England

Potato leek soup and fresh-cut bread.

This somewhat unappetizing grey mound was actually a very tasty soup whose warming and filling effects were appreciable for hours.

Roast squash and sausage soup, topped with a dollop of yoghurt.

We blended the roast squash and sausage, but in the end, I think that just meant we lost soup to the blender. The soup was sweeter than expected, but the rustic sausage flavor and the tartness of the yoghurt helped to balance it well.

Dals and Soups

Dal… is the com­mon name in the north­ern part of the Sub­con­ti­nent for a dish that is made of split beans, peas, or lentils. Dal may be like a thin soup, or it can be a very thick puree. Of­ten its tex­ture is be­tween the two, so that it’s a lit­tle like split pea soup. In most parts of the Sub­con­ti­nent, the main meal in­cludes dal, bread or rice, and a veg­etable, so dal is one of the es­sen­tial culi­nary cat­e­gories. It’s a very flex­i­ble and cre­ative one, too.

Dal dishes are very easy to cook, nu­tri­tious, and in­cred­i­bly ver­sa­tile and in­ex­pen­sive, like the eas­i­est of soups. For trav­el­ers in the Sub­con­ti­nent, dal, like bread in Eu­rope, can feel like a great friend, al­ways avail­able, sus­tain­ing.

Man­goes and Curry Leaves, Ar­ti­san 2005

Curry is the na­tional British food, far sur­pass­ing pizza, ke­babs, or burg­ers as a take out food. It is even more pop­u­lar than fish and chips. That hav­ing been said, we haven’t had any In­dian food out yet, we’ve been mak­ing our own. While we don’t know if our In­dian dishes are au­then­ti­cally fla­vored, we have re­al­ized why their warm, spicy, and fill­ing recipes are wel­come in the cold months of late au­tumn in Britain.

On a stu­dent bud­get of an ever shrink­ing size, the eas­i­est and most in­ex­pen­sive meals we make are In­dian dals, which we eat about once a week. Our dals are toor dals, that is, they are made with yel­low split peas. While we usu­ally spice our dals with turmeric, curry, mus­tard pow­der, salt and pep­per, we have on oc­ca­sion added bay leaves or cumin. The fla­vor and the tex­ture of the dal de­pends a great deal on how long it cooks both prior to the ad­di­tion of wa­ter and af­ter the ad­di­tion of wa­ter. The peas will toast slightly in a small amount of grease ei­ther with gar­lic and onion or by them­selves be­fore be­ing im­mersed in wa­ter which causes them to swell and slowly break down. The longer a dal is cooked the darker and thicker it will get. Some­times milk or yo­gurt is added to­ward the end of the cook­ing process which lends the dal a creamier tex­ture and a bit of tang. We usu­ally eat our dals over rice which has cooled to room tem­per­a­ture en­joy­ing the con­trast of the very hot dal to the cool rice.

An­other dish we eat weekly is soup. Soup is com­fort­ing af­ter the cold British rain which will driz­zle all day or tor­rent briefly and then threaten men­ac­ingly all day with­out re­sult. It is also con­ve­nient to leave sim­mer­ing while we work up­stairs, pop­ping down­stairs to give it a stir every fif­teen min­utes or so. Our fa­vorite soups are potato and cau­li­flower. The cau­li­flower soup we make has such a creamy taste and is noth­ing like the flo­rets you would dip into ranch. We were first in­spired to make cau­li­flower soup back in Sep­tem­ber when read­ing the Becks and Posh blog on the de­ci­sion be­tween olive oil and but­ter in cau­li­flower soup. (We use but­ter.) Becks and Posh is mod­ern cock­ney rhyming slang for ‘nosh’, as the blog so named is writ­ten by a Brit liv­ing in the SF Bay area. She gives a recipe in the ar­ti­cle, which we fol­low… roughly. Ba­si­cally we put oil, onion (when we re­mem­ber), and cau­li­flower in the pan and cook for a lit­tle while, then we cover it with wa­ter and leave it cook­ing for twenty min­utes. The we add more wa­ter and cook for an­other twenty min­utes. If we were be­ing fussy we would im­mer­sion blend it, but gen­er­ally by that point we find that we are too hun­gry to bother. Be­sides, lit­tle bits of cau­li­flower which re­tain their tex­ture are kind of nice, a rus­tic ad­di­tion to the recipe, like mashed pota­toes which are still slightly lumpy.

Our potato soups some­times fea­ture a bit of shred­ded braised cab­bage or some “cook­ing ba­con” which ap­pears to be the “oops we cut that rasher wrong” shreds which are stuffed un­cer­e­mo­ni­ously into plas­tic for a half pound less than the reg­u­lar rasher. British ba­con rash­ers are not the same as Amer­i­can ba­con slices, they call those “streaky strips”. The dif­fer­ence is one of size and fat con­tent, British rash­ers tend to be wider and to have fat along one edge, as op­posed to the mar­bled ap­pear­ance of Amer­i­can ba­con, they are also what would be la­belled as “thick‐cut” Amer­i­can ba­con. Nonethe­less, the adage re­mains true, al­most every­thing is bet­ter with ba­con.

A new soup we tried re­cently was a sum­mer squash and pol­ish sausage soup, which called for the named in­gre­di­ents, heavy cream, and a hand­ful of spices. We didn’t have any of those (ex­act) in­gre­di­ents, but we did have a squash that was name­less and kind of old, some sale sausage that had been liv­ing in the same con­tainer as the ba­con for sev­eral weeks, and some rather wa­tery plain yo­ghurt. So I fried the sausage, roasted the squash, and boiled them to­gether with salt and pep­per. Af­ter a trip through the blender and a quick re­heat, I dol­loped the yo­ghurt on top and ended up with a strik­ing and tasty dish.

9 November 2008

Jon Kara Shields