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soupapalooza!

the stories
the kitchen
the market
the proof (party pics!)
the food porn
the recipes
the about
the drop me a line part
the resources
the full list
jewelry alchemy

purée of carrot with toasted almonds: beets and cabrales and dried cherries... oh my!

Alright, I am a bad girl.

I put off writing this post for so long that the leftovers had time to actually spoil. So in the interest of cutting one’s losses (as I seem to have done on three separate occasions this week, personally speaking) I’m going to post some pictures from Sunday’s event and the recipe for the soup and then move on to THIS week’s soupapolooza!

And let me just say that the rest of the menu (wild arugula salad with roasted beets, cabrales, toasted walnuts and dried cherries, and for dessert: maple vanilla roasted pears with greek yogurt sorbetto) was pretty spectacular, too...

So here are the soup details, lazy and all:

 

Carrot with Toasted Almond Soup

Gourmet | November 2006

The secret to this simple recipe is using the best carrots you can find; taste them to make sure they are sweet and full of flavor.

Yield: Makes 4 (first course) servings

Active Time: 25 min

Total Time: 45 min

 

ingredients:

1 cup sliced shallots (about 4 large)

1 Turkish or 1/2 California bay leaf

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

Rounded 3/4 teaspoon curry powder

1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme

1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter

1 small boiling potato (3 oz)

1 1/2 lb carrots, peeled and cut crosswise 1/4 inch thick

1 3/4 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth (14 fl oz)

1 cup apple cider (preferably unfiltered)

1 1/4 cups water

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

1/4 cup sliced almonds, toasted

 

preparation:

Cook shallots, bay leaf, ginger, curry powder, and thyme in butter in a 2- to 3-quart heavy saucepan over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until shallots are softened and pale golden, 6 to 8 minutes.

Meanwhile, peel potato and cut into 1/2-inch cubes.

Add potato to shallot mixture along with carrots, broth, cider, water, salt, and pepper and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, until carrots are tender, 20 to 25 minutes. Discard bay leaf.

Purée soup in 2 batches in a blender until smooth, transferring as blended to a large bowl (use caution when blending hot liquids). Return to saucepan to reheat if necessary. Serve soup sprinkled with almonds.

Cooks' notes:

•Soup can be made 2 days ahead and cooled completely, uncovered, then chilled, covered. Reheat over low heat. Thin with additional water if necessary.

•Almonds can be toasted 2 days ahead and cooled completely, then kept in an airtight container at room temperature.

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I definitely added more curry (in fact, I easily doubled it) and put in less cider than called for-- and added cider vinegar. And as for potatoes, I used several fingerlings in place of a boiling potato to great result.

Soup on!!

PostedJune 22, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesvegetarian, soup
Tagsbad blogger, recipe, almonds, carrot, soupapalooza!, nutty, purée power, vegetarian, soup, curry
1 CommentPost a comment
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aged cheddar and belgian ale: taking the soup of shame after feeling like Pig Pen (or the kid who smelled in first grade) because of the rat in my engine compartment

I have dreaded writing this post. So much so that I have waited until Thursday to actually use my fingers to strike the keys and compose a thought. All week long I’ve been thinking about cute little anecdotes to relay just how much my life is like this wacky, sexy little 30 minute dramedy on the WB (I still think I’m closer to 20 than to 40, by the way, and I definitely don’t think I’m cool cool or edgy enough for HBO since I’m not a vampire, a writer/shoe whore or a part of an all-male celebrity pack of roving, explosive testosterone). Sure I’ve suffered some dating disappointments and some career drama, but through sheer pluck and charm I am managing to have enlightening adventures and overcome it all in the neat, time allotted package. And at the end of this little episode, there is some kind of cute clarity or epiphany and then there is what is always needed to carry anyone to the next foray-- hope. The truth is a whole hell of a lot murkier than this. A lot less hopeful. The truth is, well, kind of antithetical to the life I’ve formulated for myself in my head. You know the one. The one where I’m just a late bloomer and I’m really adorable and really successful in my own slightly neurotic yet sweet way, and that people will certainly discover this about me very soon... the truth is not so simple or cute or formatted to fit your television.

I’ve kind of been living in the place where I want to have hope for my future like I did when I was graduating from college-- when any and everything was possible and laid at my feet, and even if a bad thing happened it would be a well earned lesson and a humorous story for future cocktail parties-- but I’m going to have to admit to myself, sooner or later, that I am living in a real, not made for TV world. A world where my OB/ GYN reduced me to tears during my last pelvic exam by telling me that I am-- shock of all shocks-- 38 years old and if I want to pass on my genes I should consider freezing my eggs for a mere 15 grand (for a college grad I am shockingly unaware of my lack of reproductive immortality and with the fact that money is necessary in the whole exchange for goods and services thing). And maybe I should be a little more honest about thinking that everyone gets a happy ending and that mine is just around the bend; maybe I should just recognize that my business just might fail, that I just might have to really downsize and that great love might not be on the horizon. It is so not a sexy or happy thought, but it is my truth; maybe the more I acknowledge and make friends with this reality the less shitty I’ll feel...

And back in reality... I was on my way to a BBQ at the house of the Girl Whose Name Sounds Better Pronounced as an Indian Food Dish when my car decided to basically blow up for the second time since March. I feel really lucky that I have a car, luckier that it chooses to function 99% of the time, and luckiest that it’s paid for. What I feel less good about is the crap English (even though it’s really a Ford) engineering and the fact that it is eight years old and skirts dangerously close to the whole explode at any time thing. 

So I take the car in to the service center without an appointment, which already outs me as a manner-less ne’er do well, and I plop myself down on the couch in the lobby while I wait for a rental car. My service advisor lets me know that he’s going to go look for “overt” signs of trouble in the engine before I take off and I warn him that my car is, quite possibly, the dirtiest car in southern California, no judging please, I do take care of my possessions, really, not that he needs or cares to know any of this information. He comes back a few minutes later with a somewhat disdainful look on his face and his hands uncomfortably clenched (I can see through his pleated khakis) in his pockets.

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PostedJune 16, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup, positively piggy
Tagscheddar, ale, soup, recipe, soup with a side of ennui, soupapalooza!, freeze your eggs but not those eggs, pig pen, car sick, market greens, salad, radish, red velvet, red velvet ice cream sandwich, ice cream, cheesecake ice cream, white trash wheat thin nachos, jalapeño, bacon is best, piggy piggy piggy, positively piggy
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chilled zucchini: the fine line between prosecco and propsycho

​In the name of all that is unholy I am giving up Ambien. Again.

Really. It was a beautiful love affair in the beginning, with Ambien cooing sweetly in my ears, lulling me into deep, undisturbed and unfettered slumber. But I should have suspected something when those crazy, vivid and violent dreams began to happen-- I should have started snooping at Ambien’s emails or sorting through his drawers to try and uncover some evidence of the real Ambien; but I had trust. Hell, I had need, and I wasn’t about to give up on the one thing I’d happily managed to commit to...

Until, that is, the morning I woke up with a with a dozen or so little tin foil wrappers stuck to the side of my face only to then notice little brown splotches all over my arms, torso and egyptian cotton sheets. Yes, I had, in my Ambien haze, managed to procure a bag of Hershey’s kisses, eat a few and then literally roll around in the rest of the bag all night. I’m not sure if I was falling asleep as I was unwrapping them from a horizontal position or if the kisses just melted from my body heat as I slept, but it doesn’t really matter since I looked like a five year old  that pooped chocolate all over her mom’s bed. Never mind the fact that I really don’t ever crave chocolate and that I couldn’t even remember buying the damn things, Ambien had turned on me.

The next day I gave Ambien it’s walking papers. The first time.

Fast forward a few (six) years... 

I go through periods of crazy sleep deprivation. This has happened my entire adult life whenever there has been stress and flux; if you’ve read any of the entries on this blog you might get an idea of the self-induced tumult of my life lately-- my career and romantic missteps. So what does a girl do when she’s feeling a little crummy about herself? She calls an ex for a pick me up, of course! And Ambien, my beautiful pharmaceutical lothario, is always there to oblige.

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PostedJune 8, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup, vegetarian
Tagszucchini, prosecco, propsycho, chilled, edible flowers, ambien is not your friend, that chocolate on your face looks like poo, vegetarian, recipe, soupapalooza!, can be tailored vegan
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aztec tortilla lime soup: a garnish is still a garnish

​Memorial Day is supposed to be a solemn holiday-- one to reflect on those Americans that have served and died in that service for our country. But the only evidence of reflection I saw this weekend was whether or not the BBQ was too rare to eat. Memorial Day seems to me, at least in this most ungodly and Babylonian of states, more about beer, cookouts and screenings of “Purple Rain” at the cemetery. Not that there’s anything wrong with that... I mean, after all, could a five foot nothing mixed race dude from Minnesota wearing violet lycra pantaloons and pointy boots really be a famous musician and arbiter of style anywhere else in the world besides America? Well, besides France, of course.

Really, what a gloriously mixed-up, mashed about mess of a place this is. We are a nation of ligers; an unnatural mix of a lion and a tiger that makes for one screwed up animal, since lions live in prides and hate the water while tigers are solitary and are great swimmers. Put them together and we are a totally confused animal that has no idea what it wants and needs but is pretty sure it’ll still be killing some giant land animal for dinner. There is such diversity and beauty in this society made up of glaring contradictions that it almost makes the ridiculous religious and political rants some of my facebook friends seem palatable... well, almost. 

So I’ve been thinking about what traits we, as a group of more than 310 million people living on one landmass, share as Americans and which of them makes me most proud. And I’ve come to the  conclusion that my hands-down favorite is dissatisfaction.

That’s right. I say screw people that are totally satisfied since satisfaction breeds laziness, smugness and the propensity to stick to the status quo. I say be pissed with whatever it is that isn’t working for you and acknowledge that you would like things to be different, and then go and make a change. Not to sound like a Michael Jackson song or anything.

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PostedJune 1, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup
Tagslime, tortilla, texmex, mexican, memorial day, dissatisfaction is very american, pasilla, there is no such thing as eco friendly jewelry, sometimes I'm a real asshole, sometimes I like to rant, we're all ligers, soup, thanks for souping, soupapalooza!, recipe
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roasted roma tomato with gruyere mini grilled cheese: the Shafer beer of soups or the one to have when you’re having more than one

​I had an unspoken but hard and fast rule about soupapolooza! when it began: that I would never repeat a recipe. Since I tend to repeat boyfriends, bad behavior and boring stories I thought I would give myself the opportunity to be bold and different with the soup. But I also promised that I would use local, seasonal ingredients, and in looking back on the very first soupapolooza! I realize that unless we’ve all joined Marty McFly (oh how I miss my spiral perm and Whitesnake) in the DeLorean and have managed to have three seasons happen at once, that little rule was shot from the very beginning, so whatever. I cheated this week. Because I remade the creamy roasted tomato soup with a different variety of tomato, but I cheated nonetheless. I’m a big fat CHEATER. So sue me.

Maybe because I was familiar with the recipe and/or maybe because it’s so simple, I had the most laid back Sunday. Usually I’m up at 7.30 or 8, finalizing the day’s menu and printing out my shopping list, out the door by 9 and working through the farmer’s market by 9.30. Afterwards I come home with the various loot from the market, extra supplies from the grocery store, wine from K&L and new gadgets from Sur La Table (ANY excuse to buy a new pot) and start assembling the mess by 2. By 6.30 I’m ready to serve with candles lit, bar set up and salad dressed; well, in a perfect world... 

Most Sundays I’m still running around and usually unable to talk with anyone when they arrive (just a few weeks ago I was quite short with the Conspiracy Theorist Web Designer when she was kind enough to ask what could she do to help and I practically screamed “get out of the kitchen and get yourself a drink! THEN we can talk about Atlantis!”). It’s a long, arduous, active day and, truthfully, I drag my feet much of the time. Sometimes I cheat by going directly to the grocery store and buying the crappy produce there, not that I like to admit this, but it can be challenging to stare down the barrel of the gun being held by an unknown number of potential party guests with nothing but an unknown stack of recipes in defense. And sometimes I try to shave some time off the prep by avoiding the hipsters with strollers and the displaced homeless people on Ivar at the farmer’s market. Plus I hate shelling out the fiver for parking at Bed, Bath and Beyond because, truly, that is beyond offensive since I come out of that place smelling like a bad candle. I do always get a better result when I go to Hollywood, though, so my cheapness and outrage over paying for parking really shouldn’t be part of the equation. But sometimes it is a very convenient excuse.

But this week it was all a breeze. Because I’m a cheater. Because I knew the recipe and because I was craving a grilled cheese sandwich.

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PostedMay 18, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup, appetizers and snacks
Tagsroasted tomato, tomato, grilled cheese, cheesy, cheese, tricolore salad, gruyere, mini grilled cheese sandwiches, parmesan, parmesan wafers, recipe, soup and the single girl, soupapalooza!, veruca salt, cheating, puree, soup, thanks for souping
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goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

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Why? Because soup is cheap, delicious and easy. Kind of like me.

a weekly attempt to eat well and to savor life. or to see how much food I can get on my clothes.

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