The garnishes seem overwhelming, but this is also delicious without a single addition.
I am going to share a top secret recipe today that is fail-proof, delicious, cheap, and vegan (if you skip some of the garnishes). It’s because I LOVE YOU, and I want you to have good things in your life. That’s why.
Not even going to make you sit through a story — just soup, soup, and more soup. Enjoy.
Tortilla Soup
Ingredients
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup yellow onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 jalapeño, finely chopped (keep as many or as few seeds as you like)
Salt and pepper
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 tablespoons puréed chipotles in adobo (see Recipe Notes)
1 (28-ounce) can diced tomatoes (or two smaller cans)
2 cups vegetable or chicken stock (I used veg for the vegetarian)
1 can of corn kernels (or fresh, about 2 cups)
1 can black or dark red kidney beans
GARNISHES, ANY OR ALL
Avocado, chopped
Tortilla chips
Shredded Colby jack (or cheese of your choice)
Sour cream
Chopped fresh cilantro
Red onion, finely chopped
Method
Heat oil over medium heat in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. Add onion, garlic, green chilis/jalapeño, and season with salt and pepper. Cook until onion is soft (5-8 minutes).
Add chili powder and cumin and stir to coat. Cook a minute or two until spices open up, then add chipotle purée and tomatoes. Season again with salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes start to caramelize a bit on the bottom of the pot (the time for this varies depending on your pot, the heat, etc. But there will be less liquid and the tomatoes will brown slightly. Mine took about ten minutes).
Add vegetable stock, corn, and beans. Bring to a simmer and reduce heat to low. Simmer uncovered 15-20 minutes and taste for seasoning.
At this point, the soup is done. It can be set aside and reheated, and it’s even better the next day. It freezes perfectly.
Garnish the hell out of your soup, or eat it plain. Delicious either way.
This soup’s spice can be moderated by adding fewer seeds/veins from whatever pepper you choose.
Recipe Notes
When you open a can of chipotle chilis in adobo, dump in a blender and purée. Remove the amount you need for the soup, then place the rest in a Ziploc bag and flatten. Freeze. Break off chunks of deliciousness as needed.
Add grilled, shredded chicken (or rotisserie chicken from the store – EASY) for carnivores.
Edited: this was written prior to the death of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. We have apparently now entered the meaty side of things.
Yes, I am aware that I said we would get into the meaty side of things – and we will.
Seems like much of life these days is waiting to get into the meaty things.
But in the meantime, the nights will be in the mid-40s for the next week, with sunny, dry fall days ahead. This vegan cream of mushroom soup is perfect for lunch, or with crusty bread and a big salad for dinner. It freezes well, so put some up for the rainy days ahead.
Cream of Mushroom Soup (serves 6, with leftovers)
Luscious and creamy without a trace of cream, this silky soup is full of grounding, warming flavors and herbs. A perfect vegan lunch, or see Recipe Notes for meat-eating options. Use homemade chicken, vegetable, or beef stock (see recipes included below), or look for store-bought organic stocks with limited ingredients. Seasoning makes the difference here, so don’t shy away from salt and pepper. Taste as you go.
Ingredients
1 cup raw cashews (see Recipe Notes) ¼ cup olive oil or ghee (divided) 1 cup onion, chopped (red, yellow, and white all work) 3 cloves garlic, minced 2 pounds mushrooms, roughly chopped (see Recipe Notes) 3 tablespoons fresh thyme (or 3 teaspoons dried) 2 tablespoon fresh sage (or 2 teaspoons dried) 6 cups chicken or vegetable stock (divided) Salt and pepper to taste Splash of apple cider vinegar for serving optional for carnivores: ground beef, browned and drained (see Recipe Notes) optional for serving: fresh thyme and fresh chopped parsley
Method
Cover cashews with boiling water and let sit for at least 30 minutes. Drain, then purée in a blender with ½ cup of chicken or vegetable stock. Set aside.
Heat olive oil or ghee in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until it begins to turn translucent and take on some color (about 5 to 7 minutes). Add garlic and cook for 1 more minute.
Turn the heat to medium high and add the mushrooms, a handful at a time, allowing the mushrooms to color just a bit before adding more. You may need to add a little more ghee or olive oil. Season with salt and pepper, and add fresh thyme and sage. Add remaining stock and bring to a low simmer. Cook until mushrooms are tender (10 to 12 minutes), then add cashew purée, starting with a ¼ cup and adding to get the consistency you want. You may need to add more stock or less cashew purée.
If you are using ground beef, add it back in now and bring the soup back to a low boil. Remove from heat. Add a splash of apple cider vinegar, season to taste, and serve with chopped fresh thyme and parsley.
Recipe Notes
• If you have leftover Cashew Cream, it works well in this recipe. Simply add whatever you like for a nice creamy consistency. • Select any mushrooms you like. In the fall, look for local chanterelles and porcini mushrooms, as well as year-round shitake and Portobello. A mix of mushrooms works fine here. • If you are making the carnivorous version of this silky soup, start by browning one pound of ground beef in a stockpot. Remove the ground beef when browned and proceed with sautéing the onion, as above (no need to add ghee or olive oil). Make sure and scrape the browned bits of ground beef off the bottom of the pot as you sauté the onions. Add ground beef back in after you incorporate the cashew purée.
My brother and I have not spoken more than a handful of times since November 8, 2016.
While the final catalyst was his part in the current president’s election, I realized a long time ago that there was a disconnect between us, formed since we could walk. We spent our childhood together, me mostly afraid of him as the object of his ire, scorn, amusement, and anger. Both of our parents worked, and we spent a lot of time alone together. When my brother needed a punching bag I was handy; he routinely delivered punches, smacks, and pinches, along with various projectiles aimed at my head. He broke two windows in our house, one with a walnut and one with a deflated volleyball, as a result of those errant projectiles that veered from me at the last minute and met instead the fragile single panes of our house in the woods.
In terms of missiles, I remember most the Osage oranges, the softball-sized round seed pods that looked like I imagined brains looked. They were all over the base of the hill where our bus turned around. Florida Ropp, our bus driver for my entire elementary career, would pull up to the bottom of the steep hill and let us off before backing into a wide driveway and turning around. I sat in the front so I could fly down the stairs and immediately start running up the hill.
My brother emerged slowly, casually, a few seconds after me, to begin leisurely scanning the ground for the best orange. He would heft several in his hands before finding the perfect missile. My short legs never carried me far enough, fast enough, and the first one nearly always hit me square in the back between my shoulder blades. He had good aim and didn’t often miss.
We don’t agree on politics. We don’t have the same friends, taste in music, or ideas of what is important. Although I think he is a great dad and has a strong work ethic, I am not sure he believes either of those things to be true about me. When I started my own school, I think he envisioned me in a prairie skirt huddled around a kitchen table with a few raggedy unfortunates, not the fully accredited, non-profit private school I actually built.
When my husband died, though, he showed up. He cleaned out the demolished car and returned, silent and somber. He handled Dane’s bill collectors so I did not have to. His whole family piled into their car and drove down to Georgia from Northern Virginia to sit with us, and on that first fatherless Father’s Day in 2013 we spent it at Camden Yards in Baltimore with them.
It is hard for me to rectify what he did in that one time that was so important and vital with the rest of our lives. Even as we don’t speak, I would do the same for his family.
Perhaps we can just come to some peace with each other, where it’s ok that we are related and all, but there is really no obligation. We are guests in each others’ house; our children are strangers to each other. We cannot choose our family, but we can choose who we continue to invite into our lives. It’s hard when the chasm between us is vast and filled with fundamental differences in the way we believe the world should work.
Soup is an odd transition but perhaps just as polarizing. I have never lived with anyone who has liked soup. I do not understand how a person could not like soup. Various reasons have been that it’s sort of a half-meal and not particularly satisfying, or that it’s too, well, soup-y. For this reason, even though I am incredibly good at it (if I do say so myself), I don’t often make soup of any kind.
This recipe was an accident of sorts. Back when I was a public school teacher working with unruly adolescents, I was planning to teach a history unit on Africa and came home one evening – late and hungry – from a team planning meeting. My team decided that I was to design a dish that was quick and easy to share with my class when we started the unit; on that cold and rainy evening, I threw together some traditional flavors from all over Africa and hoped for the best.
After tasting the first batch, I ended up keeping the first to myself and making another for the class. Even the anti-soup faction in the house begrudgingly admitted it was delicious.
These days I make it all for myself and eat the whole batch over several days. It is silky and simple and complicated all at once, and warming all the way down to the bones. I have made my own ras-el-hanout spice blend instead of using the simple ginger/cayenne mixture I first used in this stew (back in 1999). There are various recipes online that include between six and 30 spices in their ras-el-hanout mixes; I chose to go simple for the sake of ease and convenience. The result is a deep, complex, satisfying, and somehow familiar stew that brings everyone back to the table.
African* Peanut Stew
Ingredients
4 tablespoons olive oil
3 cups sweet potatoes or yams, chopped into ½” cubes
1 large onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2 cups vegetable stock (or chicken if not cooking for vegetarians)
2 15-ounce cans of diced tomatoes (or two pints if you preserve your own)
1 large apple, peeled, seeded, and chopped
1 heaping tablespoon ras-el-hanout (recipe below) Optional but highly recommended: 2 T grated fresh ginger
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (more or less to taste)Salt and pepper to taste
1/4 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1 cup crunchy peanut butter (unsweetened is best)
1 green pepper, seeded and chopped
If you are making your own ras-el-hanout, make that first. Add coriander and cumin seeds to a small frying pan over medium heat. Toast until spices begin to open up (they will smell more…toasty…), swirling frequently to avoid burning. If they burn, start over.
Place toasted seeds in a coffee grinder and allow to cool. Add red pepper flakes and grind until fine and incorporated. You can also use a mortar and pestle if you don’t have a spice grinder.
Combine all spices and mix thoroughly. This makes a little over 1/4 cup of ras-el-hanout, which will stay fresh for about a month in a dark, dry place. Realistically, it will be okay longer but just lose flavor the longer you have it.
Make the soup: In a large, heavy-bottomed stewpot (enameled cast iron is great for this), heat olive oil over medium heat. Add onion and sauté for two or three minutes, adding about a teaspoon of salt and some cracked black pepper. Add sweet potatoes and sauté until just cooked, soft on the outside with a slightly firm center (al dente).
Add chopped garlic, stock, tomatoes, apple, ras-el-hanout, fresh ginger (if using), and cayenne pepper. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to a low boil, and then lower the heat and simmer for 45 minutes.
Stir in shredded coconut, peanut butter, and green pepper and simmer for another ten minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Serve with more shredded coconut and chopped unsalted peanuts.
*Yes, this is a blanket and general name for a stew that takes flavors from all over, most especially Morocco but also in the southern regions of Africa (and western as well). I do not pretend to be any kind of expert in these flavor profiles; I am simply experimenting and combining things that taste delicious, no matter how incongruous. I mean no disrespect.
