Sopa De Fubá - Collard Greens, Cornmeal and Sausage Soup

Today it's going to nudge 80 degrees. It's January for goodness sake! What is going on here? Last week it was cold and a touch rainy. Today doesn't necessarily feel like soup, but a couple of days ago it surely did.

Thanks to the outstanding Silver Lake Farms C.S.A. I belong to, I had a smallish bunch of young collard greens in the crisper and a tempting bunch of purple Russian Kale, and the desire for something warming in my toes. I had glanced up at the teetering stack of aging issues of Saveur magazine piled on top of my old wood filing cabinet, when I spied a spine that promised recipes for collard greens. Flipping through, I discovered a recipe from Brazilian food-blogger Neide Rigo unlike any I had tried before. Sopa de Fubá, a robust Brazilian soup of collard greens, cornmeal and kielbasa sausage, looked to be just what I craved.

I luckily found myself in the Fairfax district later that day so a visit to the seriously lovely ladies of the Lindy & Grundy butcher shop was in order. I picked up a few gorgeous plump kielbasa that turned a wonderful soup into a knock-out. Spicy!

Always the skeptic, I had doubts about the lack of garlic or onions, the absence of any spices or herbs, and the apparent watery quality of the soup during the early stages of cooking (it didn't look like the picture in the magazine!). The recipe is really quite simple. The main ingredients are cornmeal, kielbasa, chicken stock, collard greens, eggs, and a garnish of green onions. I was stumped as to how this was going to evolve into something marvelous.

The trick is toasting the cornmeal. This results in a richer flavor for the soup and perfumes the house with a toasty sweetness. The other thing to remember is the intense flavor of the kielbasa sausage. You don't need any spices competing with the boldness of kielbasa.

I've never made a soup with cornmeal. I expected the soup to thicken up markedly, but when you are using only half a cup of cornmeal to seven cups of chicken stock, this clearly isn't going to happen. It's actually the two lightly beaten eggs that provide most of the body to the Sopa de Fubá. And there's plenty of body at that. The soup is hearty and thick, laced with the green collards (I used half kale and half collards, contentedly), and peppered with spicy chunks of sausage. The flavor is powerfully delicious. Just be sure to taste before you salt!

A few notes. The cornmeal I used took only thirty minutes to become tender, so be sure to taste along the way. Also the greens took closer to ten minutes to wilt. This will depend on the size and age of your greens.

The recipe suggests that it will feed six. Perhaps. As a first course, you'd be fine serving six. I served this as an entrée with a salad and loaf of crusty bread to a hungry man and a very hungry pregnant woman (me!) with only enough left for one. I was wary of reheating the soup, but was pleasantly surprised by how good the soup tasted a few days later.

Sopa De Fubá - Collard Greens, Cornmeal, and Sausage Soup

1/2 cup yellow cornmeal

2 tablespoons canola oil

6 ounces kielbasa sausage, cut diagonally into 1/4-inch thick slices

7 cups chicken stock

4 ounces collard greens, stemmed and thinly sliced crosswise

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

2 scallions, thinly sliced

Heat the cornmeal in a 10" skillet over medium-high heat and cook, swirling pan constantly, until lightly toasted and fragrant, about 3-4 minutes. Transfer cornmeal to a bowl; set aside. Heat oil in skillet and add sausages; cook, turning occasionally, until browned and cooked through, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside.

Bring chicken stock to a boil in a 6-quart pot over high heat. Whisk in reserved cornmeal, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook, whisking often, until cornmeal is tender, about 40 minutes. Stir in reserved sausages and collards and cook, stirring occasionally, until collards wilt, 15 minutes. Place eggs in a medium bowl and add 1 cup cornmeal mixture; whisk until smooth. Return mixture to pot and stir until incorporated; cook for 1 minute more and season with salt and pepper. Ladle soup into serving bowls and garnish with scallions; serve hot.

Serves 6

Escarole & Meatball Soup

A steaming bowl of this escarole soup replete with meatballs is exactly what I imagine someone suffering the cold in the midwest would be hankering for. Here in sunny Southern California, where it smacks of Spring, it fits the bill quite nicely too. Hot and hearty, but not overly thick and heavy, this may just be the soup to carry you through all of 2012.

Thank you, Dana Bowen for sharing this terrific recipe with Saveur readers this December. An equally heartfelt thank you to Rita and Joseph for pointing it out to me. Rita declared it a winner and I couldn't agree more. The escarole soup contains two of my favorite things, meatballs and escarole! Add a mound of comforting rice, plenty of sweet onions, and a healthy dose of ground pepper and you've got a soup that is sure to satisfy.

The soup is a snap to make as long as you don't mind getting your hands dirty. Ground beef under your nails and in between your fingers is a certainty. For me rolling out meatballs is soothing work, carrying the promise of something delicious and nourishing just around the bend. The smell of the ingredients heaped up in the bowl was pure Italy, familiar and exotic all at once.

Just a couple of notes. I used fresh bread crumbs that I whizzed up in the food processor from a day old loaf of ciabatta. The recipe calls for seasoned bread crumbs, and I'm guessing that you can buy pre-seasoned breadcrumbs in a grocery store, but I didn't bother with that. I did not find the meatballs lacking due to this. I also don't own any Italian seasoning. I simply mixed together a tablespoon of oregano, basil, thyme, and marjoram. This did the trick, also without any noticeable want.

We supped on the escarole soup over the course of a few days. The soup is ever tasty the second and third go-round, but the meatballs do tend to fall apart (not necessarily a bad thing). Serve this to the young and old alike! A and I were mighty pleased and Fe. scarfed down the greens and meatballs like they were going out of style. A definite hit all round.

Dana Bowen's Escarole Soup

1 pound ground beef

1/2 cup seasoned bread crumbs

1/2 cup grated parmesan, plus more

1/2 cup grated pecorino

1/2 cup olive oil

1 tablespoon dried Italian seasoning

3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced, plus 1, minced

2 medium yellow onions, thinly sliced, plus 1, minced

1 small bunch parsley, minced

1 egg lightly beaten

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 large heads escarole, cored and cut in to 2-inch pieces

8 cups chicken stock

Cooked white rice, for serving

Mix beef, bread crumbs, parmesan, pecorino, 1/4 cup oil, seasoning, minced garlic and onion, parsley, egg, salt, and pepper in a bowl. Form into 30, 1 1/2-inch meatballs; chill.

Heat remaining oil in a large soup pot over medium-high heat. Add the sliced garlic and onions; cook until lightly browned, about 10 minutes. Add escarole; cook until wilted, about 6 minutes. Add stock; boil. Reduce heat to medium-low. Add meatballs; cook until meatballs are cooked through, about 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve over cooked rice; top with more parmesan and black pepper.

Serves 8

Cioppino

Joseph had decided our next cooking collaboration should be Cioppino. Boy, was I game! I frequently dream of the blackened Le Creuset pots filled with the piping hot sea stew that they serve at the Sea Chest in Moonstone Beach, just a few hours up the coast from Los Angeles.

We needed a solid recipe that could compete with all the fabulous Cioppinos that Joseph has eaten by his father's side. If you look around, you'll notice there are tons of recipes for Cioppino. We were searching for something sparkly with a touch of wow-factor.

Strangely, right at the start of our quest, Jonathan Gold, Los Angeles' revered Pulitzer Prize winning food-writer, put out a call for questions from his fan-base on Facebook. He promised to try to respond regarding all manner of subjects from Los Angeles restaurants, to baking tips, to courtship advice, and even Rodarte's fall line.

Ambitious man!

Here was our ticket to the perfect Cioppino recipe. I immediately requested the best Gold had to offer. And guess what. He responded!

He recommended a Tadich Grill recipe that appeared in Saveur magazine a few years ago. Gold emphasized that this was in no way his Tuesday-night Cioppino, but a far more luxurious Saturday-night affair.

Cioppino is actually something of a poor man's fish stew originating out of fisherman culture in the late 1800s in San Francisco. Cioppino was originally made with the odd bits and leftovers from the day's catch. If you've made it yourself, you'll realize that it costs a fair bit more than a poor man's pay to actually make this dish.

In typical Joseph and Jacqueline fashion we went overboard. Big time. Jonathan Gold mentioned showcasing the beautiful Alaskan halibut that is just coming into season. I was with him completely. And it wasn't until we were paying that I realized that a pound and a half of that beautiful white flesh cost us fifty big ones.

Yikes!

I can't even tell you how much we spent on the crab legs. But it was a dazzling success of a dinner. A bubbling cauldron of red, overflowing with plump sea scallops, sweet shrimp, first of the season halibut(!), briny manila clams, lump crab meat and king crab legs, is a decadent stew well worth sharing.

Jonathan Gold conspiratorially advised against mentioning the two sticks of butter in this dish to anyone. And truth be told, we didn't whisper a peep about it to our guests. Of course, I have to be straight with you. Let's face it, that is no small serving of butter. There is no denying however, that it produces a stunning velvety effect.

The stewy broth takes a bit of work -- plenty of chopping and two hours of simmering -- but that kind of care develops a deeply flavorful base for this Cioppino. Dredging the seafood in flour and browning all of it is the kind of last minute, pain-in-the-assiness that I often steer clear of the night of a dinner party, but when you've got a three-man team working on the production, it's no big thing.

Our dear friends and family were delighted, and we were very pleased. I feel good about recommending this recipe to you, despite the fact that I have a couple of reservations.

In the end I am more of a soupy Cioppino girl. This recipe is best suited for those of you who enjoy a thicker, stewier Cioppino. Now, I may have allowed the sauce to reduce a little bit too much or perhaps we could have used a slightly lighter hand with our dredging. The butter likely contributed to this thicker, richer experience as well. I might tinker with the recipe a touch to arrive at a brothier outcome.

Those qualms could easily be due to user error. The only other issue I had was with the use of green bell pepper. And that is definitely just a personal preference issue. I'm not a big fan of green bell peppers any more. This recipe only calls for one, but the flavor is distinctly there in the forefront of every bite. It brought a definite cajun jambalaya/gumbo flavor to the Cioppino that I did not love or think really belonged. I might substitute a red pepper or omit the bell pepper all together in the future.

Just two other small notes. We added king crab legs, giving a half of one to each guest. For me this was a revelation. At thirty-eight years old, I'm not sure how I've missed these my whole life, but wow! The crab meat was incredibly sweet and tender and so easy to get at -- a really great addition to the dish.

And finally, back to the fifty-dollar halibut. I feel like a less fabulous fish, would do just as well in this Cioppino. The flesh falls apart too much to fully appreciate the halibut's wonderful texture and taste.

Other than those bits of nit-pickiness, I can whole-heartedly suggest you make this quite spectacular Cioppino for your next spendy dinner party. Your guests will be in for a real treat. Just don't forget to serve it with a crusty sourdough boule, and some Irish butter (conveniently available at Trader Joe's these days!).

Tadich Grill Cioppino

1 medium yellow onion, peeled and chopped

2 medium carrots, peeled, trimmed, and chopped

1 rib celery, chopped

1 green bell pepper, cored, seeded, and chopped

1 leek, white part only, trimmed, cleaned, and chopped

1/2 small fennel bulb, trimmed and chopped

2 28-ounce cans crushed Italian tomatoes

2 tablespoons tomato paste

4 bay leaves

1 teaspoon dried oregano

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1 teaspoon dried basil

2 pinches cayenne

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 1/2 pounds halibut filet, cut into large pieces

16 sea scallops

16 large shrimp, peeled and deveined

1/2 pound raw bay shrimp, if available, or smallest shrimp available, peeled

1-2 cups flour

12 ounces crabmeat, preferably dungeness, picked over

2 cups dry white wine

16 manila clams, scrubbed

1/2 bunch parsley, chopped

Warm 1/2 cup of the oil and 8 tablespoons of butter in a big pot over medium heat. Add the onions and cook for 2 minutes. Stirring frequently add the carrots, celery, peppers, leeks, and fennel, cooking for approximately 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes and tomato paste, 4 cups of water, the dried herbs and cayenne. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, and then lower the heat to low. Simmer for 2 hours stirring every so often.

Heat the remaining 1/2 cup oil, and 8 tablespoons butter in a large heavy pan over high heat. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, approximately 1 minute. Dredge the halibut, scallops, and both sizes of shrimp, in the flour. Be sure to shake off any excess flour. In two batches, cook the seafood until golden, approximately 2 minutes. Transfer with a slotted spoon to the sauce pot and add the crabmeat. Cover the pot and simmer for 10 minutes.

Add the wine to the pan and heat over high heat. Scrape up any browned bits from the seafood. Add the clams and cover. Cook until all the clams have opened, approximately 5 minutes. Toss out any clams that do not open. Add the clams and the broth to the pot. Taste for seasoning and adjust accordingly. Serve in large bowls, garnished with the chopped parsley.

Serves 8

Potato and Leek Soup

When it comes to potato leek soup, I am a purist. Fewer is better, as far the ingredients go. And the less fuss the better. Who needs to muss up the blender or food processor, when a piping hot bowl full of hearty hunks of potatoes and leeks is so satisfyingly rustic?

Of course, that doesn't mean that's your preference for soupe aux poireaux. And that is indeed the beauty of this potato and leek soup recipe. It is exceptionally customizable. Feel free to purée, and why not throw caution to the wind and serve this puréed and chilled.

Mmm, Vichyssoise.

I've come to think of this recipe as a family heirloom, but that isn't exactly correct. We've eaten many pots of this soup in my family. So it seems like my mom's recipe, but it comes -- along with many other family classics -- from the New York Times International Cook Book.

I took this recipe in a notebook of other photocopied hits with me to college. This potato and leek soup along with a terrific tomato soup from the same book were two of the first dishes in my measly 18-year-old repertoire. I made it again last night for the whole family, Fe. included, and it is still something of a show-stopper.

I highly recommend a double recipe.

This simple yet decadent soup cannot be part of our regular rotation, because it is full of cream and butter. Full. But on a cold and stormy first day of spring, it was really quite perfect.

I'm not kidding about the simplicity. Anyone can make this potato and leek soup. Chop the leeks and onions. Sauté in butter. Toss in the potatoes and chicken stock. Simmer. Add a generous quantity of cream. Salt and pepper. Garnish with chives. Slurp embarrassingly.

See. You can do it in your sleep!

Potato and Leek Soup

2 large leeks

1 medium onion, chopped

3 tablespoons butter

2 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes

3 cups chicken stock

1 cup heavy cream

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Chopped chives (optional)

Trim the root end of the leeks, then cut off and discard approximately half of the green stems. Slit the leeks several times lengthwise from the stem and rinse well under cold water. Leeks can be very dirty! Chop the leeks and cook them with the onion in the butter. Cook for three minutes, stirring.

Add the potaoes and stock and bring to a boil. Simmer about fifteen minutes, or until the potatoes are tender. Add the cream and bring just to a boil. Season with salt and pepper to taste and serve hot with chopped chives.

Serves 4

Gazpacho Sevillano

It's the end of summer, and the farmers' markets are full of the riotous colors of peppers, glorious, fat tomatoes and the sweetest of onions. Cucumbers abound. Even garlic is at its best.

And it is hot. Here in Los Angeles, I imagine it is going to get much hotter still.

It's probably obvious where I'm going with this.

Gazpacho!

Now is the perfect time to whip up this cool coral soup. Some of you may be going, huh, coral? There are plenty of folks who like a chunky gazpacho with nicely diced colors of red and green and white.

I'm not one of them.

To me and to the Andalusians, gazpachos are creamy, puréed, bread based soups. I don't want to eat a bowl full of pico de gallo and call it soup. I love the velvety texture of traditional gazpacho with a few crispy, crunchy garnishes strewn over the top.

Looking for the best gazpacho recipe that would, frankly, remind me most of the one my mom used to make, I turned to Anya von Bremzen. Her definitive, modern work, The New Spanish Table, is a deservedly celebrated Spanish cookbook. She is nothing, if not thorough. Along with a concise history of gazpacho, there are six recipes for gazpacho within, featuring all manner of fruit and vegetable, from strawberry and fennel, cherry and beet to fig and almond.

I contentedly settled for the Gazpacho Sevillano or classic gazpacho, because I knew it would remind me, not only of my childhood summers, but of the time I spent in Barcelona with my father when I was twenty-one.

It turns out that von Bremzen's recipe is spot on.

The flavors are nicely balanced. I like the bit of cumin added to the garlic paste, and the use of the Italian frying pepper and the red bell. The balance of sherry vinegar and olive oil is just right.

The recipe asks for chilled bottled spring water. I'm not even sure what that is, so chilled, filtered water from the refrigerator is what I used.

Believe me, that was just fine.

I wasn't so certain about the results, the first night we sampled the gazpacho. To avoid forcing the vegetables through a food mill or sieve, von Bremzen suggests first puréeing the soup in a food processor and then blending it in a blender. This requires more washing up, but less effort over all.

My problem was that all that processing and blending seemed to really whip up the soup. It gave the soup a texture that was too frothy and emulsified for my taste. I was convinced that the time it would take to use a food mill or a china cap would be time well spent.

However, the soup seemed to calm down over the following two days. All the air that had been whipped into it, vanished leaving a beautifully smooth purée.

To combat this problem, I would recommend making this soup in the morning and serving it in the evening. Von Bremzen suggests that the soup be chilled for two hours. In my opinion, the soup is in no way chilled enough at this point. Making the gazpacho early in the day, will leave you with plenty of time for chilling.

I like gazpacho cold.

I also insist upon tiny little croutons to sprinkle on top. I enjoy a bit of chopped cucumber and pepper as a garnish as well, but something is starkly missing if there are no croutons. They are a cinch to make.

Cut some bread into tiny cubes. Almost any kind will do. I used a whole-grain country loaf. Fry the cubes in a pan in some hot olive oil, until crisp. Let them drain on a paper towel lined plate. You could also toss the bread cubes in some olive oil and bake in a medium-high oven for about ten minutes or so.

Easy!

Von Bremzen suggests waiting to add the garlic, if you are making the soup in advance. This may be a good suggestion, but honestly I had no problem with the garlic overwhelming the flavors even on the third day of eating the gazpacho.

And the third day was really the clincher. That's when I served it to my parents and sister. And you know what -- smash hit!

Gazpacho Sevillano

For the soup:

2 cups cubed day-old country bread, crust removed

2 medium-size garlic cloves, chopped

1 small pinch of cumin seeds or ground cumin

Kosher salt

3 pounds ripe and flavorful tomatoes, seeded and chopped

2 small Kirby (pickling) cucumbers

1 large Italian (frying) pepper, cored, seeded, and chopped

1 medium-size red bell pepper, cored, seeded, and chopped

3 tablespoons chopped red onion

1/2 cup fragrant extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 cup chilled bottled spring water, or more as needed

3 tablespoons sherry vinegar, preferably aged, or more to taste

For the garnishes:

Finely diced cucumber

Finely diced peeled granny Smith apple

Finely diced slightly under-ripe tomato

Finely diced green bell pepper

Croutons

Slivered basil leaves

Place the bread in a bowl, add cold water to cover, and let soak for 5 to 10 minutes. Drain the bread and squeeze out the excess liquid.

Using a mortar and pestle, smash the garlic, cumin, and 1/2 teaspoon salt into a paste.

Combine the tomatoes, cucumbers, Italian and red peppers, onion, bread and garlic paste in a large bowl. Mix well and let stand for about 15 minutes. Working in two batches, put the vegetable mixture into a food processor and process until smooth, adding half of the olive oil to each batch. Once each batch is finished, puree it finely in a blender, then transfer it to a large mixing bowl.

When all the puréeing is complete, whisk in the water and vinegar. The soup should have the consistency of a smoothie. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt or vinegar as needed. Refrigerate, covered until chilled for at least 2 hours.

Serve with garnishes.

Serves 8

Note: If making the gazpacho ahead of time, do not add the garlic more than 2 to 3 hours before serving, or it may overwhelm the other flavors.

C.S.A.

I've been wanting to join a C.S.A. (Community Supported Agriculture) organization for at least a few years now. I've looked, but surprisingly here in sunny Los Angeles there were not many options.

Thankfully this has changed. C.S.A.s allow you to partake in a local farmer's harvest on a regular basis. You are essentially a shareholder in the harvest. You pay a set amount and receive a box or bag of produce on a regular basis.

I signed up with Silver Lake Farms. That is about as local as you can get, considering we live in Echo Park. Friday was my first pickup. The haul was as follows:

carrots

cilantro

radishes

arugula (my favorite!)

spinach

romaine

mizuna

dandelion greens

green garlic

celery

red onion

This is a lot of fun! You get a big surprise every week. It challenges you to use whatever is at hand. It's a way better deal than shopping at Whole Foods!

A fantastic book to have in your collection and at the ready after joining a C.S.A. is Chez Panisse Vegetables by Alice Waters. She organizes it by vegetable, so that you are able to simply flip to the Carrot section to find the perfect recipe to take advantage of the carrots, cilantro, and red onion from your C.S.A. sack.

So here we go: Carrot and Cilantro Soup.

I made this soup for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a perfect puree. Very smooth and carroty and the cilantro salsa that you garnish it with is bright and spicy. It is not too sweet as some carrot soups can be.

The version I made yesterday was perhaps a little too light on carrots and a little too heavy on potatoes. It was still delicious, but I've changed the recipe a little bit to help avoid yesterday's flaws.

Carrot and Cilantro Soup

1 white onion, peeled and sliced

3 tablespoons butter

2 pounds carrots, peeled and cut into large chunks

1/2 pound potatoes, peeled and cut into large chunks

salt and pepper

1 1/2 quarts chicken stock

1/4 pound cilantro

1 small red onion

2 serrano or jalapeno peppers

juice of 1 lime

Stew the onions in the butter in a covered heavy pot over low heat. Once the onions are quite soft, add the carrots and potatoes, salt generously and continue to stew, covered, for an additional 10 minutes. Add the chicken stock to cover, and simmer until the vegetable are cooked through. Remove pot from the heat.

Reserve a handful of the cilantro for the salsa, and throw the rest into the pot. Puree the soup and strain it through a medium sieve. Do not leave out the straining step! It makes all the difference. Just ask Thomas Keller! Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. Make a little salsa with the red onion, cilantro, peppers, and lime juice. Chop it all up and stir it together with a little salt.

Heat the soup until warm, ladle into bowls, garnish with salsa and serve.