Soup Archives - Rooting The Sun

butternut squash ribollita

October 23, 2015 By Danielle 2 Comments

for sometimes reasons unclear i seem to deeply immerse myself in reminiscing, always this time of year. and as the year’s end draws closer and stamps itself heavily upon our winter breaths – i get deeper and deeper. i find it naturally human to compare and contrast. there is inherently a desire to build upon what we’ve built – whether it be continuing what feels good and looks right, or ditching the current plan because it’s not working. as years progress i spend less time questioning and more time coming to terms with myself. acceptance is a learned behavior. energy saved for the future seems more productive.

a year ago today we were at the cabin we called home in northern california. deep in the jurassic woods, listening to everything the earth has ever said. learning an infinity of knowledge from living off of the land. philosophies that we’ve cradled beneath our breast ever since. and in those periods of silence and respect we thrived. it’s where we’ve been that makes us current day. it’s a previous union that makes for future solidarity. it’s understanding that the road is long, heavy, soft, sweet, bitter, and eternal. and today we may not be in the same place, wearing the same shoes, listening to the same songs, but we’re always progressing. accepting and respecting what’s behind, and acknowledging what’s to come.

autumn is a great season for these affirmations. before the winter cold absorbs our entire condition we have this period of the sweetest simmering. a mellowing of the mind, a deepening of the soul for a darker color. i’m sure we’ll touch on these notions again. to coax you i have the warmest bowl of butternut squash ribollita. it’s simple, hearty, communal, and a sweet accompaniment to the current weather. i’m dreaming heavily of the past and singing delicate notes to the future.

Butternut Squash Ribollita

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Ingredients

4 tbl olive oil
1 medium red onion chopped
2 medium carrots chopped
2 medium celery stalks (tops on), chopped
3 cloves garlic minced
½ tsp red pepper flakes
1 bay leaf
1 lb tomato blanched, skin removed, chopped with juice (or 1 15 oz can diced tomato and juice)
2 cups soaked/cooked white beans or canned/rinsed (cannelini, great northern)
1 sprig rosemary and 1 sprig thyme
1 small butternut cubed
4 cups vegetable stock
1 parmesan rind (optional but recommended)
1 lb lacinato kale, stemmed and chopped
salt and pepper to taste
day old peasant bread/sourdough/ciabatta

Instructions

heat oil in dutch oven or large soup pot. add onion, carrot, celery, garlic, red pepper, bay leaf. sweat vegetables and spices 7-10 minutes until softened.
add tomato, beans, rosemary, thyme, butternut, stock, and paremsan rind. bring just to a boil and simmer lightly, uncovered, 15-20 minutes until squash is tender.
tear pieces of bread into the soup and add kale - simmer another 10 minutes or until greens are slightly wilted and soup is thickened*.

Notes

*if at this point the soup is not thick enough for your desire you may take a few cups of soup, blend them, and add them back in.

mustard maple pumpkin apple soup + macadamia gremolata

October 13, 2015 By Danielle 12 Comments

Last weekend left me more breathless than I’ve been in quite awhile. Do you ever have days where you have a full schedule, but somehow it’s an open invitation for the unexpected to happen? I try to keep my weekends soft and quiet, but occasionally there is a birthday, or I must tend to those necessary life obligations (like getting the car tuned up). Occasionally there is a friend’s final game to support. And occasionally all of this is somehow scheduled for one Saturday. There’s never a good time for your dog to eat something alien and unpleasant – but the oddest of aspects will prevail in the busiest of times, without fail. The only conclusion the vet was able to come to was that my dog is a one year old lab, and her very nature in life is to put foreign things in her mouth. We suspect green tomatoes. But my point is that a couple green tomatoes are equivalent to a late car appointment, a missed ride, a consequential (although beautiful) foot trek to the game, a lot of sweat, and fatigued birthday libations. Those moments where you can’t decide if the universe is laughing at you, conspiring against you, or opening your eyes to a bigger picture.

In the midst of the insanity was such a brilliant clarity. I made time to browse the modest stands of our weekend farmer’s market, quaint as it may be, and was able to meet some wonderful souls and talk apples. Our area isn’t known for its orchards, it is predominately the land of ranchers. But to discover those that are doing it, I was there in every dimension. I ended up purchasing a bag of humble mcintosh (a genuine reminder of the roads I dare call home). Their scent, deep and heady.

I did what any crazed brain would do – I souped some of them with a sugar pumpkin and called it fall. If you’re concerned that the soup is too sweet, fear not – the apples are tart (even green may be a viable option) and the mustard, thyme, and gremolata keep it grounded. I invite you to try it and if you do, let me know what you think. There are indeed many more ingredients to be celebrated besides pumpkin and apple, but the nurturing truth is that these elements are unfailingly fun, and seasonally whimsical. Mustard maple, pumpkin apple, autumn leaves are falling, soup.

Sweet autumn air sweetest friends – if you have green tomato moments you aren’t alone (except that we are able to eat them as humans).

5.0 from 2 reviews

mustard maple pumpkin apple soup + macadamia gremolata

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Ingredients

1 medium sugar pumpkin, skinned and cubed
1 lb tart apples (red or green), diced
1 large red onion, chopped
2 large cloves of garlic, minced
½ tbl fresh thyme
1 tbl grapeseed oil
2 tbl maple syrup
1 tbl mustard
3 cups of vegetable stock (+ 1 cup for thinning and blending)
salt and pepper to taste
gremolata:
1 / 3 cup finely chopped macadamia nuts
1 cup parsley, chopped coarsely
juice and zest of 1 lemon
l large garlic clove, minced finely

Instructions

heat oil in a dutch oven or large soup pot over medium-high heat. add thyme and red onion and cook until slightly softened. add garlic and cook just until fragrant.
add pumpkin and apples and cook until gently browned, 5-10 minutes. stir in maple syrup and mustard and cook to coat all ingredients, 1-2 minutes.
add vegetable stock and bring all to a boil. reduce heat, partially cover pot, and lightly simmer soup until vegetables are tender - about 30 minutes.
meanwhile assemble gremolata. in a medium bowl combine macadamia, parsley, lemon juice, lemon zest, and minced garlic.
when soup ingredients are tender, carefully transfer to a blender (in batches if necessary) and puree. thin any unwanted thickness out with additional vegetable stock.
return soup to heat and add salt and pepper to taste. enjoy soup in bowls garnished with gremolata.

Heirloom Tomato and Carrot Soup with Harissa

September 19, 2015 By Danielle 4 Comments

Out of all the vegetables you can potentially cultivate for yourself or others – I think tomatoes are some of the most fulfilling to produce. If we were never exposed to these practices as children, then the most one is familiar with are the polished hot house varieties stocked to the ceiling in grocery markets. I’ve spent many hours staring at them, pondering where their blemishes are – a hint of imperfection; of a life worth living. They never get soft or bruise, and there is that underlying plasticity element – their taste hardly registers on the tongue. To gain the exposure to the deep and wide variety of heirlooms is to properly be acquainted with the tomato. Any farmer will ecstatically chat for hours on end about the varying beauties that comprise the vast tomato family. If you are ever considering the beginnings of a vegetable garden – do begin with a tomato plant.

What fascinates me this time of year is the sky. It almost seems that as soon as the temperatures begin to fade that the sky transforms into the bluest ocean it’s ever been. The haze from the heat and smoke from the fires retreat and clarity is abundant. The nights are bold and clear, and the stars hang low and plentiful. The wind is just a breeze right now (no sooner to become the roar of winter), and it caresses our cheeks on strolls and jaunts. It is the altogether brisk feeling that accompanies this season that lightens my heart effortlessly. The earth is readying itself to slumber or pass on, and the clarity that reckons this event is all-encompassing and strong.

Undoubtedly our conversations turn to soup. It’s necessary, communal, nourishing, and widely embraced. One of us makes soups for part of their living. We will spend the entirety of the winter talking about and making soup. The elements that comprise a bowl are endless and worth a lifetime. The comfort one receives from said bowl is gratifying and nurturing. The basic and nude idea of containing complete sustenance in a bowl is real. This will not be the last time I gush my fountain of soupy praises – merely it is the first.

And the tomatoes are slowing down. They must realize that the equinox is upon us. This year our main concentration was between pineapple tomatoes, black krims, and the inevitable brandywine (all pictured above). To not devote our respect by way of summer’s end soup is to not breathe the autumn air. The tomatoes roasted in with a few leeks, and the house smelled divine. We also grew baltimore carrots (pictured) – which proved themselves in volume and verse. A beautiful and delicious variety. Sauteed with some home crafted harissa paste, and the house smelled divine.

I share a recipe that embodies this transitional period of satisfaction, gratitude and equinox. May your skies be washed blue where you reside, and the air crisp with the welcoming of season.

5.0 from 1 reviews

Heirloom Tomato and Carrot Soup with Harissa

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Ingredients

5 lbs of heirloom tomatoes
2 leeks, bottom halves - green and white parts
olive oil
1-2 tbl grapeseed oil
6 carrots chopped into coins
1-2 tbl harissa paste (personal taste dependent)
2-4 cups of vegetable stock

Instructions

Peel tomatoes from their skins. This may be achieved by introducing them into a boiling pot of water for no longer than a minute and transferring them to icy water. The skins will slide right off.
Split leeks lengthwise and be sure to clean them from any residual silt or dirt.
Brush tomatoes and leeks lightly with olive oil, salt, pepper. Roast on a large sheet pan at 400 degrees for thirty minutes.
Post roasting, heat grapeseed oil in large, heavy bottomed pot on stove. Add carrot and stir to coat. Cook carrots five minutes on medium high until only beginning to soften. Add harissa paste and heat until fragrant and evenly coated on carrots.
Chop leeks and with roasted tomatoes add to carrots in the soup pot. Start by adding two cups of vegetable stock. Bring soup to boil and reduce to a simmer until carrots are readily tender, about thirty minutes. During this time if the soup begins to thicken on you add more vegetable stock.
Working in batches if necessary, blend soup using desired method until smooth.
Garnish soup with caraway seeds, pine nuts, dried tomato, cream.

Notes

harissa is a spicy north african chili paste. you may find it prepared in the store with other condiments, or you may easily prepare it yourself at home. if spice is an unwelcomed element in your diet, you may easily omit the harissa and still enjoy a lovely tomato and carrot soup.

Chilled Honeydew Melon Soup

September 12, 2015 By Danielle 2 Comments

This is a very special melon to me. It overcame a lot of trials and tribulations this year to make an appearance. There was a period in the beginning of the season that we collectively cringed because we released our starts into the arms of danger as the weather unexpectedly degraded. The day after much of our planting the wind grew to sixty mile an hour gusts for a stint of four or five days. Needless to say the starts were not exactly enticed with their new environment. I was extremely curious and excited to procure honeydew melons this year (as well I am super partial to their flavor) – and my heart was wrapped tightly around this breed called the Snow Leopard melon. In between weather disaster and illy-planned portions of the garden I was able to receive this singular honeydew. It’s ironic and slightly supernatural to me that my melon is as elusive as the true snow leopard, but all the more empowering.

A sigh of bliss is accompanying this weekend as the temperatures hold briefly warm before their simple decline next week. The sun is hot but the air is brisk. This week was long and somehow left us sore and mentally exhausted – hence a decision to retreat into the hills this evening. There are many common medicines one may absorb to quickly erase their ailments, but nothing can soothe as well as the slow and nude compass of the woodland. We pay homage to the land that has paid us, and the disconnection and redirection are priceless.

If the finality of your summer temperature is apparent, or if you are where the temperature never quits – a cold and refreshing melon soup. We paid homage to the melon by delighting in sweet cubes of its flesh, and took the remaining into a blended soup.

I am leaving you with a somewhat stripped recipe – if we may even call it that, perhaps this afternoon it’s a recommendation of sorts. A recommendation to release yourself from any tired elements and bring into focus the simplistic points of existence. Breathing and thinking comprise the grid. The melon was rare in the garden this year but the love for it was not.

Chilled Honeydew Melon Soup

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Ingredients

1 honeydew
juice of 1 lime
handful of cilantro
pistachio

Instructions

blend honeydew with lime juice and cilantro in processor or blender - start with small amounts and increase to structure to your taste
chill soup or serve in chilled bowls
serve topped with pistachio

Summer Squash Soup with Lemon Pepper and Sage

August 31, 2015 By Danielle 2 Comments

I have an interesting thought to briefly mediate on this evening. This being the sense of smell. There is something so strong and conjuring of the olfactory. It can elicit deep emotional responses upon reception, or it can so swiftly recall a memory in our mind. We connect certain times and places with smell, often when are greeted by that same smell again in life. It can soothe us, scare us, excite us, tempt our lips with a smile, or even deflate that smile again. It’s intoxicating, inebriating, and all-consuming at times. Our associations and connections with our nose may be amongst some of the strongest. Yet there is no documenting smell – it comes and it goes. Different shifts in the atmosphere; different elements or factors in your habitat; the mere changing of seasons. We can set out to recreate or recover the sense, but nothing ever seems as powerful as the very moment in which we experience it. We cannot photograph it (perhaps such would detract from its romance), but often we can view photographs and imagine. Certain scenes may transport our minds.

I was at the very edge of our driveway this evening and could smell our tomatoes being lovingly melted into the most gracious marinara sauce. Maybe it was stillness, or maybe it was a slight breeze that carried the scent. Perhaps the slights of red wine on the wing sedated me. Regardless, the power was undeniable, and instantly any last tangles of stress melted away with those tomatoes.

But I digress, I am not writing to you about tomatoes this evening. I offer quite a different smell altogether, but equally as delicious. It is not my exact intention to bombard you with an overflow of squash, but as it stands – we are standing in it. I have a lot of love for this plant and think its eager attitude should be well celebrated.

What seems both celebratory and necessary to me is soup. Soup for all occasions and soup for every ingredient – our conversations heavily consist of what steps we must take to create a cherished bowl of soup. Sometimes the steps are small, sometimes they are long – soup (and the smell of it simmering) is very much loved around these parts. As a nod to the coming transition from summer to autumn I have a soup that may be enjoyed either hot or cold. Summer squash soup with lemon pepper and sage, to be exact.

Everything comes together easy, leaving you with the simple tasks of relishing the moments created by smell and enjoying the meal at hand. August was wonderful. The weather rarely exceeded 90 degrees at its hottest, and we were able to indulge in as much sunshine and rain as we could ever wish for. We witnessed hail a couple of times, but we were readily prepared (and are every time it storms). The garden was a living, breathing entity. Many affirmations stood tall. Wiser for another season, eager for the next.

Summer Squash Soup with Lemon Pepper and Sage

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Ingredients

1-1.5 lb yellow summer squash chopped into 1 inch pieces
1 large onion chopped
4 large cloves garlic roughly chopped
1 tbl butter
3 cups vegetable stock
½ tbl lemon pepper
1 tbl fresh torn sage
shredded parmesan
sour cream/yogurt (optional)

Instructions

the soup: heat butter in a large pot on medium high heat
saute squash and onion until tender, 5-10 minutes
add garlic and saute until fragrant
add vegetable stock, bring to a light boil, and simmer 15 minutes
puree soup to desired consistency. if here you would rather leave some chunks of squash you may certainly do so / garnish with sour cream or yogurt and parmesan crisps
for parmesan crisps: heat oven to 350 degrees. on a slip mat/baking sheet sprinkle mounds of parmesan and lightly press down. bake in oven to golden and crisp, 5-10 minutes.

Notes

soup may be served either hot or cold - it's delicious both ways.

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