Soup/Stew

Chestnuts have a subtle but distinctive flavor; another, less-well-known attribute is their ability to lend a rich, creamy texture to anything in which they’re pureed—making cream completely superfluous. This soup is a perfect example, and if you can find frozen, peeled chestnuts, it’s the work of a moment. But even if you cannot, the chestnut-peeling process takes about twenty minutes start to finish, and much of that time is unattended; you can use it to chop and cook the vegetables. In a way, starting from scratch with whole chestnuts is preferable, because they gain a bit of flavor as you toast them lightly to remove the skins.

This is a stew of carrots, spinach, and rice cooked, you might say, to death. I first ate it at a Turkish lunch counter and was taken by its depth of flavor. The whole is definitely greater than the sum of its parts.

The soup draws its main flavors from olive oil, cured meat, and watercress. It gains substance and supporting flavors from the peas and a little onion. The combination is delicious, warming, and celebratory in a rustic way. I like to serve with a bottle of Tabasco or any vinegar hot sauce at the table.

Always cook the vegetables for a creamy soup until tender, but no more than that. Spinach is tender in a couple of minutes; potatoes, cut into chunks, will require no more than ten or fifteen. Almost nothing will take longer than that. Cover the pot while the vegetables cook to prevent too much of the stock from evaporating.

Usually, pumpkin means pie, a limited role for a large vegetable that is nearly ubiquitous from Labor Day through Christmas. But soup based on pumpkin—or other winter squash like acorn or butternut—is a minimalist’s dream, a luxuriously creamy dish that requires little more than a stove and a blender. If there is a challenge here, it lies in peeling the squash. The big mistake many people make is to attack it with a standard vegetable peeler; the usual result is an unpeeled pumpkin and a broken peeler. A quicker and more reliable method is to cut the squash up into wedges; then rest each section on a cutting board and use a sharp, heavy knife to cut away the peel. You’ll wind up taking part of the flesh with it, but given the large size and small cost of winter squash, this is hardly a concern.

Leftover Broccoli—maybe that you boiled or steamed as a simple side dish—is a super candidate for this soup. (You may even find yourself making more broccoli than you can eat, as I do, specifically so you can turn it into this soup the next day.) To use leftovers, rinse off any remnants of dressing with hot water, add it to the pan after you’ve cooked away the garlic’s raw taste, and proceed without any additional cooking.

This is a cabbage soup with a difference; the apples add sweetness, crunch, and complexity.

Even as they become increasingly common, there remains something special, even exotic, about mushrooms. And combining their various forms allows you to make a splendid and impressive soup in less than half an hour. The best-tasting dried mushrooms are dried porcini (also called cèpes), which have come down about 50 percent in price over the last few years (do not buy less than an ounce or so at a time—you can buy them by the pound, too—or you’ll be paying way too much). Or you can start with inexpensive dried shiitakes, readily available in Asian markets (where they’re also called black mushrooms), or any other dried fungus, or an assortment. An assortment of fresh mushrooms is best, but you can simply rely on ordinary button (white) mushrooms or shiitakes (whose stems, by the way, are too tough to eat).

Asparagus is one of the few vegetables that remains true to its season; though you can buy it earlier than ever, and it stays around later than ever, it’s still pretty much a spring vegetable. You can save yourself some time by using thin asparagus; if you use thicker stalks, peel them first or the soup will be fibrous. Be especially careful whenever you puree hot liquid; do it in smaller batches to avoid spattering.

This Thai soup, like most European soups, begins with chicken stock. You can use canned stock if you like, because the added ingredients here are so strong that all you really need from the base is a bit of body. (Good homemade stock has better body than canned stock, of course; use it if you have it.) You can find all of these ingredients at almost any supermarket, and if you don’t have luck at yours, try an Asian market, where they are as common as carrots, celery, and onions. (And if you do go to an Asian market, pick up some rice or bean thread noodles, which require almost no cooking time and turn this dish into a meal.) You don’t need oyster mushrooms, by the way—fresh shiitakes or even white button mushrooms are just as good. All you really need to know is that lemongrass must be trimmed of its outer layers before being minced and nam pla (fish sauce) keeps forever in your pantry (and tastes much better than it smells).

Although clam chowder takes many guises, the best is a simple affair that has as its flavorful essence the juices of the clams themselves. And as long as you begin with fresh clams, these juices are easily extracted and reserved; the minced clam meat becomes a garnish. Hardshell clams, often called littlenecks, cherrystones, or quahogs, are a must for this chowder; cockles, which are smaller, will also work well. Steamers (which have softer shells) will make the chowder sandy. If you like, try finishing the chowder with a little cream for both color and silkiness.

Anyone who’s ever had a garden or raided a corn field knows that when corn is young you can eat it cob and all and that the cob has as much flavor as the kernels. That flavor remains even when the cob has become inedibly tough, and you can take advantage of it by using it as the base of a corn chowder—a corn stock, if you will. Into that stock can go some starch for bulk, a variety of seasonings from colonial to contemporary, and, finally, the corn kernels. The entire process takes a half hour or a little bit longer, and the result is a thick, satisfying, late summer chowder.

Water-based soups are great, but many soups are indisputably better when made with meat stock. Of course you don’t always have stock, and there are short cuts that produce in-between soups. One of the easiest and most effective ways of making a potent soup quickly and without stock is to start with a small piece of prosciutto or other dry-cured ham. The long aging process this meat undergoes—almost always a year or more—ensures an intense flavor that is quickly transferred to anything in which it is cooked, including water. To save time, chop the vegetables and add them one at a time while you’re rendering the ham; by the time you’re done chopping, you’ll have added all the ingredients except water. And if you bring the water to a boil before you begin chopping, you really minimize cooking time, producing a thick, rich soup in less than thirty minutes. Do not omit the final drizzle of olive oil; its freshness really brings this soup to life.

In its traditional form, this cold potato-and-leek soup borders on boring: potatoes, leeks (or onions or a combination), water or stock, salt and pepper, butter, and cream. What little complexity the soup has comes from butter, lots of salt and pepper, good stock, and, of course, cream. But if you add other vegetables, like garlic and carrots, things become more interesting. And you can nudge the soup over into gazpacho territory by adding a tomato to the mix, along with basil. Some protein, like shrimp, can turn it into more of a whole-meal soup.

Most soups have origins, but none more so than this Mediterranean one of France, whose antecedent is usually called something like boiled water. At its most impoverished, this is no more than garlic simmered in water to give it flavor, with a few crusts of bread added for bulk. Simple as it is, boiled water is the perfect example of how an almost absurdly elementary preparation can be converted quickly and easily into one that is nearly grand. Use stock in place of water if you have it. This is a fine place for canned stock, because the garlic-scented oil will boost it to a higher level. Remember to cook the garlic very gently to add complexity and color; by then browning the bread in the same oil, you increase its flavor immeasurably. Also consider doubling the amount of bread given in the recipe here; like me, you may find the allure of bread crisped in garlic-scented oil irresistible.

If Stracciatella is egg drop soup’s less-well-known cousin, avgolemono is its neglected stepchild and it can be prepared easily, quickly, and almost effortlessly from ingredients that most of us always have on hand.

Egg Drop Soup, a cliché in American-Chinese restaurants for at least fifty years, has a less-well-known Italian counterpart called stracciatella. Both are based on the simple fact that eggs scramble or curdle in boiling water or stock, and each demonstrates the ease with which a basic dish can be transformed in spirit, moving from one cuisine to the other almost as quickly as you can change your mind about which you prefer.

Egg drop soup is best flavored with soy sauce, plenty of chopped scallions, and a bit of sesame oil. Starting with a good chicken stock will yield the best results, but purchased stock can be substituted in a pinch.

Fresh peas are inestimably better than frozen for munching, but by the time you cook them and mix them with ginger, they have lost much of their advantage; if you can’t find them or deal with them—the shelling does take a while—by all means use frozen.

This Soup is on the thin, almost drinkable, side. If that doesn’t appeal to you, use sour cream, perhaps a bit more than the quantity recommended here, or throw a peeled, diced potato in with the peas, which will give the final soup quite a bit of heft.