I have a craving in the springtime / early summer to make watercress soup. I first learned about it in Ireland. When I started researching this post, I knew instinctively to look in Ruffage, a cookbook by the chef, author, fellow Midwesterner and alum of Ireland’s Ballymaloe Cookery School, Abra Behrens. I found a suggestion there not for watercress soup but lettuce soup. Behrens writes, “cooked lettuce makes everyone wrinkle their nose at first, myself included. I first saw braised lettuce on a Jacques Pepin cooking show in a hotel room before I knew who Jacques Pepin was. Every single step along the way I scrunched my face even more - lettuce, butter, chicken stock, wine. I was wrong. The heat of the base converts the lettuce into silky little handkerchiefs.” I really love her writing, esp this idea of lettuce as a fabric material, her honesty and her humor.
The texture of a cold soup from greens is tricky. I have an idea that I don’t want to include potato, as in the Ballymaloe recipe, as well as a recipe from the Canal House, because I want to preserve the intensity of the greens in flavor, but in the past anytime I left out potato the soup is slimy, coating your lips with the glycerol texture of the broken down cress. I opted to try to meet the French-influenced lux texture of a shiny chicken stock, cream and plenty of butter with some slick greens. Behrens braised lettuce soup recipe incorporates peas, an interesting innovation.
There’s a great recipe for Lettuce-Watercress soup from Amanda Hesser in her book the Cook and the Gardener. Hesser writes “Watercress soup was once very popular in France. Considered a spring tonic, it was referred to as a potage de santé or health soup. Lettuce soup has also enjoyed its popularity. It’s been around for ages, reaching a height of sophistication in Careme’s day, during the nineteenth century.” Hesser’s green soup practice makes use of what tastes good in that moment, rather than adhering to the fanciful, almost antique recipes of yore from the likes of Antonin Careme, the king’s cook.
In the same spirit I recommend you hunt around for what greens are tasting good to you now. This recipe tasks you with imagining a blend of brightness and spiciness from different sources - kind of like how a winemaker has to make a cuvée or blend - I found it fun, hope you do too.
Green Soup
3 tablespoons salted butter
3 shallots, chopped
1 lb tender-leaved greens, like young kale, swiss chard, spinach, arugula or amaranth*
Spring of mint, picked for its leaves
Bunch of parsley, picked for its leaves
Couple of chives, chopped
¼ c water
2 cups good-tasting stock, vegetable, chicken or veal
¼ c cream
1 tablespoon Salt
Pinch of White pepper
Melt butter in a large pan. Add shallots and cook on medium-low heat until melted, about 8 minutes. Add greens (but not the herbs) and water to pan. Season the greens with salt. Cook on low heat, stirring occasionally, until cooked through, about 20 minutes. Don’t rush it. If the leaves get dry, add a bit more water as needed.
Transfer onions and greens to a blender, and add raw herbs. Add a little stock and blitz it up on low at first, add speed and stock as you go. Blend until all the flecks of green are incorporated. Should look like a green smoothie. Add the cream. Taste and add seasoning if needed. It should seem pretty thin but will thicken a bit when it gets cold. Chill in fridge until ready to serve. Garnish with chopped chives.
*Amaranth is a neutral-tasting leaf, so you can layer on flavor with herbs and most pungent and peppery greens. If you can find the herb Savory this does it really well. Amaranth also grows wild around Chicago like a weed. We do have led in most parts of Cook county in the top layer of our soil from industrial run off. In my case, amaranth just starting growing in a raised bed we have, I was only able to identify it with the app called Plant Finder. The markets are starting to have more greens and herbs, and this is a good time for the softer greens, while later in the summer we get more hearty and fibrous textures.
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