Duivenvoorden Yvonne - Soup swap: comforting recipes to make and share

To John, Maya, and Emma

Text copyright 2016 by Kathy Gunst.
Photographs copyright 2016 by Chronicle Books LLC.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

ISBN 978-1-4521-4851-9 (epub, mobi)

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During one of the fiercest New England winters in recent memory, I awoke to find my kitchen door frozen shut and two of my kitchen windows totally obscured by mountains of snow. It was a long season of coping with whiteout blizzard conditions; bitter, howling winds; and record snowfalls. On one frigid but unusually sunny and clear day that winter, I was in Boston to pick up my husband at South Station when a cop banged on the roof of my car. Dutifully I rolled down the window. Maam, you cant stop here, he barked. Were in the middle of an emergency. Emergency, officer? I asked, imagining every terrible scenario that has ever leaped from my TV screen. Yes, maam. A snow emergency! Keep moving.

Keep moving. Words that were easier said than done that winter. New Englanders are hardy when it comes to snow and cold weather, but in my three-plus decades of living here, it was a winter no one will soon forget. In late November the severe weather arrived, and it stayed clear into mid-April. But as it turned out, that winter was good for several thingssleeping, cross-country skiing, and making soup.

I spent several long, dark months in my kitchen creating soup recipes. I woke up thinking about soup and got back into bed at the end of a long soup-filled day reviewing the days recipes, Wow, that fish chowder was good. Not sure if the carrot-ginger soup has too much ginger. What if I topped the tomato soup with tiny grilled-cheese-sandwich croutons?

One morning at six-thirty, as the sky was turning a fluorescent pink, my husband came downstairs, bleary-eyed, to find me sauting leeks and chopping onions. Kind of early for leeks, dont you think? he asked, looking at me like I might have finally lost it.

We ate soup for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I had small bowls for an afternoon pick-me-up. And let me tell you, I felt great. Soup, it turns out, is very healthful food.

I grew up in the 60s eating canned Campbells Tomato Soup with grilled American cheese sandwiches. I adored canned soups for their consistent salty taste and smooth, almost mushy texture. I dont remember my mother ever making soup from scratch. In fact, Im not sure I even understood it was something you could make until my first trip to Europe.

But Im getting ahead of myself.

This story starts with my friend and neighbor, Hope Murphy. Five years ago, as winter was fast approaching, she called me. I have the best idea, she began. As someone who is perpetually optimistic, Hope is aptly named. I love making soup all winter, she explained, but I get really sick of having the same leftover soup day after day. What if we had a soup-swap party?

A what?

Of course, she had thought it all through. We invite six food-loving couples and meet once a month during the winter. One couple hosts, and each of the other couples brings a homemade soup. The hosts provide a side dish, such as a salad, along with a loaf of crusty bread and a dessertand we have a party. Then we all go home with different soups to enjoy all week. No one gets bored with just one pot of leftovers.

The deal was that everyone had to love to cook and that we would only invite friends who werent on special diets. (We love vegans, vegetarians, and our dairy- and gluten-free friends, but sometimes you just dont want to alter a menu.) Half a decade later, the Second Sunday Soup Swap Suppers (Hope doesnt pass up a chance for alliteration) are alive and well. They have become a ritual we all look forward to.

The first soups that appeared at our swaps were excellent, but they were what you might expecttomato, chicken noodle, and a lot of pures. As we got into soup-making season, however, the sophistication and depth of taste (and skill) evolved. Suddenly, we were sharing bowls of Thai Red CurryChicken Noodle Soup . Was it peer pressure? Having a long winter to focus on something? Or maybe we were all becoming master soup-makers?

Soup swaps can happen anywhere, with any number of people. I wrote an article for Yankee magazine a few years back about our suppers and have since met people who have told me that after reading the piece, they started their own soup swaps. They formed their own groupswith coworkers, fitness buddies, book-group members, fellow teachers, single pals, and othersand simply used the venues at handthe office, yoga class, meeting room, school teachers lounge, and so on.

These dinners yielded several unexpected gifts. Winter seemed shorter and more exciting. Taking on the challenge of becoming a soup master gave a new dimension to a season that can seem like it lasts forever here in New England. And for some people, making soup led them to a more healthful diet. The parents of two young kids told me how they used to rely on canned soup (full of sodium and preservatives) for snacks and family dinners, and how the soup suppers changed their kids attitudes toward soup to the point where they are now cooking and enjoying homemade soups as a family.

But perhaps the biggest surprise of all was the sense of community that these soup dinners built. Community can mean a lot of things; your neighbors, your friends, your colleagues, members of your temple or church. When we started the soup-swap suppers, the twelve of us had just a few things in common: We all loved to cook.

And we all knew Hope and her husband, Brad. Although we all lived within thirty minutes of one another and some of us were already friendly, there were others we knew only slightly. Turns out, there is a camaraderie that comes from sharing soup on cold winter evenings that has tied us together in an unlikely bond. Our circle of soup-loving friends has grown to be much more than a once-a-month gathering at a dinner party.

Over the years, we have developed rituals. At one supper, we decided that our soups needed to be introduced before we dove into our bowls. Each cook briefly described the ingredients that went into the soup and the source of his or her inspiration. The tone of these introductions always reminds me of a therapy group, Hello, my name is Kathy, and tonight I made a roasted winter vegetable soup with a parsley pesto because when I was a kid we always... Some might consider this ritual pretentious, but it became great fun.

Our budding soup masters started shopping at farmers markets (yes, northern New England is full of winter farmers markets) in order to make soup with locally sourced ingredients. When we traveled for work or pleasure, we brought back soup recipes instead of souvenirs. Soup brought us together.