Curried Carrot Apple Soup

In the weeks leading up to Adi's birth, I started baking and cooking food intended entirely for the freezer. If I'm being honest (and inviting you all to take some jabs at my sensibilities), some of what I stowed away was a bit...frouffy: butternut sage scones and carrot bran muffins, for the absurd but oh-so-likely future occasion that I need to throw a brunch together at the last minute; embarrassingly large quantities of cookies (NYT chocolate chip and chocolate gingerbread and snickerdoodles, I know you're curious) because nursing is really hard, and after a long day of rather painfully feeding my babe, I need to feed myself and you know what? These days, that involves a cookie.

Not that cookies aren't a practical choice, but I can assure you that in plotting what would occupy my precious freezer real estate, I did consider courses other than dessert. I've frozen small bags of chicken stock to have on hand for easy rice or vegetable dishes, and I even froze some of Lisa Fain's fantastic seven-chile chili. which I make precisely once a year. But most of what I froze in the non-brunch, non-dessert department consisted of soup. And since we've now had the chance to defrost a couple of containers for no-thinking-required dinner, I can tell you that this curried carrot-apple number has proven a clear favorite.

The recipe comes from Food and Wine,  which I once made time to read. (These days, I barely get through a Saveur before the next one arrives.) I love this soup: its pungency and spice are tempered by plenty of sweetness from carrots, apples, and a brilliant secret ingredient: gingersnaps. While the recipe calls for chicken stock, I used water and was quite happy with the results. I also shortened the ingredient list, because vegetable soup mustn't call for one of every single winter vegetable. Skipped fennel, added more leek. Skipped fussy garnish in favor of a simple spoonful of yogurt. Wasn't sad.

The soup went into the freezer perfectly smooth. It separated a bit while defrosting, but that resolved itself once I heated up a bowlful.

These days, the mornings fly by, and then I realize that suddenly it's 1:30 and I haven't thought about lunch. This soup's been a lifesaver. The fact that it's delicious? Well, that's icing on the cake.

One year ago: Gingerbread Oat Waffles and Maple Cardamom Marshmallows
Two years ago: Cocoa Rye Raisin Bread and White Hot Chocolate with Warm Spices
Three years ago: Leek Latkes and the best, easiest tomato soup ever
Four years ago: Kohlrabi and Apple Slaw and Pasta with Eggplant Sauce
Five years ago: Hazelnut Shortbread and Brown Butter Cauliflower
Six years ago: Apricot-Stuffed French Toast and Great Homemade Granola
Seven years ago: Chocolate Pretzel Cookies and oh, look! another Carrot Soup

Curried Carrot-Apple Soup
Adapted from Food and Wine

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium onion, chopped
2-4 medium leeks, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise
Salt and pepper
2 pounds carrots, coined
1 1/4 pounds celery root, peeled and chopped
1 Granny Smith apple, peeled, cored and chopped
7 small, crunchy gingersnap cookies (about 1 cup), plus extra crumbled for garnish, optional
1 tablespoon curry powder
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1 teaspoon finely grated peeled fresh ginger
leaves from 2 thyme sprigs or 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
2 quarts stock or water
1 cup sour cream or yogurt, plus more for serving
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
fresh nutmeg, for serving, optional

Melt the butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion, leek, and generous pinches of salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and just starting to brown, about 10 minutes. Add the carrots, celery root, apple, gingersnaps, curry powder, garlic, ginger and thyme and cook, stirring, until the carrots and celery root soften slightly, about 10 minutes. Add the stock or water and bring to a boil, then simmer over moderate heat until the vegetables are very tender, 25 minutes.

Working in batches, puree the soup in a blender (regular blender is best, but immersion blender will also work) with the sour cream/yogurt and vinegar until smooth. Taste, and season with salt and pepper as needed. Serve with a dollop of yogurt and an optional (but very lovely) dusting of freshly grated nutmeg or some crumbled gingersnaps.

Tuscan Kale and Chickpea Soup

I have a (very cynical) theory that for every 10 vegetarian soup recipes out there, 9 of them had authors who sneaked in some chicken stock when no one was looking. I often read these recipes incredulously: you're telling me your meatless soup is deep and complex, and yet it contains no miso, no tomato paste, no porcini mushrooms, no smoked anchovies - no umami whatsoever. Heck, it doesn't even have much in the way of spices. This all seems mostly impossible.

But as I'm not coming to find, there are magical exceptions to this rule. There are owners of a certain restaurant in Brooklyn by the name of Franny's, which I have love-love-loved for a very long time, who make pretty much everything turn to gold. They are experts at pasta and pizza; masters of crostini and of fritti, those fried bites that start a meal. Well, no surprise: it turns out, they're pros at soup, too.

Making a vegetarian soup taste complex and flavorful absolutely requires attention to detail and process; this soup has steps. But, as usual, I did find a couple of shortcuts that'll make this soup use fewer pots and take less time. That said, as written, this probably isn't an ideal choice for a make-and-eat weeknight supper situation. I made a double recipe last weekend, and it lasted us much of the week. Fortunately, this is a soup that improves over time. I also suspect that it'd freeze beautifully, and I'm making a third batch this, the whole of which I'll be freezing for some very theoretical time down the road when time is more of the essence.

Speaking of said time: lots of you have emailed and commented to check in on preggo and bebe. Thank you so, so much. It's the home stretch around here. The babe is in position and ready to go. We've managed to not find out the sex (though this morning's appointment nearly spoiled that - be careful!), and I'm really glad we kept it under wraps; I think it's changed the nature of our anticipation. I thought this stage would be full of wondering and theorizing about what the kid will be like; instead, since that's a total mystery, I've been thinking a lot more about how we'll be as parents. I'm happy not to know more yet; I'm happy to be patient. (I'm also happy to be enjoying a not-at-all small number of peaceful restaurant meals with the lady and with friends; if only I could log them for later.)

The other good news about this phase, at least for my meat-loving wife, is that I've been clearing out the freezer of space-hoggers like spare ribs. In honor of our anniversary, I stovetop-smoked them for about an hour, then let them melt away in a low oven . The whole process was way easier than it sounds. Tutorials here and here, recipe inspiration here, if you're interested. We served them with some very good BBQ baked beans, which I'll tell you about one of these days.

Thinking more about those ribs, I'm happy to have the dregs of my last batch of this soup in the fridge. It'll make a healthy, filling supper.

Good to counteract those apple cider doughnuts I made this weekend, which I'll tell you about later this week. Till then -

Franny's Kale Chickpea SoupAdapted from Franny's: Simple Seasonal Italian Serves 8

On my shortcuts: I skipped the cheesecloth sachet, of course. Instead, I diced the onion small enough that it disintegrated into the soup; I cut the carrot and celery just in half, for easy removal; and the rosemary sprig was easy enough to find and remove. You're also supposed to put 3 garlic cloves in the sachet, but since garlic is such a prominent flavor in the soup anyway, I didn't see the harm in leaving them in there. I'm pretty sure 2 of the 3 found their way into the blender with the portion that got pureed, and I ended up with one of them in my bowl, all smooth and melty, which was delightful. I also sauteed the rest of the garlic in a pan big enough to accommodate the kale, saving one pan in the process. I'm sure you're wondering whether you can make this with canned chickpeas, and while I'm sure you can, I'm also sure the cooking time helps marry the flavors and textures of this soup. Still, I know time is of the essence. If you try it with canned chickpeas, will you report back?

One more note: this soup is pretty perfect as is, but I did just want to note that it works well with greens other than kale. I haven't tried it with collards and probably wouldn't start there, since they can taste a bit chalky after a long liquidy cook. That said, beet greens, in particular, are fantastic in this soup. So if you have a small bunch of kale and a big pile of greens from those beets, don't hesitate to make this.

And one tiny other thing: 1 cup of olive oil. A lot, yes, but not the 1 1/2 cups originally called for, and also not really that much, at 2 tablespoons per serving. Disagree? Think about the fact that most cookie recipes call for 2 sticks butter. That's a cup right there. I've already cut the amount of olive oil by 1/3 - don't skimp further. If anything, be more generous if you feel so inclined.

2 cups dried chickpeas
1 carrot, peeled and cut in half
1 celery stalk, cleaned and cut in half
1 onion, halved (or diced, if you don't want to fish it out with the carrot and celery; see note above)
11 garlic cloves, peeled
5 strips lemon peel
1 sprig rosemary
1 tablespoon kosher salt, more to taste
3 1/2 quarts water
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided; more for drizzling
1/4 teaspoon chili flakes
2 big bunches Tuscan kale or beet greens Freshly cracked black pepper Lemon wedges, for serving
Grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, for serving

Put the chickpeas in a medium bowl, cover with at least an inch of water, and let soak overnight.

In a large pot, combine carrot, celery, onion, 3 garlic cloves, lemon peel, rosemary, 1/2 cup olive oil, 1 tablespoon salt, and the 3 quarts water. Bring to a boil over high heat,  then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the chickpeas are tender, about 1 hour (more if chickpeas are old). Taste at the end of cooking, and add more salt as needed.

Meanwhile, finely chop or (faster!) crush the remaining 8 garlic cloves. Remove the center ribs from the kale and coarsely chop the leaves (you should have about 16 cups, but if not, no stress). Set up your blender and have the blender canister at the ready.

In a large skillet, heat 1/4 cup olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and chili flakes and cook until the garlic is fragrant but not golden, about 1 minute. Transfer to the blender canister (it's okay if some is left in the pan). Immediately add 1/3 of the kale, toss to combine, and cook, tossing occasionally, until tender, about 3 minutes. Transfer cooked kale straight into the blender. Add 2 tablespoons of olive oil and another 1/3 of the kale, and cook in a similar manner, transferring to the blender when cooked. Repeat with the last 2 tablespoons olive oil and the last batch of kale.

When the chickpeas are cooked, fish out the carrot, celery, rosemary, and onion if not diced. Then scoop 2 cups of them and their liquid into the blender with the kale, and puree until smooth. Add this puree back to the pot with the rest of the chickpeas, and cook over medium-high heat until hot.

Serve with grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, a drizzle of olive oil, and lemon wedges on the side.

My Favorite Gazpacho

I was poking around on Food52 the other day and came across a recipe for Mama's Summer Gazpacho, from one of my favorite early participants in the site. The headnote above the recipe was equal parts loving ode and adamant defense: "Purists may question this recipe's lack of bread, or the use of tomato juice, but I firmly believe..." and so on.

She was right to defend herself. Gazpacho is a deeply personal thing, and when people say they have their favorite recipe, what they probably mean is that they almost definitely like their own gazpacho better than yours. Some people are loyal to entirely smooth versions containing not much more than tomato. Others swear by those sweet-ish gazpachos containing watermelon. And while I've never heard someone hold white gazpacho above red as their favorite, those people must be out there, somewhere. Pretty much every time I serve or eat gazpacho, I look around the table and see that people have strong opinions about what's in the bowl. They grew up on a certain kind of gazpacho, and convincing them that yours is equally lovable may be out of reach.

There are exceptions to this rule. We recently swooned over gazpacho made by our friend Josh, which was based on (gasp!) canned tomatoes, and stood up well to the best fresh versions I've had. It wasn't my recipe, but you better believe I asked him to share it. It's a great one for the files, especially when you're craving cold soup and fresh tomatoes aren't quite ready for a spotlight. I'll share it on here one of these days.

But today, I'm here to share my favorite gazpacho with you. What you need to know:

• It uses fresh tomatoes.
• It contains two distinct textures: a smooth soup, and a diced salad toss-in.
• the smooth soup does not include bell peppers, because I'm pretty sure pureed green bell peppers ruin things.
• It contains two kinds of chile: fresh jalapeno, and chipotle in adobo.
• It does not contain tomato juice (though I, too, have a soft spot for recipes that call for it).
• It is wonderful.

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The most important thing about my gazpacho is #2 above, the two distinct textures. I prefer my gazpacho not entirely smooth, and I especially love the sensation of a smooth soup punctuated by perfect little chunks of all the vegetables. Dicing does take time, but I tend to zone out as I do it, and once I get into the rhythm, the process can be meditative. The other benefit of having two separate textures is that I really don't like green bell peppers in blended gazpacho, because I find that they make the soup turn much more quickly, sending off a gassy flavor after a day or so in the fridge. I don't mind green bell peppers as part of the chopped salad, though, since somehow this helps keep their potency at bay.

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So here it is: my favorite gazpacho. Maybe not your favorite, but perhaps you'll find some things to love about it nonetheless.

My Favorite GazpachoServes 8

6 Persian or 2 English cucumbers (if using English, halve the cucumbers lengthwise and seed them) 3 red bell peppers 1/2 a small green bell pepper 6 very good beefsteak (regular) or 8 plum tomatoes 1 large red onion 1 jalapeno pepper, cored and seeded (cut into big slices) 1/2 a canned chipotle in adobo sauce 3 large garlic cloves 2 1/2 tablespoons white wine vinegar (red, sherry, or champagne vinegar will also work) 1/4 cup good olive oil 1 tablespoon kosher salt (more to taste)

Set your cutting board on a work space, and put one medium bowl and one large bowl next to the cutting board. The medium bowl is where you'll collect your diced vegetables for the toss-in; the large bowl will hold all the big chunks that you'll eventually puree.

Cut the following vegetables into as small and even a dice as possible:

• 2 Persian cucumbers (or 1/2 an English)
• 1 red bell pepper
• Half green bell pepper
• 2 tomatoes (or 3 plum tomatoes)
• 1/4 of the red onion
• half the jalapeno

Toss them into the medium bowl as you go. My approach is to dice the parts that seem easiest, and toss the edges and other odd pieces into the large bowl for blending. When you're finished, you'll have a very pretty diced salad.

Add the remaining ingredients to a blender in two batches, trying to add about half of each ingredient in each batch so you can taste and adjust seasoning as you go. I often add an extra teaspoon or so of white wine vinegar after tasting a batch. Either way, once you've blended everything, combine in the large bowl or a pitcher, stir to combine the two batches, and taste again for any needed adjustments.

I really love this soup not-quite-cold, so you can serve it immediately after making it without chilling it first. If you do make it a day in advance, be sure to taste it after it spends a night in the fridge; the flavors often settle, and it may need a pinch more salt or another sprinkle of vinegar.

To serve, ladle the smooth soup into bowls and top with a big spoonful of the diced salad. Serve extra salad on the side for guests to mix in as they eat.

Yotam Ottolenghi's Watercress Soup

Sometime last year, D and I were invited to take part in a fun tradition that friends of ours had started, wherein they host dinner parties composed entirely of dishes from Yotam Ottolenghi, he of Plenty and Jerusalem and an earlier eponymous book that gets much less attention. (Also of a fantastic column in The Guardian, where this soup originally appeared.)

At the first of these dinners we attended, the table was full of exotic dishes: fava bean kuku loaded with barberries, grape leaf and yogurt pie, and mutabbaq. Everything went together, because everything came from the same brilliant mind. We left stuffed.

For the second dinner, we all went back to the well, digging for recipes that had languished on our to-do lists for too long. Josh made a saffron ravioli served with pink peppercorns. Bryce made the spinach-feta fritters that were a total pain but really delicious. And I finally flipped back to the page of Jerusalem with three soups on it, two of which I'd already made. This time, I made the third: a very green soup made of watercress.

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What do you make of watercress soup? It sounded like a thin, brothy bowl, and I was worried that without a poultry broth, it would come out sort of bland.

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Fortunately, I was wrong. Watercress is so flavorful! To think I've been missing out on its spicy freshness all this time. The sweet spinach provides a nice counterbalance, but what really makes the soup is its garnish -- if you can call it that: a big pile of carrots and celery, roasted in plenty of spices until crispy and fragrant. Plus Greek yogurt, of course. 

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Let's get the special-ingredient pep-talk out of the way. You need some ras el hanout, a Moroccan spice blend with as many varieties as people in Morocco. That said, I've seen jarred versions at two area grocery stores, so hopefully you're in luck. The other thing you need is rose water. On one hand, it's crazy to buy a bottle of rose water when you only need a tablespoon. On the other hand, my bottle cost like $5, I've had it for years, and it never seems to go bad. So there you go. If you don't want to buy rose water, you can still make the  soup. But the rose water does lend fragrance and overall intrigue, so if you're even considering getting it, go for it.

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As good as this soup is the day it's made, it improves with time, as the flavors come together and smooth out a bit. There's no problem making the garnish in advance, either. Just give them a quick reheat in a 350-degree oven (10 minutes?) before serving and you'll be all set.

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Watercress Soup with Chickpeas and Ras El HanoutAdapted from Yotam Ottolenghi Serves 4

1 large carrot, peeled and cut into 3/4-inch dice 3 tablespoons olive oil 3 teaspoons ras el hanout 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon kosher salt 1 8-oz. can chickpeas 1 medium onion, thinly sliced 2-inch knob fresh ginger, peeled (use the tip of a spoon!) and grated or finely chopped 2 1/2 cups vegetable stock (or sub water) 8 oz. fresh watercress 4 oz. spinach leaves, washed 2 teaspoons caster sugar 1 teaspoon rose water 1 cup Greek yogurt, to serve

Heat the oven to 400°. Mix the carrot with a tablespoon of the oil, the ras el hanout, cinnamon and some salt, and spread flat in a roasting tin lined with baking parchment. Place in the oven, roast for 15 minutes, then add half the chickpeas, stir well and and cook for another 10 minutes, until the carrot is soft but still has some bite.

Meanwhile, in a large saucepan over medium heat, sauté the onion and ginger in the remaining oil for about 10 minutes, until soft and golden. Add the remaining chickpeas, stock, watercress, spinach, sugar and some salt, stir and bring to a boil. Cook for a minute or two, until the leaves wilt, then blitz in a food processor until smooth. Stir in the rose water, taste and add salt or more rose water as required.

To serve, divide the soup into four bowls and top with the hot carrot and chickpea mix, and about two teaspoons of yoghurt per portion.

Yotam Ottolenghi is chef/patron of Ottolenghi in London.