Potato and Onion Soup

Yesterday was, by all accounts, a spectacular day. D got some very good news, but he had to stay late at work -- which gave me ample time to whip up some celebration food for both of us. Unfortunately, I was too damn lazy to go out to the store, so I was stuck with whatever we had in the house. It wasn't much, and we had just made a mixup meal, so I wasn't really interested in throwing a bunch of stuff together randomly and seeing how it turned out. I wanted to make something hearty, exciting, and comforting. What I really wanted to do was whip up some onion tarts like this beauty from Orangette... or these cute babies from Simply Recipes... but I didn't have the time, patience, or energy to spend on the dough, which is quite an effort and would be much better with a food processor. Which I do not own. Anyhow... no tarts, yesterday. But I did have a lot of onions, a bunch of gorgeous potatoes, and a giant container of milk that I didn't know what we were planning on doing with.
Then it hit me: potato onion soup. God. I used to eat this all the time, growing up. Sometimes with leeks, sometimes with celery and garlic... the memories of this comforting, simple meal came back in a flood. And I decided to make the soup, all over again, sans any real recipe. I knew that it would be slightly thin: the milk was skim, and I have a recollection of using whole milk and heavy cream, but I figured that the potato starch would help thicken up the soup. And a handful of flour would work some magic on the consistency. I was right: the soup was thin, but not alarmingly so. It didn't really diminish the flavor or quality of the soup -- it was still quite hearty and filling.
D loved it, as did I. We nearly ate the whole pot for dinner last night. True, I didn't make a gigantic amount of it, but it was more than enough for two people. And with all the milk and potatoes, it's a stick-to-your-ribs kind of soup, so a small amount does go a long way.

Potato and Onion Soup
Begin by slowly melting 2 tablespoons of butter in a large, heavy saucepan -- as usual, I used my dutch oven, as I always do when making soup. Dice 2 large onions and add to the melted butter. Stir to coat the onions in butter and, with the heat on low, cover the pot for about 10 to 15 minutes to allow the onions to steam. While the onions are cooking, chop about 2-1/2 pounds of baby potatoes. Any kind of potato will do, but I was fortunate enough to have a sack of rainbow colored baby beauties. I have no idea what they're actually called, but I got them at our new favorite grocery store. It's just a Jewel/Osco, but -- unlike most of the groceries in downtown Chicago -- it has an outdoor parking lot, spacious aisles (lord how I hate being pushed in the grocery store; you don't even know) and all sorts of fresh, bright, squeezable produce. Andreas Viestad, my favorite Norwegian chef (although a bit too bourgeois, in my opinion... but his cuteness makes up for that) had a glorious episode centered on potatoes, and he mentioned that if you ever see any small odd-shaped "nubbly" potatoes to snatch them up immediately. He was right: these potatoes rocked -- it was a healthy mixture of mostly yukon gold and small red potatoes, smattered with a few baby purple potatoes for good measure. God, am I ever glad I didn't use them all in the soup. I want to make potato salad with the rest of the lot. I chopped these potatoes into odd-sized bites: since this is a five-ingredient recipe mostly consisting of potatoes I really wanted them to look great. That part was really fun, because I got to get a little creative with my knife and make crazy slices. I kept the skins on, mostly for color, although they could be taken off if you're so inclined.
I made sure to stir the onions a few times while steaming them so they wouldn't burn, but that wasn't really a concern since the heat was so low. After rinsing the potatoes, I dried them quickly with a paper towel and threw them into the pot with the onions. Another pat of butter was added at this point -- if I'm using skim milk, I might as well use enough butter to make it rich. I also added some salt to the vegetables in order to make the onions sweat a little, as well as a hearty dose of freshly ground black pepper. Most people would use white pepper in a white soup, but I don't own any -- I don't like the flavor of it as much as I like the flavor of black pepper. At this point, I also added about 1 tablespoon of flour, which would act as a thickener for the soup when the milk was added. After steaming the potatoes in with the onions for about ten minutes or so, I added four cups of skim milk. Stirring frequently, I brought the soup to a slow boil and allowed it to simmer until the potatoes were soft and gorgeous. I left the top on the pot, for the most part, in order to help the soup cook faster -- at this point, I was starving, so I was willing to do anything in my power to make it finish fast. After about 30 to 45 minutes of the slow simmer, the soup was finished. It was so, so, so, good. And for five ingredients and about an hour, total, cooking time? It was well worth the minimal effort.

New Scandinavian Cooking: Halibut with Herbs and Rosemary-Lemon Butter

Today, I'm featuring a delightful cooking show that airs on our local PBS station*: New Scandinavian Cooking. The show is produced in Norway and about to begin its fourth season, and rumors are that a new chef will be taking the hot seat: Claus Meyer, a Danish chef -- or gastronomic entrepreneur, as his website boasts. Although his website seems pretty firm on the details, providing stills and even a CV, the official website of the series (scandcook.com) says that Andreas Viestad, the beloved season one and two chef, will be back for a fourth season.
I'm inclined to believe Chef Meyer's website, mostly because the Scandcook website is kind of crazy. For example: click on the link to read Andreas's bio and you're taken to Tina Nordström's bio page. She's the host of the third season, and I dare say I like her even more than Andreas. I caught the show with her as the host, and when I stumbled upon a repeat of season two, I got pretty flustered. "Where's Tina? Her theme song is so much better!" (the theme songs for this show totally freaking rock, by the way). But I got used to Andreas and his wacky ways, and now I'm sad that neither of them will be back for a new season. But I'm excited for Danish food, which will be a new type of cooking for the series. Andreas specializes in Norwegian food; Tina, in Swedish.
The best thing about this show has to be the way that the food is made. Unless there are some serious weather conditions -- and I mean serious -- the food is prepared outdoors on a sort of fold out kitchen table/stove combination. You even get to watch the chef put together this contraption in fast motion, which is a trip. Watching it real-time would be a drag, but with the cool music and tah-dah pose at the end of the setup, it's one of the highlights of the show. When I mentioned weather conditions, I was understating dramatically. This guy makes ice cream on a glacier in one episode. He's not even wearing gloves, people. He churns his own butter, milks cows, rides horses, stays up all night and day making bread. Tina catches fish and guts them right on the boat (throwing the remains out to "his old friends -- a tasty treat!")

Halibut with Herbs and Rosemary-Lemon Butter
One of my favorite episodes of all time is Andreas's Royal White Halibut, which happens to be the first episode of the first season. They really knew how to launch this show, I tell you, because this episode has to be one of the more sensational ones (besides the glacier making ice cream escapade, which takes place later in the same season). One of the best things about the show in general is that they visit a particular area, cook some food local to that area, and offer up some interesting (I believe they call it "rich") history of the place. This episode is in Alta, which is far, far north. It's impossible to grow nearly anything in this climate, what with the rocky soil and the freezing temperatures, but the halibut is plentiful. We visit some local fishermen, who offer to let us trek onto their boat for an expedition out to sea. The theory is to catch some halibut and then cook it after returning to land; Andreas one-ups them by making them an appetizer on the boat, ten minutes after the fish has been caught. Wow, dude. Way to feed those hungry sailors! (Tina is fond of finding "hungry sailors" and feeding them her creations, by the way, and she says so in several episodes).
They soon return to land, 20-pound halibut in tow. He starts by cleaning the fish (thanks for the instructions, because next time I have a 20-pound fresh halibut in my kitchen, I'll know exactly what to do) and rubbing the skin on both sides with sea salt. He then sets to rubbing it with massive quantities of rosemary, chopped parsley, thyme, chopped fresh bay leaves (although he mentions that dry will suffice), and marigold.
Andreas sets to digging a pit in the sand on the beach; I'm sitting on my couch thinking: the hell? What's going on here? He's going to cook the fish in the hole. Sand and all. He starts by laying down some seaweed, then, some sticks and brush. He lights those on fire and covers them with a few large slabs of rock. More seaweed; then, the fish. A fish and seaweed sandwich, with rocks and sand for garnish! Tasty!
No, really, he's actually cooking the fish in the sand-pit. I'm quite impressed. Also worried about the texture of the sand, but he seems to think it will be fine. He begins to stuff the fish with more ridiculous amounts of the herbs above, and sets it on the seaweed bed. More seaweed on top; then, after it's covered, he pours a bottle of dry white wine (saving a glass for himself, which he drinks straight from the bottle immediately) over the entire thing. Then, a layer of sand is shoveled on top of the whole mess. Steam is pouring out from all directions. How will he know when the fish is ready to eat? Why, of course! A high-tech thermometer was placed carefully in said fish before cooking and the digital output rests on the mound of steaming sand. Brilliant! That's how they did it in the old days.
Two hours later, and the fish is ready to eat. Andreas and some of his fishing buddies dig their old friend out from his steaming grave and place him on a giant platter. It takes two men to carry it to the carving table and feeds a large crowd of twenty or so people mingling about. I wonder, did they see the steaming sand pit and say: look! Someone must be cooking halibut! More likely they were invited to the shoot, but still, it's funny to imagine them all happening upon the fish during a chilly stroll on the beach.

Want to make this at home? Substitute the 20-pound halibut for four 1/3 pound halibut steaks. Rub them with about 2 teaspoons sea salt, then create a bed of herbs in the frying pan out of 1 cup of parsley, 1 cup total rosemary, marigold, thyme, and 4 bay leaves. Use about half of the total amount on the bottom, the rest should cover the fish as it cooks.
Place the fish on the bed of herbs and cover with the remaining spices. Pour about 3/4 cup dry white wine ("Use wine that you would actually drink," Andreas recommends; otherwise, your fish won't taste any good) over the top and cover the dish. Bake in a 400º oven for about 15 to 20 minutes, until the fish is opaque throughout. We just made it directly on the stove, which turned out splendidly and took less time than baking. Brush off the herbs to serve.
You can make a rosemary butter sauce to serve with the fish, which I highly recommend. Reserve and cook down the liquid from the finished fish, until you have about 1/4 cup of the juices left. Put this to the side.
Heat 1 tablespoon butter ("until it bubbles enthusiastically"). Add 1 tablespoon chopped rosemary, 1 teaspoon chopped thyme, and 1 bay leaf. Cook for about two minutes, then add 7 more tablespoons of butter. After it melts, drop in 1 teaspoon chopped tarragon, 2 teaspoons chopped parsley, and 1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest. Cook for about five more minutes over medium heat. Be careful not to let the sauce boil; otherwise, the butter will burn. Add 2 to 3 tablespoons lemon juice, the 1/4 cup reduced marinade from the fish, and season with salt and pepper. Strain sauce and discard any chunks of herb that remain.
Pour the sauce over the halibut (tip: keep the fish warm by covering it while you make the sauce) and it is ready to eat.
Jättegott! (Delicious!)
If you ever get the chance to watch this show, I highly recommend it. It's really a treat to watch experienced chefs brave the outdoors and conquer food in its natural setting. It is much more informative, exciting, and delightful than anything you'll find on the Food Network Channel. Not to knock the Food Network, which has its place, but this program far surpasses most other cooking shows on-air today.

*The website says that the show is available to 347 public television stations in the US. It's also available on cable television (no stations listed) and DVDs can be purchased on the official website.