As New Hampshire gradually tilts away from the sun and August days trickle off the calendar one by one, my thoughts turn savory pots of homemade soup, simmering on the back burner. Soup gives me great joy. Putting together a pot of soup in the early afternoon frees me from dinner preparation for more intriguing pursuits. And there are endless variations to explore.
I suppose that most creators of soup have their own tried and true methods. I love to take a protein source, be it beef, pork, sausage or chicken, season it cautiously and brown it gently with onions and garlic, finally turning the heat on high to caramelize the veggies. It is here that I must resist the impulse to run downstairs and toss a load wash in the dryer. It can ruin everything. Then when the soup is just below the combustion point, I throw in a cup or two of water to stop the process and calm everything down. Oh, the aroma!
Depending on the type of meat, I let things go for awhile for the sake of tenderness. Then comes the fun part. How will I individualize this batch? What do I have in the fridge that needs to be used up before it becomes another science experiment? I remove the meat if it’s tender, to avoid overcooking, and add in veggies that seem to complement this particular concoction. Beef loves tomatoes and mushrooms. Chicken loves wild rice and peas. Pork makes friends with just about anything. Italian sausage adores fennel and turnip. On it goes. Once the veggies are about to fall apart, I reintroduce the meat and give it all a few minutes to mingle. Magic!
There’s just something about soup. There it sits atop my stove, beckoning family and friends to gather around the table on a stormy autumn night and partake with thankfulness. Who cares if the rain is pelting down and the wind is howling? Who cares if winter is on its way? We have soup!
