More Recipes for When You You Lose Your Bodily Autonomy: Soups!
From A New Series: A Cookbook for the End of the World
Roasted Butternut Squash Soup
Fall is here, and as the weather gets colder there’s no better way to stay cozy than a hot bowl of a hearty seasonal soup! With just a few simple ingredients, this deceptively simple autumnal classic will be sure to keep you warm on a chilly night.
INGREDIENTS
One large butternut squash, peeled and cubed
One large shallot, diced
Three cloves of garlic, minced
Five cups of good chicken stock
Olive oil for drizzling
A few pads of butter
Coarse sea salt, fresh ground pepper, crushed red pepper flakes
1 tsp thyme
A pinch each of sage and nutmeg
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.
Slice your squash lengthwise and remove the seeds and pulp with a spoon.
Drizzle the open squash halves with olive oil and season it generously with salt, pepper, dried thyme, red pepper flakes to taste, and a bit of nutmeg. Throw a few pads of butter on top and put it in the middle rack of the oven on a foil-lined baking sheet. Bake for 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, add a good amount of butter to a not-too-hot heavy pot on the stove, add your shallots and stir until they’re soft. Add the herbs and stir until fragrant.
Add the garlic. Set it all aside once the garlic is aromatic but not browned.
Have a glass of chef’s wine and wait for the squash to be fork tender! Maybe a few hehe!
After 45 minutes, take the squash out of the oven. At this point it smells great.
You waited almost an hour for the main ingredient to be cooked and now you’re supposed to do more shit to it?
And there’s supposed to be a blender involved, too? No. Ha no.
Let me get this straight: You’re going to need to clean a cutting board, baking sheet (the tin foil always leaks), a giant fucking pot, a spoon, knives, a whole fucking countertop covered in herbs and shallot peels, and now an actual blender with its BLADES and various plastic crevasses? No.
No no no nono nononnono no stop. Stop. Enough. Get out a fork.
Stand over the squash and eat the squash right on the baking sheet. It’s great. Why purée it? Who needs “soup?” Not you. You're not a toothless baby. You’re an adult. An adult with a fork and at LEAST half bottle of wine left.
Eat the whole hot squash.
When someone comes into the kitchen and says “Mmm - you makin’ soup, babe?” just reply “No.” while standing over your squash carcass. They will nod and leave.
Drink a lil more wine then eat the lukewarm shallots and garlic on a piece of stale Dave’s Killer Bread.
Put the pot in the sink and fill it with water and a dash of dish soap. Fill it with the cutting board and knives and measuring spoon and spatula. Look at you, you cute little Ina Garten bitch. You did it. You made soup.
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Potato Leek Soup
This luscious root vegetable puree is a simple way to turn pantry staples into a hearty meal. And as an added bonus: Leftovers can be enjoyed cold as a rustic vichyssoise!
INGREDIENTS
4 medium russet potatoes, peeled
2 large leeks, halved and thoroughly washed
4 cloves garlic, chopped
6 cups vegetable stock
4 tbs butter
Salt and pepper to taste
Rosemary, thyme, a bay leaf and red pepper flakes
Slice leeks lengthwise and rinse under running water to remove all grit. Pat dry and slice into quarter-inch half moons.
Wash and peel potatoes and chop into 1-inch cubes.
Heat a generous swirl of olive oil and a few pads of butter in your heaviest pot or dutch oven, add leeks and push around gently until they soften, adding a heaping pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper.
Add garlic and stir until fragrant but not browned, add spices and stir in.
Deglaze with vegetable stock and bring up to a boil.
Add the potatoes.
A dash more salt.
Stir with a large spoon, scraping the bottom of the pot.
Watch the bubbles form and pop.
Stir the bubbling liquid.
Bubble, bubble. Watch the steam rise.
Cackle.
Let down your hair. Watch it twist wildly as it swells in the steam. Cackle as you stir your dreadful brew.
Awaken ancient spirits from the demonic swirl of your cauldron.
When your child looks up from his iPad and asks you what you’re doing say this riddle: “From the depths of this accurs-ed pot, a raven’s eye a wicked spot, mustn’t halt the stirring spoon, as blackest night engulfs the moon.”
When he asks if you’re a witch, snap out of it. Turn off the burner. Put a lid on the dutch oven. Put your hair back in a bun. Wipe your eyes on a clean dish cloth. Look at him and say, “Yes.”
Dammit. Now I want to make soup. Specifically those two soups, which just happen to be my two go-to soups. Tbf, I often want to make soup, but as you pointed out, there is a lot of faffing about and so much mess. Still, I see my hand is making a wee shopping list and butternut squash has mysteriously showed up on it. Curse you! You are a witch! You made me do this!