One of the few things that bum me out about blogging is that I "know" all these cool people but I lack
companionship in my daily life. I'd like to spend one of these frosty evenings laughing and chatting,
hot bread steaming, hot tea at the table, wine for those of us who partake and so forth. Alas.
Instead, I'm going to invite you all to "dinner" at "my house" by posting a recipe which is easy,
delicious, and infinitely adaptable (if you're vegan, use oil and if you don't drink, don't put in the wine and
the results will still be just fine).
Limburg Potato Soup (courtesy of Peter Rose)
2 lbs potatoes, peeled and washed (or not peeled, for a more rustic flavor and look)
1 med. onion
4 Tbsp butter or oil
1/3 cu plus 1 Tbsp flour
6 cups veggie broth
1 cu dry white wine
1/4 tsp mace
Salt and pepper
4 Tbsp minced parsley (dry works too -- maybe a Tbsp of dry)
2 Tbsp minced celery leaves
Broth or milk to thin the soup
Cut up the potatoes thin, chop the onion, cut carrots into thin coins. Melt butter (or add oil) to soup kettle,
whisk in flour and brown it slightly. Gradually add broth. Whisk vigorously to make a smooth sauce.
Stir in wine (or not -- I'd put in another cu of broth for liquid volume in that case), add potatoes, carrots,
onion and mace. Bring to a boil, then simmer about 20-25 minutes. Puree in a blender (I don't have
an immersion blender, so I dump it in the Kitchenaid). Return to kettle. Season with salt, pepper, herbs
and simmer for about another 10 minutes.
Serves 4. Can be easily doubled or tripled to serve a hungry crowd of teenagers. This a traditional
Dutch dish from the southern provinces, says food author Peter Rose. I just know that the recipe
looked good, I tried it, and found it as good as it looked on the page.
I'm also serving a wonderful spinach salad, home-baked break, and pumpkin pie with a radically
revised pie crust recipe. (Those who shared my table at Thanksgiving know that my pie crust
needed work, but thank you for being good-humored about it.)
So. Break bread with me, friends, and share the hush of candlelight on a winter's evening.