Beet It

Even though it's not quite here yet, we're fast approaching the culinary dead-zone of winter. In order to avoid the mounting frustrations of only being able to find local organic produce in the shape of tubers and roots, I joined a winter CSA. This of course will not come with the overwhelming bounty of produce that my summer/fall CSA does, so they've filled in the blanks with other products like meat, canned tomatoes, pickled products, cheese, eggs, milk, yogurt and other random goodies. Because there is so much less available this time of year, we only receive our shares once a month instead of once a week. I won't start receiving those shares until about mid-December, but in the meantime I still have some of my old CSA products hibernating in the fridge. You see, after volunteering during the late shift of our final pick-up day, I was able to bring home double the loot. Many people didn't show up, leaving a hefty donation of food for the church where we do our food distribution, in addition to providing those of us volunteering with some extra loot. In addition to sampling the eggs, milk, yogurt and cheese that you can also sign up for (all of which are excellent), I got to take home a few extra pounds of beets, carrots and kale. That all sounded great at the time, but none of these items are all that easy to use day after day (except the kale, which I can eat by the handful).

And as you may have noticed from the lack of posts, I've been dealing with trying to cook with these vegetables all week. I've already roasted beets for pasta (see previous post) and roasted a whole chicken on a bed of gorgeous red fall carrots, which made for a really full-flavored gravy. I've made crispy kale on multiple occasions, not to mention my old standby of super garlicky kale with heaps of spicy red pepper flake and a dash of cider vinegar. By the end of last week I hit a root vegetable wall, not quite sure what to do with what was left. The beets had finally reached a ridiculous size, coming in at almost the size of my head. The carrots weren't as large but I still had three bags worth piling up in the fridge. After doing a bit of searching I found a recipe for (how convenient!) beet and carrot latkes. After reading reviews of the recipe it was suggested by almost everyone that while the latkes themselves were good, they were even better accompanied by a spicy apple-jalapeño salsa. Absolutely loving latkes, I was sold.

The first thing I did do was change up almost all of the spices and serving sizes. I'm a big fan of reading the recipe reviews on any website or blog (which is why I appreciate every single comment I get here), and Epicurious is no different. It seemed unanimous that both recipes made an overwhelming amount of food, so I immediately cut the recipes down by a third. It was also mentioned that the beet latkes were a bit bland, so I added in some more spices. As for the carrot latkes, I'm not a huge fan of cooked carrots and tend to get easily bored with them. But I love the way carrots are prepared at Indian restaurants, so I reduced the amount of ginger the recipe called for and threw in some curry powder (I only wish I'd had curry paste on hand) and a little cayenne for a spicy kick. I didn't change the salsa one bit, as it sounded like a simple stunner of a recipe (and it was). One thing I wish I'd done differently is to have used my food processor to shred the beets and carrots instead of doing it by hand on my cheese grater. While the recipe didn't take too long to prepare, the whole thing would have come together in under 45 minutes had I taken a little technological help. Here's what I finally came up with, but if you'd like to feed an army, the original recipes can be found here and here, as they appeared originally in Bon Appétit and Gourmet respectively.

Curried Carrot Latkes
adapted from Gourmet

3 cups coarsely grated carrots
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
3 teaspoons finely grated peeled fresh ginger
3/4 teaspoon curry powder
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 large egg, lightly beaten
canola or vegetable oil for frying

Place carrots in a large bowl; press with paper towels to absorb any moisture. In another large bowl, whisk flour, salt, baking powder, and pepper to blend. Mix in carrots, ginger, curry and cayenne, followed by the egg.

Heat enough oil in a large skillet to coat the bottom. Working in batches and adding more oil as needed, drop carrot mixture by the heaping tablespoon into skillet and spread into discs. Fry until golden, about 3-4 minutes per side. Transfer latkes to a paper towel covered plate to absorb excess oil. Serve with apple-jalapeño salsa and sour cream.


Spiced Beet Latkes
adapted from Bon Appétit

3 cups coarsely shredded peeled beets
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
3/4 teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 large egg, lightly beaten

Place beets in large bowl; press with paper towels to absorb any moisture. In another large bowl, whisk flour and next 7 ingredients. Mix in beets, then the egg.

Heat enough oil in a large skillet to coat the bottom. Working in batches and adding more oil as needed, drop beet mixture by the heaping tablespoon into skillet and spread into discs. Fry until golden, about 3-4 minutes per side. Transfer latkes to a paper towel covered plate to absorb excess oil. Serve with apple-jalapeño salsa and sour cream.


Apple, Green Onion and Jalapeño Salsa
adapted from Bon Appétit

1 1/2 pounds Fuji apples (about 3 large), peeled, halved, cored
1/2 cup minced green onions
2 tablespoons minced seeded jalapeño chiles
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons honey
4 teaspoons lemon zest

Finely dice apples and transfer to a bowl. Whisk lemon juice, honey, and lemon zest in small bowl to blend; mix into apples. Season salsa to taste with salt and pepper. Cover and chill until ready to serve with latkes. Enjoy!

-Laura

Fresh Pasta

There are only two things that really scare me (actually, three, but I don't see how I can eloquently weave the inherently frightening nature of clowns into this post). One of them is, as I've mentioned many times before, baking from scratch. The other is making fresh pasta, which much like baking generally involves making a dough, albeit a significantly more fickle one. While with baking you're generally safe sticking to a recipe and carefully measuring out your ingredients, pasta making requires a careful eye and an instinct for necessary adjustments. Despite having what I'd like to think of as a keen instinct for cooking, I've always been sure I'd never posses the same talent for pasta making. Having never known the proper consistency of fresh pasta dough, I felt it was reasonable to think that I must be lacking the instinct necessary for perfecting it.

This week however, something changed. Finding that my CSA had run its course (those five months flew by!) and that I'd soon be visiting the farmer's market and grocery store with growing frequency, I decided that I should continue to save money by using what was already in my home. After all, with a fridge full of produce and a few free extras from the CSA (it's good to volunteer on the last shift!), why dole out the cash for anything from the supermarket? And so I planned a meal of fettuccine with roasted beets, beet greens and toasted walnuts, only to realize on the way home that there was no pasta in the house. I considered other options but decided to stick with my plan. I'd spent some time catching up on my food show DVRing recently and learned from Lidia's Italy that you can easily make pasta dough in the food processor, and that it happens to be her preferred method. While I was still dubious about my ability to know how I should adjust the dough, I figured that even if my fresh pasta was a disaster, at the very least it would be a good way to use up all that flour taking up space in my pantry.

It was with feigned confidence that I carefully measured out three cups of flour and briefly pulsed them in the food processor. Then with the motor running I added in the eggs, water and a bit of olive oil. I was immediately set at ease when 20 seconds in, the dough formed into a ball--a sure sign, I'd been told--that I was doing a good job and well on my way to conquering my fear. A mere 10 seconds later I was knocked off my high horse when I stopped the motor to see that a ball of dough had indeed formed, but the rest of the mixture sat pooled at the bottom of the processor bowl. First panicking and then attacking the problem with my general 'I will break you' attitude, I reminded myself that pasta making was all about playing a game of cat and mouse with the dough. If part of the mixture was pooling, that meant it was too wet and sticky (which I confirmed by poking it with my finger and spending five minutes and 3 paper towels trying to get it off). So I added in a tablespoon of flour and continued to run the machine adding flour a tablespoon at a time until the entire mixture came loose and formed a big doughy ball. I poked it one final time and found that it was still moist, but no longer sticky. I'd successfully made what appeared to be good pasta dough.

Although it felt like an eternity, the whole thing took no more than 5 minutes. What I didn't know was that even though I thought the scary part was over, rolling out the dough was actually the hard part. I ignored a tip I'd read that mentioned cutting the dough into 8ths before rolling instead of the traditional 4ths. It didn't explain why so I ignored it, but a few minutes into rolling dough through my machine it became clear that by rolling a piece of dough so large I'd wind up with a three foot long sheet that was difficult to maneuver whist also turning the handle. So despite that one unexpected bump in the road, the whole thing went rather smoothly, and I already have tips for myself and others on how to make the whole thing go even smoother next time. Here's how to make the pasta step-by-step with my tips on how to make the process easier. And if you'd like the recipe for the dish I made with the pasta, just drop me a line--I'd be happy to post it or send it along your way.

Fresh Pasta

3 cups flour
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/3 cup very cold water

1. Add flour to the bowl of a food processor and pulse 3-4 times to aerate. With the motor running, add eggs followed by the oil and cold water. Run the processor until a dough starts to form in the shape of a ball. If the dough is wet and sticky, add a tablespoon of flour and continue to process. Repeat until the dough is no longer sticky. If the dough is hard and dry, add cold water a tablespoon at a time until the dough is moist but not sticky.

2. When the dough is the right consistency, carefully remove it from the food processor and place it on a lightly floured counter top or cutting board. Knead the dough for 1-2 minutes then flatten it into a disc and wrap it tightly in cling wrap. Let it sit at room temperature for at least 30 minutes. If you'd like to freeze it for future use, leave it in your freezer for up to a month (defrost it in your fridge and let it come to room temperature before rolling it out when you finally use it).

3. Divide the dough into 8ths and carefully roll it out using a pasta machine (or pasta attachment on your stand mixer). Begin on the widest setting and continue running pasta through each setting until it is at the desired thickness for the type of noodle you'd like to make. Make sure to toss your cut noodles with a light dusting of flour to keep them from sticking to each other (skip this for stuffed pastas). It shouldn't take more than 2 minutes to cook your pasta in salted, boiling water. Enjoy!

-Laura

Top Veg

Do you watch Top Chef? I've been a fan since the show premiered six seasons ago, and although I haven't found the show as interesting as I did during it's first few seasons, I continue to watch because despite the entertainment deficit, the talent's stock has definitely gone up (not to mention that even at its worst, it's light years better than all of the other food competition shows--I'm looking at you Next Food Network Star). After a few seasons of ho-hum contestants and no clear front-runners, this season's cast boasts several executive chefs, James Beard Award nominees, and a duo of DC-area brothers whose dishes never disappoint. The cast runs fairly young, but you wouldn't know it from their performance and the sophisticated dishes many of them churn out week after week. There's finally been a clear top few since this season began, and those in that limited club have rarely faltered.

That was of course until the most recent episode last week. The gang was asked to cook a great meal for a special guest at head judge Tom Colicchio's Las Vegas resto CraftSteak. They all immediately began plotting how to attack a meat heavy menu when in typical reality show fashion, they sprung vegan shoe designing vegetarian Natalie Portman on the disappointed pack. Somehow managing to make gorgeous, seasonal produce look like overcooked side dishes from The Sizzler, chef after chef presented poorly executed, poorly thought out dishes to the diners. While I am generally quite the fan of meaty meals, I take my vegetables seriously as well. I typically make 2-3 vegetarian dinners a week that do a perfectly good job of leaving me full and satisfied while also being tasty (if I do say so myself). How most of these chefs failed to manage that with far more at their fingertips than is available to me on any given day is a mystery. While the chefs were bombarded with their true mission minutes before executing, I can't believe that so many of them managed to completely forget that by losing their meat element they were also losing protein, an integral part of any dish, vegetarian or not. While I'm not a chef, I do know that when I'm planning a meatless meal I do my best to incorporate a protein and a starch any way I can--it's really balance that's key for any hearty and satisfying meal, regardless of whether there's meat. Fall is actually a great time for healthy, filling vegetarian meals since we have everything from brussels sprouts and beets to squash, pomegranate and eggplant, not to mention all types of potatoes. I like to take braising greens to task since there's an abundance of kale, collards and swiss chard, not to mention beet, turnip and mustard greens this time of year. I'm shocked that not one chef used legumes (well...one tried, but her fresh garbanzo beans were a flop) since they not only pair extremely well with greens, but are packed full of protein. There was just one risotto on the side and no fresh pasta at all, both starches being excellent potential platforms for all of that fresh produce.

And so, last week, inspired by the Top Chef challenge I made what I think is a tasty and filling vegetarian dinner of kale, chick peas and turnips. I served it with a side of couscous and some crunchy oven roasted brussels sprouts to start (if you leave them in there long enough they'll crisp up into crunchy, rotund chips, like over-sized wasabi peas). This is a fast and affordable take on Kevin's winning dish, which consisted of a mushroom duo with smoked kale and a candied ginger and turnip puree. Having received both kale and turnips in my CSA it was the perfect inspiration. Trying to use only what was in my fridge and pantry (since I certainly cannot afford morels and they're out of season anyway) I decided to make one hearty dish that consisted of the kale, turnips and a can of chick peas (but white beans or even lentils would have been tasty too!) sauteed with garlic and accented with a little apple cider vinegar. It turned out great and I can definitely say that I was stuffed afterward. Here's my final recipe, and here's hoping that the final six on the show catch some wind in their sails, because I expect more!

Sauteed Kale with Turnips and Chick Peas

1 lb kale, stems removed and leaves chopped
3 medium sized turnips, peeled and roughly diced, greens also chopped
1 15 oz can chickpeas (or cooked dried chickpeas) drained and rinsed
2 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
extra virgin olive oil (about 3 Tbsp)
1 Tbsp butter
salt
black pepper

1. Heat olive oil, butter and garlic in a large, non-stick skillet. Cook on medium low heat 30 seconds (garlic should not brown) then add turnips. Cook until just starting to soften, about 2 minutes.

2. Add kale in batches until it all fits in the pan. Season generously with salt and black pepper, then add chick peas, cider vinegar and turnip greens, tossing to coat. Continue cooking on medium heat, tossing occasionally until kale is cooked, another 2-3 minutes. Taste for seasoning and adjust accordingly (kale often needs a lot more salt and acid than other greens). Enjoy!

-Laura

Above the Fold

I haven't had the chance to post about this sooner, but I'm sure that most of you have heard that Gourmet magazine has folded, it's final issue hitting newsstands this month. As someone who puts together magazines for a living, the news was devastating, traveling through my office like the world's most depressing game of telephone where everyone hopes they've misunderstood. But aside from the fact that with every magazine that closes my industry's survival rate drops dramatically, this particular closure hit me on a deeper level. I've worked for some wonderful magazines comprised of hard-working people who really manage to pull out some great work considering the kind of deadlines we work under month after month. But whenever someone asked me what magazine I'd most like to work for, the answer was always Gourmet.

From the photography to the philosophy, it's the mainstream magazine that most embodied what I believe in from a food point of view. I've always been a huge fan of its editor-in-chief, Ruth Reichl, and loved reading her books chronicling her time as the New York Times' controversial restaurant critic in the 90's. Her book Garlic and Sapphires talks about how she came to her job at Gourmet and how she initially felt quite undeserving of the position. What some considered her "radical" ideas were just what the magazine needed to bring in a young and informed audience looking for more than just a digest of recipes. From hiring writers like the late David Foster Wallace to investigating food slavery, Reichl not only invigorated the magazine with important and timely content, but made it clear that it wasn't a magazine about restaurants or chefs, but about food and the people that are affecting it.

And so it's apropos that as the Thanksgiving-themed final issue hit stands, I learned that I'd be cooking and hosting my first Thanksgiving dinner. While I've combed my stacks (and stacks, and stacks, and stacks...) of food magazines looking for ideas on how to make this Thanksgiving special, I continue to turn to my piles of Gourmet for inspiration. As someone who appreciates the magazine from all facets, whether it be as a magazine professional, a food stylist or an avid reader, I'm making myself a promise to keep Gourmet in mind this Thanksgiving. They have an excellent cookbook that also just hit bookstores and that I'm eager to peruse in person, not to mention the new PBS series, Gourmet's Adventures with Ruth. If you'd like to hear more from Ruth in the aftermath of the magazine folding, NPR had a great interview with her where she discusses food, the magazine and her recent memoir. I really enjoyed hearing her touch on what she would have done had she known the November issue would be not only her last, but the magazine's. Listen to that interview here, and I'll be back posting more recipes and updates on my Thanksgiving meal planning.

-Laura

The Forgotten Grain

A few weeks ago I visited the New Amsterdam Market in downtown Manhattan. Standing in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, this multi-purveyor, outdoor market is a tribute to the great old market halls of New York which operated much in the fashion of the now (sadly) defunct Les Halles market in Paris, bringing affordable, trustworthy and locally sourced products to the masses. The stalls at New Amsterdam are made up of vendors who source their food and products directly from the farmers and producers who create them. From the excellent butchers of Brooklyn to the cheesemongers of Manhattan and all of the purveyors in between, the market provided me with a lot of culinary inspiration, in addition to encouraging me to spend, spend, spend. Among my many purchases were fresh tomatillos (10 for $1.00!), two jalapeños (for a mere 28 cents) the cheese I used for my roasted tomato soup and grilled cheese dinner a while back, and a big bag of farro. While I'll admit the farro was a bit of an impulse purchase, I'd heard so much about it in recent months that I couldn't resist.

Before rice, corn, and spelt, there was farro, the grain that once fed the entire Mediterranean and that has recently been touted as "the forgotten grain". Southern Europe (Italy especially) subsisted on this super nutty and chewy ingredient for thousands of years before trade brought rice to the continent and corn crossed the Atlantic (it's said to have fed the Roman legions across Europe). There was no risotto or polenta in Italy, no paella in Spain, just cooked or ground farro, which was often eaten porridge style, much like polenta is today. Sadly for farro it's a low-yielding crop, meaning that high volume new world crops likes corn and rice didn't have much trouble kicking it to the curb. In addition to providing more bang for the ancient buck, the new grains were also faster to prepare and infinitely more versatile. But thanks to innovative and health-minded chefs, farro has made a comeback outside of northern Italian cooking (where it's considered a regional mainstay). Farro is a hulled wheat, and much like brown rice, the protective outer bran layer remains on the grain, meaning that it is not only less processed than many grains, but also much more nutritious with a chewier texture.

As a lover of quinoa, couscous and all quick cooking carbs I must admit that farro's lengthy cooking time does not please me. In addition to taking 50 minutes to a hour to cook it also requires soaking beforehand in order to cut the cooking time down (not unlike what one does with dried legumes). Despite these characteristics I've come to enjoy farro very much. It's highly flavorful on it's own, with a deep nutty flavor stronger than that of brown rice, and with an even harder bite that makes it seem permanently al dente. Its flavor makes farro a perfect foil for steaks or meats with a good deal of gravy or sauce for sopping. It won't absorb all the liquid so your meat stays moist, but it adds a nice companion flavor so you can easily compose the perfect bite. I made mine to go with a steak and a light sherry-mushroom gravy. I added in a few turnips and their greens at the last minute, which made for a really well rounded meal. Even though it won't serve me well for last minute dinners the way other grains do, I'll definitely keep farro in mind when I'm planning my next meaty meal (I'm thinking maybe for the next time I tackle duck...).

Farro

1 cup farro
4 cups water or stock
1 tsp salt
1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1. Place farro in a large bowl and cover generously with cold water. Allow to soak for at least an hour (you can even leave it overnight).

2. Drain farro well. Heat olive oil in a pot and add farro. Saute for 2-3 minutes then add water or stock and salt and bring to a boil. Cook covered until farro is tender but al dente, 45 minutes to an hour (the cook time will depend on how long you allowed it to soak). Drain and serve. Enjoy!

*For my favorite way to eat farro, reserve a little bit of the water/stock after draining. Return the farro to its pot and fold in your favorite greens (kale is perfect) and cook over medium-low heat, adding water/stock 1/4 cup at a time if necessary. Cook covered until the kale is done.

-Laura

Learning to Love: Fennel

I've always thought people were full of it when they said, "...you either love it or you hate it!" about pretty much anything. I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of people who aren't passionate either way about corn, Dancing with the Stars or leggings, among other things. But I finally realized that there was indeed one thing people really felt torn on: licorice. I have yet to meet anyone that shrugs their shoulders and says, 'eh' when asked if they like it (and if it's you, please let me know), instead always hearing proclamations of disgust or lust. I've always hated anything that tasted remotely of licorice, whether it was a jelly bean, sambuca or grilled fennel. But thanks to my CSA and the overall seasonal eating trend I've come face to face with fennel in more iterations than I care to remember. From cold fennel shooters to grilled fennel salad and fennel pollen dusted sweetbreads, try as I might to escape it each fall I can't, and last week it caught up with me in my CSA box. For once I hoped that I'd arrived too late, that all of the fennel had been taken by the licorice loving foodies of the group, but alas it seemed there was plenty left for me to experiment with. So I trotted home with it in my tote and began to wonder what I could possibly do with one of my most hated flavors.

I eventually settled on a soup since that was the one fennel flavored dish I had ever managed to enjoy. I looked back on the fennel soup I'd tasted almost exactly a year ago at Blue Hill at Stone Barns for inspiration. Our server had asked if there were any ingredients we did not like, and not wanting to limit the chef's creativity (even though I knew it was fennel season), we said no--we're open to anything. So imagine how far my heart sank when the first course to come out of the kitchen was a bowl of fennel soup. Much to my surprise it was pure white and velvety on the tongue with just the lightest air of fennel. It wasn't in-your-face fennel but its presence was definitely felt and tasted. Except for a handful of things (say...bacon or cheese) I generally feel that everything in moderation is a good mantra to follow and it seems like fennel is at its best when used in that way.

Armed with the memory of a soup I hadn't tasted in a year, I headed into the kitchen to make what I hoped would be a close approximation in both flavor and texture to the one at Blue Hill. In the end I decided that potato would be the perfect foil for softening the fennel's flavor and adding some body to the whole soup. I began by peeling and chopping the potatoes into fairly small chunks (so they take only 10-15 minutes to cook through) and then boiling them in salted water. Meanwhile I added 2 chopped scallions (for a mellow onion flavor), 2 roughly chopped garlic cloves and the chopped fennel to a non-stick skillet with two tablespoons of butter. I seasoned the mixture lightly with salt and let it sweat until everything was softened. Then I drained the potatoes, reserving 2 cups of the cooking liquid for thinning out the soup in the blender. Then I tossed the potatoes and the fennel mixture into the blender along with 1 cup of chicken stock to help it blend. Then I slowly added the warm cooking liquid until I got a silky smooth texture. It didn't even end up needing any salt or pepper, and it came together in about half an hour total. The soup wound up tasting exactly as I'd wanted. It was clearly a creamy fennel soup (with no actual cream), but the flavor was subtle and smooth. I can't say that I'm completely in love with fennel, but like so many things (Britney Spears, perhaps?) I've learned to live with it's existence, and even enjoy it in small doses. Here's the final recipe:

Creamy Fennel Soup

1 small fennel bulb, roughly chopped
2 green onions/scallions, chopped
2 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
2 large or 3 small Idaho potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
2 Tbsp butter
1 cup chicken stock (non-tomato based veggie stock would work here too)

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until done, about 15 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, heat the butter in a non-stick skillet and cook garlic, green onions and fennel on medium low heat until softened, about 7 minutes. Season with salt while cooking

3. Drain the potatoes, reserving about 2 cups of the cooking liquid for the soup. Allow them a few minutes to cool, then add potatoes and fennel mixture to a blender along with the chicken stock. Puree and add reserved cooking liquid until the soup thins out to a velvety consistency. Taste for salt and serve topped with croutons or fennel fronds. Enjoy!

-Laura

Roast With The Most

I've long been told that grilled cheese and tomato soup is a common and beloved kid meal, even though I've never actually seen one eat it, let alone beg for it or demonstrate the kind of enthusiasm that comes pouring out for pizza, hamburgers and french fries. But then again I grew up in a home with foreign parents who made me slightly more exotic lunchtime treats like chickpeas with spinach and cod or chicken liver paté on toast. And while those definitely don't sound like kid-pleasers, the gift of hindsight has shown me that I was probably a total weirdo as a tyke. I've never really loved tomato soup, especially the overly seasoned and highly spiced ones I typically find in most restaurants (it turns out that you can definitely have too much oregano). But I do love gazpacho and this summer I had the best tomato soup of my life at The Harrison in Tribeca, here in downtown NYC. So as I mulled over what to do with the last of summer's tomatoes, I figured I should finally try my hand at making a good tomato soup--and to pair it with my own grilled cheese.

The first order of business was to elevate the meal to a more "grown-up" level. That came easy for the soup since all I had to do was take a page from the sublime soup at The Harrison, where the tomatoes were roasted until they were black and deflated, folding over on themselves, developing a sweeter more complex flavor. It made all the difference in the world, lending a smoky essence to the soup that hit your nose before the plate even hit the table. Flecked with minute pieces of char, the orange colored soup was full of fresh tomato flavor with a hint of roasted garlic. To achieve the same effect I tossed three fat garlic cloves--skins still on--onto the baking sheet with the tomatoes. The garlic took on a sweet, roasted flavor that balanced perfectly with the slightly acidic tomatoes. And the easiest part was that all I had to do was toss everything on a baking sheet with the tiniest bit of olive oil. After about 45 minutes my tomatoes were blistered and worn, and the garlic soft and sweet. After a few minutes of cooling time I threw everything in the blender and pureed it with some shallots and herbs that I quickly sauteed while the tomatoes cooled, slowly adding chicken stock when necessary (my tomatoes were plenty juicy, so I mostly added more liquid to help the blender do its thing).

Once that was done I moved on to the sandwich, which for my purposes took on the form of a garlic and butter slicked cheese bread instead of a traditional sandwich. By eliminating the other piece of bread I not only removed the added carb-factor, but I also made what can be considered and extra large crouton that was perfect for dipping into the soup. It was your basic garlic, butter and parsley slathered bread that I topped with a delicious raw cow and goats milk cheese (also sprinkled onto the center of the soup just before serving). So in the end I was unbelievably happy with the results. The Harrison's soup had an even more intense flavor than mine did, but without harassing the kitchen staff which runs a seasonal kitchen and no longer serves the soup, I don't expect to ever get their exact recipe. Regardless, I found that I was certainly converted to a tomato soup fan, albeit one with somewhat high standards at the moment. But I'm sure I'll get there, and hopefully this little experiment will encourage others to find the kid in them and put their childhood dishes to the grown-up test. Here's the final recipe for the soup:

Roasted Tomato Soup

2 lbs tomatoes, quartered
3 garlic cloves, unpeeled
1 large (or two very) small shallots, chopped
1/4 tsp dried oregano
1/4 tsp dried thyme
1 1/2 cups chicken or vegetable broth (low sodium if possible)
extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Spread tomatoes (skin side down) and garlic out on an aluminum foil lined tin and drizzle very lightly with olive oil. Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until tomatoes are wilted and browned. Set them aside to cool.

2. Meanwhile, saute the shallots, oregano and thyme in 1 tablespoon of olive oil until softened and fragrant. Puree mixture in a blender along with the tomatoes and garlic. Slowly add in broth 1/4 of a cup at a time until the desired consistency is reached. Run soup through a fine mesh strainer or sieve and into a pot to reheat. Taste for salt and pepper and serve. Enjoy!

-Laura