Mexican Meatball Soup with Limes

On a beautiful Sunday in March of 2006, I left my apartment in Jerusalem and drove due north for about 200 km, until I arrived at Moshav Shtula, which sits on the border between Israel and Lebanon. (On the border, as in: on my morning run, I got about 10 minutes before hitting the UN blue line and turning around.) I went to spend a week with Sara Hatan, a Kurdish immigrant who had raised her family (14 children!) on Shtula and established a reputation as an excellent cook. My friend Neil, who sent me to Sara, told me that people came to visit her restaurant from across the tiny country. They said her kubbeh was the best they'd ever had. And friends, as excited as I was to spend the week washing Sara's dishes and waiting on Shtula's guests, what led me there in the first place was kubbeh.

Kubbeh are meat-filled bulgur and semolina dumplings that are either fried and served as an appetizer, or boiled and plunked into soup. I was after boiled kubbeh, specifically those that find their way into kubbeh hamusta, a sour, sorrel-based soup that I love.

Sara taught me to make kubbeh hamusta. By "taught," I mean that she poured water into a big pot until the water rose halfway up her arm, then said -- in Kurdish-inflected Hebrew -- "See how much water to use? Good." She shaped five kubbeh in record time, without even looking down, and then had me do one.  I started to curl the semolina dough around the meat, when before I knew it, she'd snatched the thing right out of my hand, managing to salvage it in the nick of time. Over five days cooking with Sara, I five pounds fuller and (maybe?) five pennies wiser. She was hilarious and accomplished, but she had no interest in teaching me. Fortunately, the internet exists. I've since taught myself to make a not-all-together terrible kubbeh hamusta.

I recently learned that kubbeh hamusta is just one in a large family of sour meat-based soups. According to my brother, soups like this exist in Turkey and elsewhere across the Middle East. Needless to say, I want to try them all. For now, I'm settling for two. The second? Agrio.

Agrio comes from Henry's mom, who is Syrian-Mexican. Henry's wife Rachel -- possibly more obsessed with Agrio than I -- shared this recipe, and for a while, all we did when we saw each other was gush about how delicious it is.

The basic idea is this: make little meatballs, the float them and little baby potatoes in a broth full of celery, parsley, and spearmint. Just before serving, squeeze a whole bag of limes into the soup. You wind up with something not unlike kubbeh hamusta: salty, meaty, and surprisingly, pleasingly, sour.

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I was going to say that this was by far the best thing I served over the high holidays, but then I remembered that insane lamb shoulder and possibly my best batch of challot, ever. So it's a close contest. But this was a huge hit, and I'm thrilled to have yet another sour, meaty soup in my arsenal.

Agrioadapted from Rachel's mother-in-law's recipe Serves 4-6

Like all good family recipes -- like kubbeh hamusta, come to think of it -- the original formula for Agrio contains the occasional measurement, but mostly refers to quantities like "a bunch" or offers no quantities at all. ("Some beef broth" is one item in the recipe.) The quantities offered here, therefore, are very flexible. Feel free to alter them if you prefer a different balance, or if you only have 3 limes but still want to make the soup. But don't skimp on the parsley; you really do need all of it.

2 lbs. ground beef 2 tablespoons olive oil One whole head of celery, stalks and leaves, chopped 3 cloves garlic, minced 1 medium onion, diced 3-4 cups baby potatoes, halved fingerlings, or diced yukon golds 4 cups beef or vegetable broth 1 large bunch parsley (at least 3 cups packed) 1 cup lime juice (I needed about 8-10 limes) 1 bunch spearmint, leaves only Form the beef into meatballs the size of quarters.

Add the oil to a large soup pot and set over medium-high heat. Add meatballs in batches, making sure not to crowd the pan. Cook meatballs for 2-3 minutes, until the bottom side is brown, then flip and cook an additional 2 minutes on the second side. Remove finished meatballs to a plate.

When all meatballs have been cooked and set aside, you should have a nice layer of olive oil mixed with beef drippings -- perfect for your mirepoix. Add celery, garlic, and onion to the pot, turn the heat to medium, and sweat the vegetables until they start to soften but have not browned.

Add the broth and potatoes to the pot along with all but a handful of the parsley and 4 cups of water. Turn the heat to high, and bring the soup to a boil. Then reduce the heat to low and simmer for 20 minutes, until potatoes are fully cooked. 10 minutes into cooking, add meatballs back into the soup.

When soup is finished cooking, turn off the heat, and add the line juice. Stir to incorporate. Add the remaining parsley and all of the spearmint and give a couple more stirs. Serve hot.

Favorite Corn Chowder

I can only assume that many of you hail from the Northeast, which is why I so hesitate to come down on one side of the chowder vs. chowder debate. There's New England, milky and rich, and then there's Manhattan, with a clear broth and plenty of tomatoes. Think Yankees vs. Red Sox: tensions run high.

But I'm not from New York, and I'm not from Boston, either. And ever since that Yankee kid snatched a ball straight from the hands of my Orioles and cost them the 1996 pennant, well, phooey. But I'm a peacemaker at heart. I don't like these silly rivalries. And so, to celebrate the end of summer and the abundance (12 ears!) of corn in my fridge, I'm sharing my favorite chowder recipe, which -- spoiler alert -- combines the two varieties into one. I know, scandalous.

Here's the deal: cobs become stock. Scallions, butter, and flour cook down into a ridiculous-smelling roux. Yes, we add some milk. But we also add -- bu-dump-ching! -- some sauced tomatoes. (If I'm being honest, I'd probably add some more next time around. I want the soup to be seriously pink.) Also, because I'm me, some hot chiles. That's the broth.

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As for the stuff, we've got corn, potatoes, carrots. Maybe some celery, if you'd like. And while I know some of you will balk at what I say next, there's a secret ingredient in this corn chowder that gives it a deep, rich undercurrent of umami. Skip if it wigs you out, but I wouldn't. It's smoked anchovies. My friends Beth and Jeremy are the ones who taught me about the wonder of smoked anchovies: the first time I had them was when I ate chowder at their home last year. I just stocked up on a batch of my own, and I'm never looking back.

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The result is rich, but not cloying. It's got punch from the tomatoes and chiles, but it still tastes distinctly of corn. And since you're asking, I'm telling: I'll be serving this over the holidays. It's the perfect dish to send summer off and welcome fall.

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Favorite Corn Chowder

Notes: I used the liquid left over from juicing tomatoes before canning them. I liked that there weren't any chunks of tomato, just the flavor. If you'd prefer some chunks, go for it. Either way, I think I'd up the quantity of tomato liquid next time, to make the soup truly pink.

As for the chile, I used fresh red chile, but next time I might play with some Asian chile paste, which would give the soup a red-orange tint and (hopefully) allow some of that oil to float to the top, the way it does in Asian soups. If you try it this way, definitely post in the comments.

6 ears of corn, cobs and kernels separated 4 tablespoons butter 1/2 cup chopped scallions 4 tablespoons flour 2 cups milk 3 smoked anchovies, chopped 1 cup crushed tomatoes or tomato liquid (I might use up to 2 cups next time, for a really pink soup) 1 Thai red chile or red jalapeno, seeds removed, minced (start with part and add to taste) 3 medium red potatoes, peeled and diced (about 2 cups) 3 carrots, coined (about 1 1/2 cups) 1 stalk celery, chopped, optional chives or parsley for garnish

Prepare the stock: Put the corn cobs in a large pot with add 3 cups of water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for about 30 minutes, until the water smells deeply of corn. Remove the cobs, pour the broth into a big heatsafe bowl, and set aside. Leave the pot on the heat.

Make the broth: Add the butter to the pot, stir until it melts, and add the chopped scallions. Let the scallions cook for a minute or two, until the butter smells fragrant and they have softened slightly. Add the flour, stir until the lumps disappear, and stir frequently until the mixture turns golden and smells toasty.

Add the milk a little at a time, incorporating the roux into the milk until the mixture is entirely smooth. Then add the anchovies, tomatoes, and corn broth, stirring to combine.

Finish the soup: Add the corn kernels, chile, potatoes, carrots, and celery if using. Give the soup a stir. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat back to medium-low, and cook for 15-20 minutes, until everything is cooked and the soup looks creamy.

Taste the soup, and add salt, pepper, and chile to taste. I found my soup to be plenty salty after the anchovies and just a pinch of salt, which is why I don't recommend salting the soup until the end.

Serve in big bowls with chopped chives and plenty of crusty bread or oyster crackers.

Curried Carrot Soup

It's cold outside. I hear it's snowing somewhere.

Inside, it's warm. We made soup.

It's a riff on the rather ubiquitous curried squash soup, but I had a huge bag of carrots to use up, so in they went. Keeping with the whatever's-in-the-fridge theme, this is a water-based soup; we didn't have broth, and I've been busy enough that I was in no mood to make some.

I've made it three times. The first time, I used a bit of miso and some thai curry paste (from a jar, available at most grocery stores). Next, I switched it up and went Indian, with curry powder and cumin seeds. Both were great, both quite easy. I slightly preferred the Indian version, which I tweaked a bit for round three. That's the take I'm sharing today. It's a pure soup, one you likely can make with things you already have lying around. Onion, carrots, spices, water. Some coconut milk to bring things together. That's all, folks.

I've been trying out some self-portraiture recently, and I took one round of shots as I polished off the last of this soup. Here are a couple that came out alright:

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As you can see, I liked the soup a lot.

Stay warm and cuddly. I'll be back soon with an awesome (hot! alcoholic!) beverage.

Curried Carrot Soup

There is one ingredient in this soup that I didn't mention above: apple cider. I used it in round 3, and I liked the subtle sweetness it lent the soup. If you don't have apple cider on hand, though, feel free to substitute apple juice, or even just a fourth cup of water, and a tablespoon of honey if you still want that sweetness. Simplicity is the best thing about this soup. No need to go fishing around for ingredients; just use what you have on hand.

To wit: I served the soup with a swirl of watered-down yogurt and a bit of apple cider syrup, since I had some lying around from a drink-making experiment (yes, I know I'm not normal). You could serve this with a swirl of coconut milk, a drizzle of honey, or even just a simple sprig of parsley or cilantro. Again, flaunt what you've got.

2 tablespoons ghee, grapeseed oil, or other flavorless oil (vegetable or canola is fine) 1 large yellow onion, diced 1.5 teaspoons kosher salt 1.5 teaspoons curry powder 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper 1 lb. carrots, peeled and sliced into 1-inch coins (no need to be precise here - you're blending the soup) 3 cups water 1 cup apple cider or apple juice (can also substitute water) 1 can light coconut milk

Heat the oil in a large soup pot over medium heat. No need to wait for the oil to heat up; add onions and 1/2 a teaspoon of salt, stir to combine, and cook until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add curry powder, cinnamon, and cayenne; stir to combine. Add the carrots and the remaining teaspoon of salt, stir to combine, and cook for 1 or 2 minutes more. Add the apple cider (or 1 cup of water) and scrape the bottom of the pan to release any fond that has formed. Add the remaining water, stir everything together, cover, and cook until carrots are completely soft, 15-20 minutes.

Shake coconut milk very well, then add to the soup. Using an immersion or regular blender, puree the soup (in batches, if necessary) until completely smooth. Serve immediately, or transfer to a heat-safe container (I like to store it in mason jars) and reheat before serving. Soup keeps for at least a week, if it sticks around that long.

A Pair of Gorgeous Yogurt Soups

A couple weekends ago, the near-constant downpour we've had in DC subsided.  The break was only temporary, but as the proud owner of a new herb garden, I'm telling myself it's good for the plants. With things breezy and clear for a couple days in a row, we decided to have some of our most favorite people over for Saturday lunch on the deck. I'd planned a low-maintenance menu of dishes I could prep in advance, then pull together relatively quickly when we got home from synagogue on Saturday. Macaroni salad with ramp pesto and pre-blanched asparagus. Chilled baked salmon (which I'll be telling you about soon, because it was delicious). And, of course, cold soup.

I'm quite fond of cold soup as a concept. You make it, pour it into a jar, and then you wait. Wait until you need a weekday lunch; wait till friends come over and you want to serve them a little something; wait until, I dunno, you're hungry. You pretty much can't go wrong with a cup of cold, smooth soup on a warm day.

If we're talking about soups with dairy in them, and if we're being particular, I prefer yogurt- and buttermilk-based soups to those finished with cream. I love how sweet pea soup become tangy and bright when you blend in some yogurt just before serving. And I love the bewitching flavor of this white gazpacho, which gets its tang from buttermilk. That weekend, I put yogurt to work in a serious way, whipping up two cold soups to serve at lunch. One was a pureed beet-yogurt soup, with dill, mint, and a pinch of cumin. The other was a curried yellow squash soup, also blended smooth.

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I'd planned to give folks a choice of either soup, but when I set them next to each other on the counter, the color contrast was so striking that I decided to serve them side by side in the same bowl. As you can see, the gemlike fuchsia  beet looked just gorgeous next to the bright mustardy yellow squash soup. Conveniently, their flavors also complement each other. The beet soup is a bit sweet and very herbal, while the squash soup is deeper and slightly saltier. They're a perfect pair.

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Make one, make both. Store them in jars in the fridge until hunger strikes. I've found that they keep at least a week with no problem, maybe more. If you're feeling fancy, top the bowls with a cut of fresh chives or even a dollop of - yep - yogurt.

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Hope everyone has a wonderful long weekend. I'll see you back here next week.

Cold Herbed Beet-Yogurt SoupAdapted from Saveur Serves 2-4

1 lb. beets 1 1/4 cup plain yogurt 2 tablespoons fresh dill 2 tablespoons fresh mint 1 teaspoon ground cumin (freshly ground is best) 1/4 cup. lemon juice 1/2 tsp. salt, more to taste

Cook beets unpeeled, wrapped in foil, for 50-75 minutes in a 350-degree oven until a knife pierces easily through the flesh. Cool completely, then remove their skins. I find it's easiest to do this either under running water or - more environmentally friendly - submerged in a large bowl of cold water. A bit of rubbing, and their skins should slip off. Some may take more elbow grease than others; if the skin really insists on staying put, you can always use a peeler.

Cut beets into chunks, and transfer to a blender. Add remaining ingredients, and puree until completely smooth. Transfer to a jar and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Cold Curried Summer Squash SoupAdapted from Saveur Serves 2-4

2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 white onion, diced 1 teaspoon curry powder 1 teaspoon ground cumin (fresh is best) 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon turmeric 1/4 teaspoon cayenne 2 medium yellow summer squash, cut into 1-inch cubes (no need to peel them) 1/2 cup plain yogurt (either Greek or regular) 2 tablespoons Thai basil leaves

Put the butter in a large pot and set over medium heat. When butter has melted, add onion, curry, cumin, salt, tumeric, and cayenne, and cook until onions have just begun to soften and spices are fragrant, about 5 minutes. Stir in squash and cook an additional 5 minutes, until squash has softened. Add 1 cup water, reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and let simmer until squash is fully soft, about 10 minutes. Let cool completely.

Add squash mixture, yogurt, and basil leaves to a blender and puree until completely smooth. Transfer to a jar and refrigerate until ready to serve.

If planning to serve both soups together, simply hold 1 jar in each hand, and pour into the bowl simultaneously. The soups should fill the bowl at the same time, forming neat semicircles in the bowl with a clean equator. If not, no stress. You might even take a knife and make circular motions in the bowl to give the soups a spiraled, swirled effect.