Vegetable

A dish that combines the style of Chinese soup noodles with the flavors of Indian curries. This version, made entirely with fresh ingredients, is probably superior to any you’ve had at a restaurant.

This is different from most garlic soups, not only for the addition of plenty of cilantro (parsley is more common, yet this is traditional, too) but also because the garlic-cilantro mixture is uncooked except by the heat of the broth poured over it, so it remains quite strong. If you have good beef or chicken stock, use it both to poach the eggs and as the base of the soup. And if you have an extra 5 minutes, don’t toast the bread in a toaster but brown it lightly in a skillet on both sides in olive oil—there’s nothing more delicious.

This popular one-pot dish can be made with meat or vegetables and, like most casseroles, is easily varied. There are, of course, similar dishes throughout East Asia (and throughout this chapter), but this one is made distinctively Japanese by the addition of mirin and even more so if you use dashi for the cooking stock—a terrific touch. Aburage—fried tofu—is available, precooked, at Japanese markets; it’s slightly sweet.

The only thing this has in common with the familiar European-style cucumber soups is the cucumber. Otherwise the ingredients—from the dashi to the soy sauce—are strictly Asian. This sublimely refreshing soup can be served hot or cold. When chilled, it’s especially good with a few pieces of shrimp added to each bowl.

If you want a little crunch, process the soup without the green beans, then stir them back into the puree before serving. This is best served at room temperature, since heat will dull the mint’s bright flavor

Hearty and warming, this is a popular winter dish in China, and rightly so. If you have a rice cooker, this is a good place to use it; it will allow you both to make the rice and to keep it warm. Even better is to wrap the rice in lotus leaves, as in the variation, which gives it a rich, smoky flavor and produces a dish often served at dim sum brunches. You can find lotus (or banana) leaves, as well as Chinese sausage and dried shrimp, at most Asian markets.

This creamy soup is wonderful on hot days; pair it with tortilla chips and you have a great lunch. Unlike most avocado soups, which are cream based, this one features the sweetness of tomatoes and the bite of chiles. You can make this into a dip by adding another avocado or two and reducing the amount of stock to just enough to allow the mixture to be pureed. A nice touch is to use a third avocado, diced, as a garnish.

Ignacio Blanco is a friend from Galicia, the northwestern corner of Spain. He taught me this delicious (and, yes, traditional, though it is cooked) gazpacho. Best made in August, when all these vegetables are at their peak.

Having eaten countless dishes called gazpacho—both in and out of Spain—I feel less an authority than anyone to define it. Some people would have you believe that all gazpachos contain soaked bread, and indeed many do. Some say it must have vinegar; but I’ve been served plenty of good cold soups called gazpacho that were barely acidic. Others call any cold, drinkable soup that meets the need for both food and drink gazpacho. (A chilled can of crushed tomatoes would meet this definition and, with parsley and garlic, wouldn’t be too bad on a hot day.) I do have a few rules of my own for gazpacho: First, try to avoid green bell pepper. Even if it looks nice, this under ripe fruit adds crunch at the price of bitterness; use red or yellow peppers instead. Second, the raw flavors of uncooked gazpacho really do seem to mellow when you allow them to meld for a few hours or even overnight; while not essential, this is a nice touch. And finally, sherry vinegar (or high-quality wine vinegar) is preferable to balsamic vinegar in gazpacho; not only is it more authentic, but its cleaner flavor provides better balance. See the next recipe for a more complex version of this classic. Or add some cumin or paprika to this one, use tomato or V-8 juice in place of the water, and add fresh herbs—especially basil—as you find them.

Borscht, like gazpacho, is difficult to define; there are more versions than you can count. But at least we know they all (or almost all, anyway) contain beets (it’s likely that the word borscht comes from the same root as the word for beet). And usually borscht is served cold. But it can be a vegetarian affair or a big meaty stew. The vegetarian version is usually served cold, while the beefy version is usually a hot winter dish. Here’s a fairly simple cold borscht with hot potatoes, a style I have made for thirty years (and first ate, at my grandmother’s table, before that). For a meaty borscht, see page 148.

Originally an Indian vegetable soup, this became popular among British colonialists, who added chicken to the mix. I like it better in something approaching its original form, but see the variations for more substantial versions.

If you think sauerkraut is only for hot dogs or choucroute garni (page 404), think again. Here’s a vegetable stew from Poland that demonstrates quite nicely that sauerkraut has roles beyond garnishing meat. Buy sauerkraut from packages or barrels, not cans, and make sure it contains just cabbage and salt. That’s all it takes.

When my grandmother was a girl, this was a staple winter dish, and it still is in Poland and much of the rest of Eastern Europe. You might think of porcini as Italian or French, but good dried mushrooms, including porcini, come out of Poland to this day.

Pistou is a garlic-basil paste almost identical to pesto—the names in fact are the same, just in different dialects. In France it’s used less to dress pasta than to thicken soups while heightening their flavor. Pistou is usually passed at the table so your guests can add as much as they like.

Few things are more uplifting in the dead of winter than a bowl of this bright orange soup, which is equally good served cold in the summer. Don’t overcook the carrots or you’ll lose the beautiful color. This soup can be made ahead of time and refrigerated, then reheated if necessary.

In the States, cream soup usually conjures up images of thick, starchy soup with canned vegetables. But real cream soup, as made in France, is relatively thin, super-smooth, and fragrant with fresh vegetables and herbs. For convenience, you might prepare the vegetable puree ahead of time and refrigerate it; you can then finish the soup right before serving. Note that Vichyssoise, cold leek and potato soup, the variation that follows, is a direct descendant.

There’s some sort of misunderstanding in many American “French” restaurants, which seem to believe that onion soup should look like pizza, overloaded with gooey cheese. The real thing—and this is it—is something else entirely; robust, flavorful, and elegant. This is as compelling a reason as there is to make your own beef stock.

Here sorrel brings both acidity and lightness to an often heavy mixture. You can substitute watercress or spinach for the sorrel to similar effect, especially if you add a squeeze of lemon at the end. Though it has only two primary ingredients, this soup is quite complex, particularly when you begin with good stock. The best lentils to use here are lentilles du Puy or other small dark green ones. Use the greenish brown variety only if you cannot find these.

I first ate this soupy stew (or stewy soup) at a lunch counter in Istanbul and was taken by its depth of flavor. It seemed that either the whole was greater than the sum of its parts or there were some hidden ingredients. It turned out to be the former, or nearly so; through an interpreter, I learned that the dish did not begin with stock but with water and that the only ingredient I was not seeing was a bit of garlic. The cook offered that one might add a bit of butter for richness but that he hadn’t done so with this batch. If you want to turn this into a more filling main course, use stock instead of water, add some cubed boneless chicken or lamb, season it with a little cumin or dill, and finish it with lemon. You’ll wind up with a bigger, more substantial Turkish-style stew, though not necessarily a better one.

The thyme really shines in this soup, which is unusual for its use of sautéed apples as a slightly crisp, sweet garnish. In the old days, during times of bounty, a piece of meat would be added with the cabbage; you can do that too, but the cooking process will get much longer. I find this light, first-course soup much more useful without it.