Oh, hey, you're still here?

Apparently.


I'm bad at this. I've been bad at blogging ever since I stopped being an angsty teen who sorted her life out through her livejournal. Regardless, I want to try to make more of an effort to update this thing. I'm still making work, I'm still cooking, still baking, still creating, and I need to document it all somehow. I'm an absent minded archivist, which, just so you understand - means I'm a forgetful person who needs to archive her life in order to remember it. So, I'll try again. Maybe harder this time.

Recently I was generously gifted a cuisinart. I feel as though I've wanted my own cuisinart my whole life - and now I have one. No more, "oh I wish I could puree this", "oh, this sauce would be so amazing if I could really get it smooth", no more trying to force lumpy messes through tight-knit strainers in hopes of achieving velvet. No, now, I can dice, chop, slice, puree, and mix all I want - and without spending hours doing so.

Since receiving this piece of kitchen consumer magic, I have been stocking my fridge with sunchokes - that big grocery store full of 'whole' foods down the street has had them in constant supply as of late - and I've been using them to make a really wonderful soup that is just as delicious hot as it is cold (or at least I think so, which could very likely be heavily disputed because I think most people don't appreciate thick smooth cold things that aren't, like, milkshakes).

I don't have a real recipe written up, but I'm going to do my best to share with you what I've been doing so that maybe you can make some yourself. You could do this with a blender too (and honestly, I guess you could get serious and do it with a mouli, but that'd be tough and messy) - but it definitely needs to be processed.

Ingredients (only makes about 2 or 3 good sized servings):

- About a pound of sunchokes
- Three to five potatoes of your liking - I've been using yukon golds but I have also done it with a mix of red bliss and yukon. I would use something with a bit more flavor and creamy consistency than plain old idaho's.
- About 4C broth (I haven't had any homemade broth recently, and instead have used store bought - chicken/veggie broth leaves the soup with a less altered taste and color; mushroom broth gives the soup a deeper flavor and color, and is really quite good. A mix of two of the three would also be fantastic - clearly, use veggie/mushroom to make soup vegan)
- 1 medium sized shallot
- 5 or so good sized garlic cloves (because I love garlic)
- spices (i like to use bay leaf, fresh thyme, pepper and kosher salt, curry, paprika)
- butter (i use soy butter, but you use what you want)

For topping:

arugula
garlic
bacon/proscuitto

Preparation:
Peel the sunchokes and potatoes. Submerge the sunchokes in cold water until ready to use.
Dice garlic and shallot.
Cube the sunchokes and potatoes into manageable cubes.


Sweat garlic and shallot in butter over med-low heat, in large deep walled sauce pan, until fragrant. Don't allow the garlic and shallot to color. Add the cubed sunchokes and potatoes, increase heat slightly. Add about a tbsp of fresh thyme. Add salt and pepper to taste, (if desired) one whole bay leaf, as well as paprika and curry to taste - probably about a 1/2tsp of paprika and curry, although you can do more or less as you please. Stir well and pour broth over it all - the broth should just about cover all the business in the pan. Still well again, making sure to scrape the bottom of the pan well - there shouldn't be anything stuck to the bottom but you want to make sure all the yum is incorporated well into the broth. Cover and bring to boil. Lower heat and summer until sunchokes and potatoes are soft - sunchokes may get soft before potatoes but as far I can tell it doesn't make too much difference for this recipe if they 'over cook'.

Once everything is soft (not mushy though - soft like for mashed potatoes), and ladle into processor (be sure to remove bay leaf). Process in small quantities as to not overwhelm machine. Pour into bowl. Once everything is pureed, strain soup through fine strainer - a chinois is ideal (wish i had one!). Soup is ready and delicious - eat immediately or store in the fridge for a few days.

The soup is delicious on it's own but I like topping it with well diced pan fried bacon (if I was rich I'd use prosciutto) and lightly sauteed arugula with garlic. Don't over sautee arugula, and if you are using bacon sautee the arugula and garlic in some of the leftover bacon grease for an extra delicious treat. In the picture below I also added some grated monterey jack cheese (cabot, lactose free).

This recipe can be made to be vegan by using soy butter, veggie/mushroom broth, and obviously not topping it with bacon/sauteing the arugula in bacon fat.



When I make this soup, things are good. It satisfies my craving for dense, creamy soups that almost always have cream or milk in them - while being entirely dairy free yet fantastically thick and smooth. Beyond that, it keeps me grounded and steady in moving on, in mending this broken heart.

For me, cooking is a time to stop and think about nothing and everything at the same time - while my mind may wander occasionally (and often some of my most incredible thoughts come while in the kitchen), for the most part my mind is set on the task at hand and I am liberated and relieved through the meticulous processes of preparation, cooking, and cleaning. Since that heavy magic was lost, though, I have found that my kitchen brain has changed in someways - as our love was so heavily tied to our time in the kitchen, I am reminded constantly of everything I had, and subsequently lost, when I cook. But at the same time, certain things I now incorporate into my kitchen time - the way I now dice shallots, understanding the chemistry behind my dough, having the confidence to make that which i once bought - are constant reminders of the gift that came despite the loss along with it.

I learned about sunchokes and turning them into soup in his kitchen, and making this dish is especially emotional for me - while the sadness and nostalgia are there, entirely present, so is the gratitude for all that you taught me. Thank you for that.