Autumn Vegetable Soup Recipe

I've signed up to receive vegetables through the winter via my local farmer's market, so this week I decided to get in gear by trying to rustle up a soup made mainly of the kinds of ingredients I'll still be getting in midwinter. It turned out very well, and Jonathan ate it all up two days running, which around this household is considered a victory indeed.

One point: I'm not fond of gadgetry in general, but I once had a roommate who owned a Braun immersion blender, and I missed it after we went our separate ways. Lately I've been looking at them, and found them too expensive to justify getting one; however, I spotted one in fine working order for $6 at the local thrift store. After a thorough cleaning, I'm delighted with it, and it makes all the difference with the texture of a soup like this one.

Also, you could use a whole squash and a whole cauliflower, but we had already eaten parts of ours, so I have faithfully transcribed what actually went into the soup I made.

• Olive oil
• 2 carrots, 2 shallots, 2 stalks of celery, all chopped very fine
• ¾ head of cauliflower, ¾ butternut squash, 2 sweet potatoes, all roughly chopped
• 1 tbsp each of dried sage, thyme and oregano 
• 2 tiny dried Thai chilis, sliced in half
• 8 cups of homemade or store-bought chicken broth
• Salt to taste (not needed if you use commercial broth)
• (optional) black pepper, chopped chives, sour cream, yogurt and/or grated cheese for garnish

1. Cover the bottom of a good-sized soup pot with olive oil.
2. Over a medium flame, toss in the carrots, shallots and celery (that'd be a mirepoix) and sizzle them, stirring occasionally, until the shallots are starting to brown slightly.
3. Toss in the dried  herbs and the chilis, and stir to wake them up.
4. Add the broth, stir and bring to a rolling boil. Turn down heat and boil very gently, partly covered, until the vegetables are soft. Use an immersion blender to purée the mixture.
5. Serve hot with a garnish of your choice.

It would be easy to vary this soup according to the ingredients at hand. For instance, you could use onions instead of shallots, potatoes instead of sweet potatoes, or a vegetable broth instead of chicken broth. Whatever the specifics, I'm feeling one step closer to being ready for winter.

Port Wines for the Holidays

My idea of port was formed by a childhood friend whose family liked always to spend some of the evenings around Christmas sipping port and cracking open walnuts before a roaring fire. With that idea still firmly lodged in my mind, I had a chance to attend yesterday's port and Douro wines tasting, and took note specifically of fairly affordable bottles that might figure in that particular scenario.

Among the Douro wines (from the Douro Valley in Portugal), one of the bargains was the Veedha DOC 2008 (LCBO #255851). At $12.95, it's a great, spicy, juicy, gentle, slightly sweet red wine that would go over well at the next chili night. Veedha, incidentally, means "life", and 50 cents will be donated to an environmental charity for each bottle purchased. Can't beat that.

I was sorry that the Quinta do Vallado 2009, priced at $19.95, is not available at the LCBO; their smoky, juicy, peppery Quinta do Vallado Touriga National (Vintages #137018) is, but it costs $32. (I tried the 2009; LCBO carries the 2007). I'm also hoping the LCBO picks up the Quinta do Infantado Douro Red Wine 2009 ($21.95). This passionate family-run company makes only single-vineyard wines, and this one had a shiraz quality, with a lovely strawberry-pepper nose and a gentle, balanced, juicy, spicy taste.

At the Graham's table, I was impressed by the Chryseia 2007, a deep purple Douro wine reminiscent of rich raisins, dates, fig jam and spices. It goes for a pricy $73.95, but only 60 cases were made, so it won't be available to the general public. In Toronto, you may perhaps find it on the wine list at Canoe.

After the Douros, I moved on to the port wines. These can be kept open for a week or so; the prices reflect their potential to be sipped and enjoyed on more than one evening. I tried six different ports from Warre's, and to my taste the best value seemed to be the Quinta da Cavadinha Vintage Port 1996 for $44.30 (Vintages #189605). It's dark brown, with a scent of dates and figs and a pronounced caramel flavour. Vintage ports are supposed to be kept for a while, so it might be worth buying one of these and opening it a few years down the road.

More affordable among the ports is the Quinta da Noval Black (LCBO #235689). It's a strong wine that conjures up molasses and raisins, priced at $24.95. The big bargain, though, was the Sandeman VAU Vintage Port (LCBO #251090). Granted, it doesn't have the magnificent and complex flavours of some of the more costly bottles, but for just $19.95 you'll get a dark brown-red wine that smells pleasantly of raisins, butter and brown sugar, strong and warming, with a taste like butter tarts.

Finally, Taylor Fladgate is generally known as a dependable, good-value brand. Yesterday I sampled seven of their ports, ranging in price from $17.95 right on up to their $275 Vargellas Vinha Velha 2009, of which only 300 cases are being circulated worldwide, with as few as 10 available in Ontario. So good luck getting your hands on this inky-red wine that bursts with dark chocolate and vanilla flavours.

However, there is good news: for a comparatively less splurgy $67.95, you could pick up a bottle of their delicious 20 Year Old Tawny (LCBO #149047). It's a golden-copper liquid that's redolent of fruity Christmas pudding with brandy-butter hard sauce. There's also a Ten Year Old Tawny for $34.95 (LCBO #121749). It has a pale brown-red colour, a scent that will remind you of cognac, and a taste like rich dark maple syrup.

There were dozens more bottles on offer, and I did my best to work my way through them, but even when you're spitting most of it out, port is a heady drink that makes its way into your pores and clouds your judgement so an amateur like me can't hope to do justice to a roomful of bottles like these. I can only say I did my best, and look forward to more such chances in the future.

Smoked Trout Rillette for #Charcutepalooza

Well, I was prepared to be grouchy about this one. Truth is, I'm hanging on to Charcutepalooza by by fingernails. The day I had to try this recipe I also had to squeeze in moving furniture out of my office to be ready for the contractor who's going to give me paint-ready walls and a wooden floor; design, cut and sew a Victorian cycling outfit for the Tweed Ride, and cook something with 15 pounds of local pawpaws, which I've never seen before. Oh, and did I mention work? (It remains to be seen how many of these deadlines I'll end up meeting.)

At risk of sounding as though I'm complaining, I found that smoked trout rillettes are a breeze to make. Not (as vaunted) thrifty, though. Smoked local trout runs about $35 a pound hereabouts, so it cost about $10 a ramekin to make a dish that is – though decidedly delicious – normally off the menu for me (because of all the butter).

That said, I was intrigued as the way the hot butter boiled up into a froth when I added the fish. I was wondering what was happening at the molecular level when the butterfat met the fish oil. Some kind of crazy emulsification, I'd be guessing. The wine would help that along. And I got a lot of satisfaction from using up a bunch of garden chives, which are still nice even at this late season.

Here's the finished product, which will be served with baguettes, sautéd greens and lightly mashed root vegetables. I'm sure it will be delicious. I just can't see doing it again very often.

Pawpaw Experiments

This week I was given the opportunity by the folks at Not Far From the Tree to play with some local pawpaws, a fruit I've never before had the chance to cook with. To me they conjure up the American South, and the homey wisdom of Huckleberry Finn, Brer Rabbit and their ilk. But we here in Toronto are part of the Carolinian ecosystem, so we have fauna and flora like opposums and pawpaws here too.

Turns out a pawpaw looks like a small green mango. Inside, though, its flesh is mealier, and almost full of rather attractive large dark seeds (see photo), which don't leave much room for pulp. The skin is like that of a pear. They seem to have a very narrow window between underripe and overripe; not unlike bananas, which they also somewhat resemble.

The scent and flavour are somewhat like a cross between a mango and a banana; they have the gentle sweetness of those fruits, with a firmer texture than a banana, but none of the sharp bright citrus tang of a mango. When they ripen, they rapidly turn brown.

I initially thought I'd make jam with them, but when I smelled and tasted them, I couldn't imagine they'd make a good jam. The pulp is too mealy, and the flavour too subtle. Also, they are said to lose the best of their flavour when heated too long, so boiling for half an hour seemed like a bad idea.

Many sources said they bake well in the same kinds of recipes as bananas, so ultimately I made muffins of them. I used quite a few blackened, overripe ones (after all, black bananas bake beautifully.) They smelled and tasted just fine, and were easier to prep than the underripe ones. The brown ones did have a marked caramel smell and taste, which some sources described as unpleasant, but which I rather like. The bowl above contains the golden pulp that's a mix of white, less ripe, and browner, riper, fruit.

The muffins – which smell great – will be served up, as will some of my sumach jelly and my wild grape and apple jelly, at Not Far From the Tree's upcoming festive harvest event.