Tag: ASHLEY RODRIGUEZ

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Late Summer Soup

For weeks now people around me have been hinting at fall. “It’s coming!” they’ll say. Or, “Did you feel the chill in the air? It’s almost here.” And I would just simply look at them and shake my head, not yet. I wasn’t ready and fretted a bit not knowing if this would be the one year that I regret the coming of the next season. But I should know this by now; it happens in an instant and I think today is that instant.

We’ve just returned from three days of camping in the woods. A sort of last hurrah complete with a camp fire that never quit, a breezy hike to the beach, bacon cooked until crisp over the fire, stories told with sticky marshmallow covered fingers, and dirt, well, everywhere. As we were packing up our tents, the gray clouds started to sprinkle and the ice cream cone that I craved just the day before turned into a spiced cider craving. Suddenly, thoughts of apples hanging low in the trees made me giddy and raspberries seemed so last season. I’m craving butter baked into pies tucked around tart, crisp apples and sturdier vegetables roasted until sweet then whirred into a light, yet creamy soup that gently warms during the soft coolness of the evenings.

I have that sort of soup today (recipe below). It’s hearty and yet somehow light, which in my mind is the perfect setup for a transitional soup. You know, the sort that can still be enjoyed on a sunny day but satisfies when the days are getting shorter and you need more heft than the salads of summer can offer. This soup uses an assortment of vegetables with cauliflower making up the bulk, but really it could easily be adapted to what you have lying around. The idea is a tray filled with roasted vegetable blends with onions, stock and cooked potatoes, so that it’s creamy but not heavy cream creamy – that wouldn’t be right for a transitional soup.

There’s also the leek, which is a member of the allium family, but the flavor is lighter and somehow more refined. We could boast of all the vitamins found in leeks here too but we don’t want them getting a big head.

Their paper-thin layers tend to collect dirt so I like to cut the leeks in half then run them through cool water. From there I thinly slice them and use them as you would onions. But even raw in a salad they do just fine, as their flavor is less abrasive than their cousin’s. They are just the right match for this sort of late-summer soup.

I should have remembered that my moment would come eventually. The one where I’m suddenly ready for cool weather and cozy evenings at home, or maybe I’m just too tired and don’t want to think of unloading the car from our camping trip. Either way, tonight seems like the perfect one for this soup.

by Ashley Rodriguez                                                                           

Chef, food blogger, and full-time mom.

You can read more of her writings at www.notwithoutsalt.com

Creamy Roasted Vegetable Soup

Ingredients

1 medium head cauliflower,

1 large leek, white part cut in 1/2-inch slices

4 celery stalks, cut in 2-inch pieces

5 tablespoons olive oil, divided

1 onion, diced

3 garlic cloves, sliced

1 potato, diced

1 tsp thyme leaves

Pinch chili flake

4 cups chicken or vegetable stock

1 13.5 ounce can coconut milk (or whole milk)

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

Pepper

Directions

  • Preheat your oven to 400° F.
  • Toss cauliflower, leeks, and celery with 3 tablespoons olive oil 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt and a few grinds of black pepper. Roast on a baking sheet for an hour or until vegetables are tender and there is a good deep color on many bits of the vegetables.
  • In a large pot add the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium high heat. When the oil shimmers add the onions and cook until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the roasted vegetables, potatoes, thyme, chile flakes, stock, coconut milk, and 1 teaspoon of kosher salt. Bring to a boil then reduce to the heat to medium low. Simmer for 10 minutes or until the potatoes are tender.
  • Carefully puree the soup in a blender. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Recipe adapted from the book Small Plates and Sweet Treats


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The Exquisite Cherry

Grandpa would hoist me deep into the branches. Suddenly I was surrounded by a forest of fruit-heavy limbs with hundreds of plump cherries at my disposal. My arms blurred in hurried motion as I picked as fast as I could before Grandpa’s arms grew tired. I looked as if I had come from battle, descending the tree with every inch of me stained with flecks of blood red juice.  
 
Many years later, my husband and I bought our first home. It met much of our criteria, but it was t  he two cherry trees in the front yard that had me signing on the dotted line. Disappointment hit initially as the summer brought forth berries of a light pink hue. They weren’t the cherries that I remember eating with grandpa. I mourned the idea of eating the cherries straight off the tree only briefly, as I quickly learned that sour cherries create the most lovely preserves and pie. We’ve since sold that home and each year I think of those trees hoping that the current owner realizes the treasure they  now have.
 
Chef and author Nigel Slater says, “A bag of cherries is a bag of happiness.” I could not agree more. There is nothing wrong with simply plucking the dense berries from their stem and placing them directly into your mouth. No recipe could be easier or more rewarding. But there are hundreds of creative ways you can incorporate cherries into meals, sweet or savory. 
 
At the end of a summer meal, a large bowl of cherries over ice, served with another large bowl of whipped cream, creates the perfect dessert. Guests are encouraged to dunk the berries deep into the subtly sweet cream, then straight into their mouths. A light dusting of cinnamon onto the cream transcends the dessert even further, as cinnamon and cherries create an endearing union. If chocolate excites you more than cream, simply replace one for the other. Cherries dipped in chocolate –what could be better? You could do this ahead and serve as a lovely after-dinner treat. Simply melt a bowl filled of chocolate, dip cherries in leaving a bit of their brightly colored flesh showing, refrigerate, then bring out to a table filled with happy people upon seeing the arrival of fresh fruit and chocolate.
 
Atop a bed of peppery arugula, cherries soften the greens with their sweetness and add a brilliant pop of color. Shavings of Parmigiano-Regiano are highly recommended. Or start the meal with a platter of cherries atop fresh goat cheese. Serve with crackers or bread. 
 
If the cherries are a bit lacking in flavor it is a tragedy, but not all hope is lost. A bit of time in the oven brings out their natural sweetness and changes the flavor to something new and quite exciting. Toss with a bit of sugar or honey and enjoy over ice cream, yogurt or alone with a spoon.
 
Lately, our cherries disappear too quickly for me to do anything except enjoy my own children getting as much pleasure with them as I do. If we do have a few stragglers or some berries that are less than perfect but still needn’t be wasted, they have become part of our lemonade. A quick muddling of a few cherries with cold lemonade splashed over top instantly feels of summer no matter what it looks like outside.
 
by Ashley Rodriguez
www.notwithoutsalt.com
 
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Planning For Gray

Imagine yourself sitting inside this winter, watching the rain drops race one another down the windowpane. The constant drizzle and gray days have come and you now wonder if you’ll remember what the sun looks like or if you’ll ever see it again. The thought of roasting another root vegetable is too much to bare. You dream of drinking cold lemonade on bright green grass, where a sudden shock of cold spray from the sprinkler refreshes and quenches under the heat of the sun. For some reason, the drizzly rain of our winter is nothing like the welcome sprinkler in the summer.

I want you to really think about your future self, sluggishly meandering through those long gray months, when you long for a taste of summer – one of the tastes that we presently have in abundance.

The saying is true: “Live in the moment.” Eat raspberries right off the vine. Bite into a peach so juicy you are forced to eat it over the sink. Pluck peas off the vine. Eat a tomato that has fully ripened on the plant with just a whisper of salt. These are the summer moments you will cling to when the sun fades. Preserve these moments. Soak up as much of our northwest sun as you possibly can. Eat a sweet, juicy apricot now and freeze the rest in order to attain a taste of summer in the winter. Stock up on this bounty, then can it, jam it, pickle it, or freeze it. Your future self will thank you.

Recently, I spotted a 20-pound box of apricots. I had to have it. My husband, ever the realist, pointed out that this is a very busy week and we are leaving on vacation next week. Would I have the time to deal with 20 pounds of fruit? Valid question. But these are apricots – fresh, sweet, local apricots. They might not be around by the time we return from our week-long trip. In my mind there was no option.

I immediately set out to work and a mere two days, pounds of jam, bags of frozen fruit, and three tarts later, I paraded an empty box in front of him.

With a freezer full of rhubarb, strawberries, apricots, and jam I anticipate the cold, gray mornings! I’ll be there, hot coffee in hand, with a slice of butter wheat toast slathered with apricot jam.

by Ashley Rodriguez

Chef, food blogger, and full-time mom. Read more of her writings at www.notwithoutsalt.com

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Childhood Memories

There is little that is more satisfying than when you come across a taste from your childhood. A bite of apricot pie transports me to the kitchen of my childhood home. In that memory, I stand tugging at my mom’s apron strings waiting for her to give me a job, as I so desperately wanted to be a part of the pie-making process. A steaming bowl of rice pudding, or as we called it “milk rice,” warms my body and my soul. We would eat it for dinner – it was rice, after all – simmered in milk, a little sugar, and vanilla extract. Even macaroni and cheese from the blue box carries with it some sort of sentimentality, as it was one of the first things I learned how to “cook.” My brother liked to add hot dogs to his. I liked mine straight up.

My brother also liked creamed corn. I think he and I were the only ones in the family who did. It slid out of the can into a pot to be gently warmed on the stove. When it hit your plate it slowly invaded everything around it, so nearly every bite, be it steak or steamed broccoli, also carried with it a taste of creamed corn. It was oddly sweet and smooth, but with enough corn texture to keep you interested and to subtly remind you that you are, indeed, eating a vegetable.

I think of these taste memories often as I prepare food for my three children. What food will cause them to stumble back into these days of LEGOs and grass stains? Will they fondly remember our family meals, hectic as they are in these young years, and carry on the tradition of home cooking with their own families?
One thing I know for sure, they will have creamed corn, although I doubt they will ever know that it also comes in canned form. Homemade creamed corn uses the sweetness gleaned from the sun to improve upon the flavor instead of white sugar. My version is also flecked with little green strands of fresh basil, providing a soft anise bite and a flavor that is unequivocally “summer.” Someday I hope my children will resist pulling out those little green strands, but as for the corn, they always go for seconds.

by Ashley Rodriguez

Chef, food blogger, and full-time mom. Read more of her writings at www.notwithoutsalt.com

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Plenty of Pumpkins

The summer toys were still strewn all over the yard and the leaves were just starting to think about their annual transition from green to shades of red, orange and yellow, and yet I was already dreaming of pumpkins.

Every year it is my mission to try and squeeze pumpkin into as many meals as possible. This is a skill I am very gifted in. I roll out of bed and make myself a homemade pumpkin spice latte. For breakfast I eat pumpkin muffins. For lunch it’s pumpkin soup. Dinner is some sort of pasta dish with pumpkin, sage, parmesan and bacon. Dessert is pumpkin rice pudding.

As a newlywed, I was determined to make a pumpkin pie completely from scratch for my contribution to our first Thanksgiving. I had heard rumors that it was possible to make a pie from the actual pumpkin rather than using what is found in the can. So, I got myself a pumpkin, clumsily hacked off the top and began to remove the innards. That’s where my project came to a halt. “What part do I roast?” I asked myself. I’m ashamed to admit it, but up to this point in my kitchen career pumpkin had always come from a can. I was in foreign territory. With the help of the internet, my questions were answered and I continued on my mission. The results were well worth the effort. I was rewarded with a pie rich in fresh pumpkin flavor and the thrill of telling people that this pie was made completely from scratch.

Since that embarrassing kitchen fiasco, I have roasted many a pumpkin. I have also turned back to the trusted canned pumpkin on several occasions and there is nothing wrong with that.

From the 1st of October to the last bite of my second helping of pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, I get my fill of pumpkin. This is enough to last us the rest of the year, which gives me plenty of time to figure out all the recipes that I can squeeze pumpkin in to for the next season.

by Ashley Rodriquez

Chef, food blogger, and full-time mom. Read more of her writings at www.notwithoutsalt.com