Is there anything more versatile than tomato soup? From rustic Italian pappa al pomodoro to chilled Spanish gazpacho to supermarket-smooth Campbell’s, there are literally hundreds of different recipes out there. And I love them all (well, most of them).

My favourite tomato soup, though, has got to be a little closer to the Campbell’s variety (if I can say that without loosing my food-blogger cred). Not quite so smooth, no, and not quite so creamy either, but sweet and simple and puréed almost to oblivion. Served with a grilled cheese sandwich or just some bread and butter, it’s pretty much summer in a bowl.

This recipe is pretty close to that ideal, though I admit that it’s somewhat counterintuitive as a summer soup. It uses canned tomatoes instead of the fresh stuff that’s just starting to appear at the market. But since there was no market here last week (that pesky marathon again), I made do with what I had. Besides, a sprinkling of fresh basil and the tart creaminess of crème fraiche are enough to convince you that’s it’s summertime you’re tasting, not matter the actual time of year.

And that, my friends, is versatility.

• Creamy Tomato Soup
• adapted from Mark Bittman
• 1 Tbs. olive oil
  1 Tbs. butter
  1/2 large onion or 1 small one, finely chopped
  2 garlic cloves, minced
  1 tsp. dried oregano
  1 tsp. dried thyme
  1 tsp. dried basil
  2 Tbs. tomato paste
  1 carrot, peeled and finely chopped
  1 1/2 cups vegetable stock
  3 cups chopped tomatoes (canned or fresh)
  1/2 cup crème fraiche
  1 tsp. sugar (optional)
  sea salt and black pepper, to taste
  1/2 cup chopped fresh basil
• 1. Heat the olive oil and butter together in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over low heat. Add the onion, garlic, herbs, tomato paste and carrots and stir well. Cover and cook gently for 5-8 minutes, stirring occasionally.
  
  2. When the onions are translucent and the carrots tender, add the stock and the chopped tomatoes. Cover and continue to simmer for 20-30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
  
  3. Remove the soup from the heat and add the crème fraiche. Purée until smooth using an immersion blender, then taste. Add sugar, salt and/or pepper as needed. Finally, stir in the chopped basil and serve.

People are funny about garlic. It seems to be one of those love-it-or-lump-it ingredients, doesn’t it? Standing firmly on the “love” side you have me, my sister, Yotam Ottolenghi, and roughly 60 million Italians (or most of them, anyway). In the haters camp reside many close to me: my best friend, my boyfriend, and my mum. No matter how many cloves of garlic a recipe calls for, Mum will always use one. Sometimes half.

Now I’m not crazy, nor (I hope) am I a stinky, garlic-breathed hag. I get that what this little onion does to one’s breath isn’t exactly nice (I’m not sure I’d be in a romantic mood after eating that Ottolenghi tart, either). But the actual taste? Or the smell of it, hitting a pan of hot olive oil? To me, that’s the stuff of dreams, and I defy any breath-fixated foodie to claim otherwise. Which is why, when I opened my most recent issue of Jamie magazine and saw this recipe, I knew that I’d have to make it.

Sopa de Ajo is a typical Spanish garlic soup, but with the addition of stale sourdough bread, smoked paprika and a poached egg. It may not sound like breakfast fodder (and indeed, would be yummy at any time of the day), but I think it’s perfect for a winter morning. A warming, silky and fragrant broth, with an egg for protein- what more could you want? Besides, if you eat this first thing in the morning, you’ll have all day to wash the garlicky taste out of your mouth, and your loved ones will never be the wiser. Works for me.

• Sopa de Ajo
• adapted from Jamie magazine
• serves 1; easily multiplied
• 1 Tbs. olive oil
  2 garlic cloves, peeled and gently crushed with a knife
  1/4 tsp. paprika (smoked, if you have it)
  2 very thin slices stale sourdough bread (equal to one slice of normal thickness)
  1 1/2 cups hot water (about 350ml)
  sea salt and black pepper, to taste
  1 large egg
  chopped parsley, to serve (optional)
• 1. Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a nonstick skillet. Add the garlic cloves and gently fry for 3-4 minutes, until they get some colour and the oil begins to become fragrant. Remove the garlic to a small saucepan.
  
  2. Sprinkle the paprika into the remaining oil and add the slices of sourdough. After a few minutes, check the underside and turn the bread; the aim is to get them nice and golden on each side, but not burnt. When the bread is done, remove it to the saucepan with the garlic (tear it up to make it fit, if necessary) and pour over the hot water. Season well, cover and simmer soup for 5 minutes.
  
  3. Push the bread pieces toward the outer edges of the pan to make a “well” in which to poach the egg. Carefully break the egg into the space, cover pan and simmer for about 3 minutes, until the whites are set. Transfer soup to a bowl (discarding the garlic cloves), sprinkle with parsley and enjoy.

Some flavours just seem to go together, to the point where they’ve become almost married in our minds, and it seems odd to have one without the other. Beetroot and goat’s cheese, butternut squash and sage, basil and tomato, salt and pepper. Ok, that last example might be taking things a bit too far, but you get the picture- sometimes, ingredients just seem made for one another.

But what about those combinations that surprise us? Some pairings (cheddar and apple, chocolate and chili) seem odd at first, but work just as well, and quickly become as “matched” in our minds as any of those previously mentioned. I think celeriac and apple is one of these combinations- the mild earthiness of celeriac is a perfect counterpoint to the sweet-and-sour flavour that is apple.

It seems not everyone agrees; a few weeks ago, a Celeriac and Apple soup was the special at work, and didn’t attract as much love as I thought it deserved. More than one potential customer walked in, read the specials board, and walked out again. I thought it might have been the apple; perhaps people weren’t jazzed by the idea of the fruit in their lunchtime soup? A co-worker’s wager was that the celeriac was the culprit; it just isn’t a ”popular” vegetable.

Whatever the reason, I didn’t mind. When my lunch break rolled around, the soup’s lack of popularity simply meant that there was some left for me! You might be a sceptic too, but I’m betting you won’t be for long once you try this winning combination.

• Celeriac and Apple Soup
• serves 4
• 1 Tbs. olive oil
  1 large onion, chopped
  1 large celeriac (roughly 700g), peeled and chopped into 1″ cubes
  1 large potato (roughly 350g), peeled and chopped into 1″ cubes
  1.5 litres vegetable stock
  2 large dessert apples, cored, peeled and chopped into 1″ cubes
  salt and pepper, to taste
  up  to 3 Tbs. lemon juice (optional)
  cream, buttermilk or olive oil (to serve)
• 1. Heat the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan and add the onion. Cook for 5-8 minutes over medium heat, until soft and translucent.
  
  2. Add the celeriac and potato and stir until well coated; cook for another minute or two. Pour in the stock and bring to a boil, then turn down and simmer the mixture for 20-25 minutes, until both celeriac and potato are tender.
  
  3. Add the apple to the soup and cook for a further 5 minutes, until the apple has softened. Remove soup from heat and purée using an immersion blender. Taste, and add salt and pepper as needed. If your apples were very sweet, you may want to add some or all of the lemon juice, as well. Serve hot, drizzled with cream, buttermilk or olive oil.

I’m back from a wonderful, if slightly different, Christmas break by the English seaside. Quality time with Andrew’s family, long walks and delicious meals made up my holiday. Actually I’ve been home since Monday, only the vast amount of food I’ve recently consumed, the abundance of restaurants in my neighbourhood and The Matrix trilogy on TV have all been keeping me from posting here.

I was the lucky recipient of several food-related gifts, including four cookbooks, two silicone baking pans, a pair of oven mitts and a mysterious implement which most closely resembles a wire comb (Andrew found it useful for brushing his hair), but my sister informed me yesterday is actually a vintage Angel food cake separator. I’ve never made Angel food cake before, but clearly I’m going to have to start.

My most exciting foodie gift was two boxes of Moo cards, which Andrew ordered and wrapped up for my stocking. I’ve now got a selection of colourful business cards for Kitchenist, Kitchenisms and Kitchlit, and I plan to annoy and accost all I meet with them. I’m curious- what did everyone else get for the holidays?

But enough about gifts; this is a cooking blog, after all. Today I’m sharing a simple but delicious soup perfect for that most reviled of Christmas leftovers: the Brussels sprout. Of course you all know that I love these miniature green cabbages, but sadly, many do not. So if you’ve got some Christmas Day hangers-on sitting around in your fridge, this would be a great way to use them up.

The recipe hails from Rachel Allen’s Home Cooking, a Christmas gift of mine and a gem of a cookbook. I’ve already made four recipes in two days from this book, and this soup was possibly my favourite of the bunch. On the surface, it’s just your run-of-the-mill recipe for puréed vegetable soup. Take one onion, one potato and some green things, cook in stock until tender, purée and stir in cream.

But the trimmings here make this dish so much more than that. A dollop of chive cream and a sprinkling of toasted almonds work together to ensure that “leftovers” is the furthest thing from your mind when eating this. If you ignore the presence of the butter and cream, you’ll also feel like you’re doing something good for your body. That, coupled with the fact that it’s practically effortless to make, mean this soup is the perfect post-holiday meal, easing us back into regular life.

• Brussels Sprout Soup with Chive Cream and Almonds
• adapted from Home Cooking by Rachel Allen
• serves 4
• For the soup:
  1 Tbs. butter
  1 onion, finely chopped
  1 large potato, peeled and chopped into 1/2″ cubes
  sea salt and black pepper
  400g trimmed and halved Brussels sprouts, pre-cooked or raw
  1 litre vegetable stock
  50ml single cream
  
  To serve:
  50ml whipping cream
  2 Tbs. finely chopped chives (or scallions, green parts only)
  4 Tbs. flaked almonds
• 1. Melt the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and potato, season with salt and pepper and stir to coat. Turn the heat down to low and cover; cook for 10-12 minutes until the potato is soft. Stir occasionally and add a splash of water if the mixture is sticking.
  
  2. Add the sprouts and pour in the stock. Bring to a boil and cook for 3-5 minutes until sprouts are tender and hot through. (You will need less time for cooked sprouts, more for raw.) Remove soup from the heat and purée using an immersion blender, or blend in batches with the food processor. Stir in the cream and reheat the soup over a very low heat while you make the toppings.
  
  3. Put the whipping cream in a clean bowl and whisk to form soft peaks, and then stir in the chives or scallions. Toast the almonds lightly in a small dry pan until beginning to turn golden. Serve the soup in bowls with a dollop of cream on top and the chives scattered over.

It’s been quiet here at Kitchenist for the past week, and for that I apologize. It’s really December’s fault- instead of welcoming me with open arms, she decided to hit me where it hurts: right in my sinuses.

For the past couple days I’ve been battling with an achey head, sore throat and runny nose, and it hasn’t been fun. Focusing all the energy I can muster on my Holiday Gift Guide at Kitchenisms has left little time for cooking, or eating. Thankfully for both you and me, I managed to pull myself out of my ginger, honey and lemon-induced stupor to make a veggie-packed dinner the other day: pistou soup.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a big fan of soup when I’m feeling under the weather. So when I saw this recipe in my new Jamie Magazine Recipe Yearbook, and saw that it was full to bursting with veggies, beans and pasta, I felt a little better already. The kicker on this otherwise lovely-but-simple vegetable soup is a dollop of fresh pistou sauce, a French cousin to pesto. Here’s how my explanation to Andrew went:

“What are you making?”

“Pistou”

“Pesto?”

“Pistou!”

“Peasto?”

“PISS-too!”

“Gross”

“It’s like pesto, but without the nuts.”

Jamie claims that this soup feeds four, but I’m sure that’s a mistake. Possibly he meant that the recipe feeds four small families, or four pro wrestlers, but seriously- this overflowed my Dutch oven, and I had to remove half of it to another pot. As such, I’ve played around with the quantities slightly, but still expect this to make a meal.

• Pistou Soup
• adapted from the Jamie Magazine Recipe Yearbook
• serves 4-6
• Soup
  3 Tbs. olive oil
  2 cloves garlic, minced
  1 yellow onion, finely chopped
  2 leeks, sliced (white and light green parts only)
  2 bay leaves
  2 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2″ cubes
  2 carrots, chopped
  2 celery sticks, chopped
  1 x 400g can borlotti beans
  1 x 400g can chopped tomatoes
  85g ditalini, farfallini or other very small pasta shape
  50 g chopped kale (stems discarded)
  sea salt and black pepper
  
  Pistou
  50g basil, stems discarded
  1 large garlic clove, minced
  handful grated parmesan cheese
  2-3 Tbs. olive oil
• 1. Heat the olive oil over medium-low heat in a very large, heavy-bottomed pot. Add the garlic, onions and leeks, cover and cook for about 10 minutes, until very soft and translucent.
  
  2. Add all other ingredients, except for the pasta, kale and salt/pepper. Pour in enough water or vegetable stock to cover, and simmer until the vegetables are tender, about 20-25 minutes. You will need to keep adding water/stock occasionally.
  
  3. When the veg are tender, add the pasta and kale and cook for a further 10-12 minutes, until they’re also cooked through. Season with salt and pepper and remove the soup from the heat; let it cool slightly while you make the pistou.
  
  4. For the pistou, simply throw everything but the olive oil into a food processor and blitz until smooth. Add the olive oil in a steady drizzle until the sauce reaches a consistency you like. (You can also make the pistou with a mortar and pestle.)
  
  5. Serve the soup with a dollop of pistou on top, and a bit more parmesan cheese on the side, if you like.

Some would argue, on reading the title of this post, that these two things are not, in fact, the Perfect Pair. Some might say that too much of a Good Thing is actually Bad, and would possibly even bring up the old adage that Opposites Attract.

Which is true, for some people and on some occasions. But not for me, and certainly not where cheese is concerned. Today’s soup and muffins are strikingly similar (or as similar as soup and muffins can be); both contain a mixture of cheddar and parmesan, making the whole meal a delicious, cheesy feast.

I haven’t made a soup in a while, so I was eager to try something new when I bought a gorgeous romanescu cauliflower on Sunday. Andrew was working from home yesterday, so I thought a home-cooked lunch was in order. Heidi had recently posted a simple and delicious-looking recipe for Broccoli Cheddar Soup, so I figured it was as good as any place to start.

I was also itching to do some baking, and opted to make muffins to go with the soup (though I was thisclose to making these Cheddar Cornmeal Scones that my sister posted about- talk about genetic taste). While the muffins didn’t exactly act as a counterpoint/foil/what have you to the soup, I think they went perfectly. Soft and flavourful, they were perfect for dunking into the pale green liquid.

What can I say? Sometimes you just know what you’re in the mood for.

• Romanescu-Cheese Soup
• adapted from Broccoli Cheddar Soup from 101 Cookbooks
• serves 4
• 2 Tbs. olive oil
  1 medium yellow onion
  2 cloves garlic
  1 medium potato, peeled and cut into 1″ cubes
  1 litre vegetable stock
  1 frozen parmesan rind (optional)
  1 medium head romanescu, rinsed and cut into florets
  1/2 cup grated cheddar
  1/4 cup grated parmesan
  1/4 cup crème fraîche
  sea salt and black pepper, to taste
• 1. Heat the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan with a lid. When it’s hot, add the onion and cook over low heat for about 5 minutes, until the onion is soft and translucent.
  
  2. Add the garlic and potato and continue cooking for another 2 minutes. Pour over the stock, cover and cook until the potato begins to become tender, 15-20 minutes. (If you have a parmesan rind, add it at this point.)
  
  3. Add the romanescu florets and continue cooking until they are tender to the point of a knife, 5-8 minutes.
  
  4. Remove the soup from the heat and remove the parmesan rind, if using. Using an immersion blender, purée the soup to a smooth consistency- you might want to add more water, if you think it seems too thick.
  
  5. Return the soup to a low heat and stir in the cheddar, parmesan and crème fraîche until the cheese has melted and the soup heated through. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve.

• Cornmeal-Cheese Muffins
• adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison
• makes 6 (easily doubled)
• 1/2 cup plain flour
  1/4 cup + 2 Tbs. finely-ground cornmeal (or polenta)
  1 1/4 tsp. baking powder
  large pinch salt
  1 egg
  1/2 cup milk
  1 Tbs. honey
  1 Tbs. vegetable oil
  3/4 cup grated cheddar cheese
  1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
• 1. Preheat oven to 200°C/400°F. Prepare a 6-cup muffin pan by greasing the cups or lining with papers (if not silicone).
  
  2. Mix together all the dry ingredients in a medium-sized bowl and set aside. Whisk together the wet ingredients in a large jug, and pour over the dry ones. Mix until everything is just combined, and then stir in the cheese.
  
  3. Divide the mixture between the muffin cups, then bake for approximately 25 minutes, until muffins are browned on top and springy. Let muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.

I spent the better part of yesterday afternoon hemming a dress. You’d think that such a simple task wouldn’t take anywhere near that long, particularly when performed by someone who used to spend as much time sewing as I did. During university, I once sewed for approximately 48 hours straight without so much as a ten-minute nap, and I’m pretty sure I got more done than dress hems. (Possibly not, though; the lack of sleep means my memories of this time in my life are fuzzy at best.)

This dress, however, was one of those difficult jobs with a back vent, a lining, three separate fused sections and that horrible silk fabric that shows every single wayward stitch or press mark. Honestly, it made me realize why I left the fashion industry in the first place: my impatient nature probably makes me more suited to food, anyway.

Plus, I wasn’t just hemming a dress; I was making soup. Turns out sewing and cooking are surprisingly good partners. You sew a seam, add some seasoning. Fuse some panels, chop some greens. Do a little hand stitching while the broth simmers- you get the idea.

The soup and the dress are actually linked, and not just in the sense of yesterday’s activities. See, I’m wearing the dress to a friend’s wedding in two weeks. Myself being short of stature, it falls a bit long on me: hence the hemming. The dress being quite slim-fitting, I need too make sure it actually fits me on the day: hence the soup.

I’m definitely not one to “diet” in a traditional sense. The very idea of depravation sends me into uncontrollable cravings of said item. But I figured I will have to stand, sit, eat and dance in this thing for several hours (and long into the night, if we’re lucky), so it wouldn’t hurt to sub a few pastas with soups, right?

Luckily, Autumn is perfect soup season. It’s not quite cold enough to want the rib-sticking curries and roasted veg of winter, but chilly enough to crave something to keep your hands and belly warm. Enter the soup: steaming, filling and undeniably healthy. This one uses some of my favourite cold-weather flavours of beans, kale and fresh rosemary. All in all, a perfect fit for Fall.

• Cannellini Bean and Kale Soup
• serves 4-6
• 1 cup dried cannellini beans
  3 Tbs. olive oil
  1 large onion, finely chopped
  2 medium carrots, chopped
  2 sticks celery, chopped
  4 garlic cloves, minced
  1 tsp. fresh rosemary, minced
  1 cup passatta, or chopped canned tomatoes
  2 litres vegetable stock
  1 parmesan rind (optional)
  several large handfuls kale, stems discarded and leaves chopped roughly
  salt and pepper to taste
  parmesan, feta or other cheese, to serve
• 1. Put the beans in a large saucepan and cover with 2 inches of cold water. Bring to the boil and cook rapidly for 2 minutes; remove from heat, cover and let sit for 2 hours.
  
  2. Heat the olive oil over medium-low heat in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Add the onion, carrots and celery, cover the pan, and cook over very low heat, stirring occasionally. After 10 minutes, add the garlic and rosemary, and continue cooking for another 5. The vegetables should soften but not colour.
  
  3. Drain the soaking beans and add them, with the passatta or chopped tomatoes, to the vegetables. Cover with the stock and leave to simmer for 1 hour. (If you have any parmesan rinds in your freezer, now is the time to throw one in.)
  
  4. Taste one of the beans; it should be just starting to become tender. If so, add the chopped kale, pushing it down beneath the surface of the soup. Simmer everything together for another 30 minutes until the beans and kale are both tender. Salt and pepper to taste, and serve with some crumbled or grated cheese on top.
  

In my family, we don’t really do lunch on the weekends. Maybe I should rephrase that: we eat, but we don’t do large, elaborate lunches. While some families might sit down to pastas, gratins, breads and salads at midday, mine tends to favour nothing more taxing than a grilled sandwich, and more likely a mug of soup.

My mum makes wonderful soups, and always freezes and stores her creations. At any given time, there are probably two or three delicious and healthy homemade soups in my parents’ deep-freeze. When I’m home for a visit, I know that a good modest (okay, frugal) lunch is just steps and minutes away.

When he first started spending holidays with my family, it took my boyfriend some time to adjust to this habit of ours. Andrew’s not really a soup fan, preferring heartier, more filling meals in general. Slowly though, he’s come around to soup, at least as a form of midday nourishment (I have yet to convince him of its dinnertime charms).

Lately, I’ve been trying to introduce these weekend soup-eating practices to our London home, making Sunday “Soup Day”. Often it’s carrot or lentil, sometimes tomato, but yesterday, after returning from the farmers market with some new season bounty, I thought I’d try my hand at the old peasant classic: Leek and Potato.

(OT, but this is one soup I definitely wouldn’t be served at home; my mum loathes potatoes. I’ve never really understood this dislike, because potatoes are just about the most inoffensive vegetable I can think of. To each her own, though.)

My version of this soup, with smoked paprika and sour cream, has just enough kick to keep it interesting without overpowering the subtle flavour of the leeks. Served with whole wheat toast and a dollop of sour cream on top, it was good enough for Andrew to proclaim it “amazing”. Of course, this was during daylight hours; if you’re planning this for dinner, proceed with caution.

• Leek and Potato Soup
• serves 4
• 2 Tbs. butter
  1 clove garlic, minced
  3 medium leeks, chopped, white and light green parts only
  1 tsp. sea salt
  black pepper
  3 medium potatoes (or 2 very large), peeled and cut into 1″ chunks
  1/2 tsp. paprika (if you can get the smoked kind, it’s good here)
  1 litre vegetable stock
  1/2 cup sour cream
  1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper (optional)
• 1. Heat the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. When it foams, add the garlic and chopped leeks, sprinkle over the salt and grind in some fresh black pepper. Cook gently until the leeks have softened but not browned, about 4 minutes.
  
  2. Stir in the chopped potatoes and the paprika, and cook for another two minutes. Pour over the stock and simmer for 20-25 minutes, until the potatoes are tender.
  
  3. Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Using an immersion blender, purée until smooth.
  
  4. Stir in the sour cream and if using, the cayenne. Re-heat gently if necessary.

I’ve been fighting a summer cold for the last few days. I always find fair-weather illness extremely annoying- not only do you feel sick, but you feel guilty for feeling sick. We’re made to feel that colds should only occur when it’s, you know, cold, so we convince ourselves that we should feel fine- after all, the sun is shining outside and the temperature is balmy. But, try as we might, we just can’t ignore the sniffling, sneezing and unmistakable presence of phlegm. (Sorry, I do realize that the word “phlegm” has no place on a food blog. It won’t happen again.)

Luckily, there are things that can make us feel better, the most important one being food. Sure, people are always saying that “drinking lots of fluids” and “getting enough vitamin C” are the surest ways back to health, but I prefer my medicine in a comforting, home-cooked package. Common knowledge tells us that chicken noodle soup is the cold cure-all, and though I don’t eat chicken, I’m not about to argue with Common Knowledge. 

So, what’s the vegetarian equivalent of chicken noodle soup? I think the jury might still be out on that one, but this soup did me just fine when I made it a few days ago. Adapted from my book du jour, Jamie’s Italy, it’s part pasta dish, part thick stew, and completely delicious. 

Made from chickpeas, pasta and not much else, its simplicity will appeal to your inner child in need of nourishment. But using good stock and topped with fresh parsley and parmesan, it’s flavourful enough to appeal to the more healthy among us, as well. What can I say?  I’m may not be cured, but at least I’m well-fed.

• Chickpea and Pasta Soup
• adapted from Jamie’s Italy by Jamie Oliver
• 2 Tbs. olive oil
  1 small onion, chopped finely
  1 stick of celery, chopped finely
  2 cloves garlic, minced
  1 tsp. dried thyme
  2 x 400g cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed
  500ml vegetable stock or water
  100g macaroni, ditalini or other small pasta shape (about 1 cup)
  salt and pepper to taste
  1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
  2 Tbs. chopped parsley
• 1. Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over low heat. Add the onion, celery, garlic and thyme, and cook, with the lid on, for about 15 minutes. The onion should be very soft and translucent, but should not colour. 

  2. Add the chickpeas and stock, re-cover, and cook for 30 minutes. Remove from heat. 

  3. Using a slotted spoon, remove about half the chickpeas to a bowl. Puree the remaining chickpeas and broth, using an immersion blender (or a food precessor). Return the whole chickpeas to the pot, along with the pasta and a good pinch of salt.

  4. Return pot to the heat and cook gently, covered, until the pasta is tender. This will take slightly longer than the package indicates, as the soup is so thick. If the soup seems too thick to cook the pasta, add some boiling water from the kettle. 

  5. When the pasta is cooked, remove soup from the heat and season to taste, adding a good amount of black pepper. Stir in most of the parmesan and parsley and allow to cool for five minutes. Serve with the remaining parmesan and parsley as a garnish. 

It’s that time of year when I become completely uninspired in the cooking department. No matter how excited I am to first see the summer produce at the market, by mid-June I just don’t know what to do with it anymore. 

I think this might have to do with the fact that I’m Canadian, and summer food is (relatively) foreign to me. I mean, sure we have it, but the season is so comparatively short that my knowledge of warm-weather cooking is limited at best. When I was a kid summer meant barbecues in the backyard, but since I now a) don’t have a backyard and b) no longer eat meat, that’s hardly an option. I’m geographically wired to crave winter foods, and my stamina for summer is sorely lacking. Once I’ve made a few fresh salads and a pasta primavera or two, I’m lost. My winter standbys of curries, roasted veg and soups don’t seem so appealing when the sun is still shining at dinnertime.  

When I’m lacking inspiration like this, I tend to fall back on an old trick: using up things in the fridge. Strangely, nothing makes me feel so creative as boundaries. This was true back in fashion school, when designing for a painfully constrictive brief, and it’s true now on a Saturday evening, hungry but at loss for what to cook. 

Which brings me to the scene in my kitchen earlier this afternoon: me, opening my fridge in confusion and despair, searching for something that might bring back my will to cook. The carrots I bought last Sunday were begging to be used, going slightly soft in the vegetable crisper. At this point they were only suitable for soup, which for me has always had a slightly autumnal feeling. But then I spied some leftover coconut milk in the door of the fridge, and had an idea. Surely a Thai-style carrot soup was summery? 

A glance in my favourite go-to cookbook gave me the framework for a recipe, and slowly, I began to feel somewhat excited at the prospect of food again. I rustled up some garlic, ginger and chilis from around the kitchen, dashed out to the shops for some lemongrass, and began to improvise dinner. 

This soup ended up being delicious as well as economical- rich and creamy, but fresh-tasting at the same time. Most importantly, it cured my mental block, at least for one evening.

• Thai-style Carrot and Coconut Soup
• adapted from How to Cook Everything Vegetarian by Mark Bittman
• serves 2
• 1 Tbs. neutral oil
  1/2 onion, finely chopped
  2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed lightly
  1 small red chili, de-seeded and finely chopped
  2 small stalks lemongrass, trimmed, bruised and cut into 2″ pieces
  200g carrots, washed and cut into 1″ chunks. 
  small bunch coriander, leaves and stems separated, leaves chopped
  1 cup coconut milk
  2 cups water
  salt, pepper, sugar to taste 
• 1. Heat the oil over medium heat in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Add the onions and cook until lightly golden, about 5 minutes. 
  
  2. Add the garlic, chili and lemongrass, and cook for two minutes more. Add the carrots and coriander stalks, and cook for a further minutes. 
  
  3. Add the coconut milk and water and turn the heat down to low. Cover and simmer gently for 15-20 minutes, until carrots are tender when pierced. 
  
  4. Remove from heat and let cool slightly. Carefully fish out the coriander stalks and lemongrass. Puree, either with an immersion blender, or a food processor.
  
  5. Stir in the chopped coriander leaves. Taste, adding salt, pepper, and/or a pinch of sugar as necessary. Re-heat if needed and serve.