up, and let cook for three to four minutes, or until the greens have just wilted. Add the spinach, stir again, and cook for another minute or two.

When all the greens are wilted, take your pan off the heat. Give your soup a minute to cool down before pureeing it with an immersion blender. Then add a little drizzle of olive oil and a big spoonful of plain yogurt (or crumbled goat cheese, cream cheese, actual cream--whatever you want to use) and puree again.

The immersion blender isn't going to get your soup perfectly smooth, but that's ok. I found that it created a nice suspension of tiny green flecks in a opaque green broth. If you want a smoother soup, process your soup in an actual blender.

Once your soup is pureed, add a big squeeze of fresh lemon juice and do a final taste check. Add a little more salt or pepper if you need to. Then ladle your soup into a bowl, top with some extra yogurt, pepper, and finely chopped lemon zest, and have at it.

I'd definitely eat this with a bunch of flatbread or garlicky pita chips baked in the toaster oven. This time I just made some rye toast, which was also a good plan. It definitely made a great scraper for the bits of greens stuck to the side of the bowl.

Related:
           Pea Pop Soup

Steaks
2 x 250g best-quality rib-eye steaks
1 heaped teaspoon Szechuan pepper
Chinese five-spice
2cm piece of fresh ginger
1/2 red chilli
1 clove of garlic
1 lime
a few sprigs of fresh coriander

Greens
150g sugar snao peas
2 bok choi
200g sprouting broccoli
1 heaped tablespoon black bean sauce
1 lemon or lime

Dan Dan Noodles
6 tablespoon chilli oil
4 tablespoons soy sauce
1 clove of garlic
200g beansprouts
1/2 bunch of fresh coriander
8 spring onions
400g dried medium egg noodles
(1 nest per person)
1 organic beef stock cube
1/2 lemon
runny honey
a squeeze of lime juice

Seasonings
olive oil
extra virgin oil
sea salt & black pepper

Hibiscus Tea
2-3 hibiscus, mint or jasmine teabags
1 clementine
1 lime
1 heaped dessertspoon caster sugar
a few handfuls of ice
a few sprigs of fresh mint