Egg-lemon soup

Yesterday I had plans for this post.  I was jazzed to write about the beautiful farmer's market lunch I put together with Amherst friends.  I was ready to rhapsodize about the beauty of seasonal vegetables, to describe the messy murder of a pomegranate that took place in my boyfriend's kitchen.  I had photos taken, cute turns of phrase lined up.  Yesterday, I was all set.

But that post will have to wait for another day.  Today I have a cold, I'm home sick from work, and all I can think about is soup.

Spaghetti alla puttanesca

As the sibling of a picky eater, I want to acknowledge something.  I know that there are people in this world who screw up their faces at the sight of a garlic clove, whose eyes well up with just a whiff of pepper.  There are people who quake in their boots at the mere mention of olives, for whom anchovies are the height of terror.  There are people who demand that food be mild-mannered, lightly seasoned, inoffensive.  I know and love a number of these people.  I pass absolutely no judgment on their eating habits.

If you are one of these people, this is not the recipe for you.  Turn back now.  Here be dragons.

Now that that's out of the way: spaghetti alla puttanesca.  This is a classic Italian sauce, rumored to have been developed in the brothels of southern Italy.  (Wikipedia tells me the literal translation is "whore's spaghetti.")  It's possibly my favorite tomato-based sauce ever--aggressive and entirely unapologetic, with a bracing balance of salt, heat, and vinegar-tang.  There are surely thousands upon thousands of puttanesca recipes in existence; this is mine.

White bean and tomato soup

My grandmother never really liked to cook.  She did it, of course, for many years out of necessity--in the pre-feminist 50's and 60's, with a husband and three daughters to feed, cooking was an inevitability.  And as a good Jewish grandmother, conditioned to shower her family with love in form of food, she continued to make meals for us whenever we visited.

But with the rise of packaged foods, as her children and grandchildren have grown independent and her body has slowly wound down, she's stopped cooking on her own.  Now, at age 87, with a 94-year-old strict-vegan husband, her repertoire in the kitchen is limited to cocktails in the evening and fruit salad in the morning.  Most of her recipes were handed off to my mother long ago; they're Mom's recipes now, and that's how I remember them.

But there's one recipe I do remember well from her kitchen, the only real "grandmother's recipe" I have: white bean and tomato soup.

Curried Lentil Soup

I’ve been traveling a lot over the past month, mostly for job interviews. Looking for a job on the West Coast while living on the East Coast is maybe a little bit crazy, but hey, it’s worth it. DC isn’t a bad place, but I can’t wait to get back to Seattle and all of its wonderful particularities. Not to mention the abundance of farmers’ markets, and fabulous coffee to be found on every other corner!

Jet-setting is fun for a few weeks, but it takes its toll as well: the jet-lag, the screaming baby on the redeye flight, the work that needs finishing when you return . . . October arrived, things finally calmed down, I was about to recover from my exhaustion—and then the weather turned in DC. My poor immune system couldn't handle the combination, and I got hit with a classic case of the common cold. What to do? Make soup, of course.

Chicken stock/vegetable broth

A disclaimer: last week, my beloved camera up and died on me.  It had a good long life--it saw me through three cherished years of college, which is basically a lifetime for any digital doohickey these days.  I am not devastated to see it go.

However, its passing means that I have no photo for my post this week.  Which is fine, because my chosen subject is not glamorous or photogenic.  It is, however, delicious and versatile--two of my favorite words when it comes to food.

Onward!