When Jim and I first started dating, he once told me he didn’t like soup—he just wasn’t a soup-guy. For a split second I thought to myself maybe I need to reconsider getting serious with this mope—in my head sprung images of winters to come, with icy snow tapping on the shivering windowpanes and me, wrapped in layers of scratchy woolen blankets, whimpering in front of a cold piece of fish and salad greens. For a split second I almost turned and ran, leaving forever on a search for an Eskimo boyfriend who would appreciate a good soup. And then I realized how silly I was being. Jim wasn’t not a soup-guy. He was simply wrong. Or a liar. And I would change his mind for sure.

Fortunately for me, it’s almost two years later and I have proven Jim wrong. He’s a soup guy now, man, even requesting soup for dinner quite often. Our winters are warm and cuddly, with fluffy down comforters and rosy candles illuminating the darkness outside.

This leek and cauliflower soup is one of many that has changed Jim’s perspective, as well as mine. It’s really sort of a miracle soup—it tastes so luxurious and creamy, but doesn’t leave you feeling bloated after a bowlful because there is actually no cream in it. Yup, that’s right, no cream. Just cauliflower, leek, onion, broccoli if you want it, and stock. It’s amazingly rich and smooth and the addition of caramelized slices of leek and cauliflower as a garnish adds a delicious brown-butter flavor. I add a few florets of broccoli (about half a crown) for color and a bit more green taste, though it’s definitely not necessary. We’ve also had it poured over a bowl of seared sea scallops, which elevates this simple soup to the heights it deserves.

Since the new year is rolling in, and the holidays have left me with a few new pounds to deal with, I’ll be making this soup a lot. It’s the perfect weight-loss tool, and though I don’t know the actual calorie count of each serving (though I do know it’s only 1 point in weight watchers), it’s got to be low. It’s really quite a little miracle.

Leek & Cauliflower Soup

serves 6

Ingredients:

• 2 medium leeks, sliced into rounds and washed
• 1 medium sweet onion
• olive oil
• 1 large head cauliflower, cored and cut into florets
• ½ crown broccoli florets, optional
• 4 cups chicken stock (or vegetable stock)
• salt and pepper

• 1 T butter

Method:

In a large saucepan, saute onion and leeks with a bit of olive oil, until they soften but do not brown. Add cauliflower, broccoli, and stock and cook, covered, until cauliflower is tender, about 15 minutes. Take out 6 rounds of leeks and a few florets of cauliflower, set aside.

Puree the soup in batches in the blender, placing pureed soup in a bowl. When finished pureeing, add soup back to saucepan and season to taste with salt and pepper. Keep warm over a low heat.

Slice your reserved cauliflower florets thinly, so you get cute little shapes that look like trees. Add butter to a small frying pan. When melted, add cauliflower slices and brown in the butter on both sides, taking care not to burn. Remove from pan to a small plate. Do the same with the leek rounds.

Ladle soup into bowls and garnish with the cauliflower trees and leek rounds.

Christmas is over, but Jim and I have a whole week of vacation left. A whole week of reading, cooking, eating, cuddling, and movie-watching. A whole week of anything we want. A whole week of nothing.

(more…)

I’ve been thinking about angels a lot lately. Jim and I recently finished watching the HBO series of Tony Kushner’s Angels in America, and it’s the type of film that stays with you for a while after it ends. The play, set in New York City during the 80′s, focuses around Prior Walter, a gay man with AIDS, and his partner Louis who, fearing the ickyness of the disease, leaves Prior. At the same time, the story also follows a Mormon couple from Salt Lake City who’ve moved to NYC. The wife is addicted to Valium and going crazy, and the husband (a Republican) is a closeted gay man. Oh, and this Republican is friends with Roy Cohn.

Not the typical setting for angels, you say? Well, it turns out that Prior is a prophet; a beautiful (and somewhat ditsy) angel visits him frequently. If you haven’t seen Angels in America, you must, because I just cannot do justice to Kushner’s philosophical ideas about New York City, America, God. (more…)

I’m not sure how my caterpillar has survived the cold winter. I mean, the tree didn’t even make it, falling down to become a mushroom-covered log. Maybe it was the super-large size that helped him through it all. Or maybe I’ve just gone nuts.

(more…)

Speculaas cookies (sometimes called Dutch Windmill cookies) evoke warm, farmiliar memories in my mind. I can picture my sisters and I, very young, sitting in the backseat on the way home from a drive to Pennsylvania Dutch County, with a box full of these wonderfully aromatic spiced cookies, our roadtrip bounty. I have no idea whether this is a real memory or one I somehow made up (0lfactory memories have a way of doing that to me!) All I know is that I loved these cookies, and the smell of them brings on a wave of good, warm, fuzzy childhood memories, even if they are rather blurry.

Speculaas cookies are traditionally made for St. Nicholas’ Eve in Belgium and the Netherlands. They are crunchy, thin gingersnap-like (but oh, so much better) shortbread cookies usually cut, using wooden stamps, into shapes that resemble windmills, animals, or relics of St. Nick. I don’t have such cool wooden stamps, and I imagine the cookies really aren’t the same without them, but I am feeling quite sentimental this holiday season. I’ve been jonesing for the aroma of the cookie’s spices, which include cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cardamom or anise, white pepper, and sometimes clove, but I needed to make myself muffins for work—I’m not working from home anymore, so I have to plan my meals!—so Speculaas Muffins it was!

I couldn’t have been more pleased with the memory-triggering results. Turns out, the most memorable thing about the cookies was the spiced aroma—though they are mighty cute as windmills! I was almost contented by simple smelling the muffins, inhaling deeply as I pressed the muffin to my lips; then I realized how great they tasted and I gobbled them right up.

The batter is a simple muffin batter, one I use for plain muffins or traditional blueberry ones, though I used walnut oil instead of canola for a deep, earthy flavor. I used AP flour, though I’m sure a whole wheat pastry flour would work well, complimenting the rich walnut oil and spices. Also, I used half-and-half as the liquid in these muffins simply because that’s what I had on hand. You can sub regular milk, cream, butter, yogurt, or whatever it is you’ve got.

Speculaas Muffins

makes 10-12 muffins

• 1 egg
• 2/3 cup half-and-half
• 6 T walnut oil
• 2 ½ cups flour
• 3 tsp baking powder
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 tsp ground cinnamon
• ½ tsp ground nutmeg
• ½ tsp ground anise
• ¼ tsp ground ginger
• ¹/8 tsp ground white pepper

Method

PAM or grease a regular sized muffin pan. Preheat the oven to 375º.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the egg with the sugar until it begins to get fluffy. Whisk in half-and-half, walnut oil, and spices.

Sift together flour and baking powder. Gradually fold flour into wet mix, taking care not to mix too much to avoid tough muffins—the mixture should be juuust combined when ready.

Spoon mixture into muffin cups and bake until golden brown on top—about 20-25 minutes. Remove from oven. Inhale. Take care not to burn your nose when you bend down to take a whiff.