Chicken Stock, Cold Soup of Potato & Leek, with bacon crumble

Leeks are our friends more often than not. There was a time when I had no notion of leeks whatsoever, who they were, or what they were about. I am not too far removed from that time. But, this year I tried to grow my own, with some success. My dietary habits have drastically changed.
I was thinking about how much fast food I used to eat. In college, I would eat hamburgers from the all-night Zip's, evading what could be have quickly become a series of DUI related incidents, to secure a bathtub of french fries and world renown tarter sauce, and a bag of five cheese burgers. More often than not I was soomehow able to consume the entire purchse, and usually did, with the gnashing nirvana of starving serengeti jackals. For lunch the next day, if I wasn't asleep, I would reinvent the experience at Jerk in the Box with a double jalapeno cheeseburger. These were dark and boring times. But given the chance, I passed on the vernerable Big Tom cheeseburger the other night. This is to say that I have traveled some distance from where I used to be in terms of important health decisions. Not that far. It is both bittersweet & bittersour and sadly, as I age further away from the undergraduate days, though dark and boring they were at times, I will mourn the absence of hamburgers in my life just as I would mourn the death of a well loved family pet. I've almost forgotten about them, as they have been replaced by so many elevated gustatory delights (I'm brining all night with the young Amercians, and cherrywood smoking chicken drumlets and spider pig cutlets tomorrow morning) that I think of burgers now as pedestrian, boring, and daresay it...kind of nasty. I used to enjoy them as the food of the everyman, the people's sandwich, and they are. But even the everyman should not be eating burgers everyday. But, isn't that part of what makes the everyman the everyman, and not the extrodinary man? If I can eat fewer hamburgers, anything is possible. We live in exciting times. The White House lawn has a kitchen garden now that actually gets incorporated into the foodstream. People are hoping stuff and changing things, and I count myself amongst them now. The Dill Clinton hamburger fast is a progressive reversal of policy, yet I still have mustard on my face. I'll give you irreverent:



The picture of chickenstock on this post is included simply to show that I actually made chickenstock just for the potato leek soup. But it was off of the bone, and eventually became the risotto that dares not speak its name. Chickenstock requires another posting altogether.

Well, I saw a recipe whilst trolling the web for recipes, and I saw several interesting meal ideas, but none more so than this potato & leek soup. It was the color of the soup that caught my eye, a bright light green that reminded my of glo-sticks, the contents of which I believe to be poisonous. Bright colors are a defense mechanism in some of nature's creatures, a warning sign to would-be predators, usually saying that yes, I am quite a poisonous thing, and you would not be well served by ingesting me. But, instead of being repelled I took a closer look (another natural impulse), and after examining the ingredients and the instructions, I set about the day's hunting and gathering, and bartering.

After becoming quickly aquainted and subsequently enamored with leeks, each leek is a personal hero of mine, a martyr of flavor, and I respect them. They are all that is right about all things onionesque, a true gift to us all. I shouldn't have to sell it, but it seems to me that leeks are grossly underrated. Leeks are great with anything. Peanut butter & leek sandwich? Perhaps not. Leeks & potato cakes? Served on another planet, absolutely wild. They do what shallots do to food, neatly underlining and creatively supprting ingredients, making a dish stand out. It is that certain something you've been missing in your life. And potatos? What do I know about those potatoes. I am potatoes. I put them in lamb fat. I mash them up with butter and rosemary and heavy cream and salt and pepper, and I always try and use russets from eastern washington. I did for this soup along with big organic leeks from the grocer.
This recipe is not mine, but not really anyone's. I never really measure anyway, and this soup is a forgotten classic. Which partially explains why it takes me so long to make stuff. 'Cause I dropped this, and I dropped that.

The soup is off the bone:

2 cups finely diced raw potatoes
4 tablespoons butter (the real stuff)
6 leeks, cleaned and cut into 1 inch pieces (it all gets blended anyway)
3 cups chicken bouillon (so insulted, I made stock)
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshy ground black pepper
a dash of nutmeg
11/2 to 2 cups sour cream or heavy cream (sour cream would dominate this. I tried. No. Better still, do 1/2 & 1/2 if worried about about the richness. But that's dumb, why deny the richness?)
Chopped chives (or whatever. I put parsely in the soup when I blended it, and used green onion for garnish. Maybe dill would be right for this too, or tarragon)

Then something like this, but really all you have to do is not burn anything in the pan. Again, not my recipe, but:

Cook the potatoes in salted water to cover until just tender. Melt the butter in a skillet and cool the leeks gently, tossing them lightly, for a few minutes. Add the chicken bouillon and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer the leeks until tender. Add the potatoes to the leeks and the broth and season to taste with salt, papper and nutmeg. Put this mixture in the blender (you will need to blend it in two lots) and blend for 1 minute, or until smooth. Chill. When ready to serve, mix in sour cream or heavy cream. Garnish with chopped chives.

It says chill, but I tried it warm first out of my hungerlust. Incredible. It is a cold soup and a hot soup, and it tastes lusterous no matter how you enoy it. Imagine a seasonal harvest unraveling its collective bounty on your tastebuds. It has a smoove and excellent mouthfeel, thick, a definite moustache painter. The nutmeg extracts the sweetness of the leek, and does wonderous things for the potato, manufacturing a happyness that would be less evident without it. The most appealing aspect is the color, and if ever the was a testament to a less is more appraoch, a call for simpler cuisine, this is the phone ringing. Entirely french in the classic celebrated style; the bright alfalfa color green, the flavor, the pairings of the ingredients are perfect and undisputed. The cream and butter provide the soul, and the simplicity make this dish the most logical soup, the only soup that matters. Or whatever...its just soup, I don't know.

And the following clip is very important. This is youtube's, this is not mine, this is totally random and this explains...so...much...except for why his acting hasn't improved. He's a nebulous emotionless neverbeing from history's chaotic birth. Perhaps he is the cause of history's birth, godfather of time, midwife to the cosmos:

In Praise of Stallone Cuts & Power Cheeses...

The origin of Stallone Cuts:



October 31st Feastival. Lost my mind and my stomach at Trader Joe's, bought an irresponsible quantity of mediterranean delites. The place was so packed, I shared empathy with the peppers forced into the jar of roasted red peppers that I was holding. It reminded me of why I enjoy shopping late at night, in secret, when I make the best decisions and harness the creativity of the night, in a frosty dairy section somewhere at some local food purveyor. Or not. They don't seem keep the vampire business hours I am accustomed to. Does anything good ever happen to anyone between the hours of nine am and five pm?

I was preparing an appetizer of prosciutto, herb'ed groat cheese, roasted red peppers, basil, and capers. These are the modfied Stallone Cuts. They looked fantastic and tasted of what Italy must taste like. Every single one of them was consumed. The pairing of goat cheese and prosciutto was the perfect contrast. Goat cheese is a power cheese, grassy, brite, and generally overwhelming. Can't get enough of it myself. I am not going to stop eating goat cheese until I get enough of it. But, the sweet and subtle, salty prosciutto countered and deliciously subdued the power cheese, the ideal counterpart. Add the capers and fresh basil and roasted pepper, subtract weakness, and you have the simple equation for a unique and ponderous gustatory experience. It left me stammering foodcentric haiku all evening long, dumbstruck. But it was a large affluvial spectrum of flavors, big and expansive, and thus the modified Stallone Cuts seemed to catch people by surprise...methinks it was the goat cheese awakening the non-believers. Cheesus flavor riot. The best part is that the prosciutto is self-adhesive, so there is no need to harpoon the Stallone Cuts with dangerous and wildly expensive toothpicks, the scourge of finger foods, friend of gums.

While I refer to my pesto as

pesto deluxe de speciale

my pesto is always a little different, but still very basic and rudimentary. There are of course the requisite pesto ingredients, namely basil, usually Thai basil. This is an asian deli classic good buy, and tastes more of basil than basil, out basiling other basils. Cheapest pinenuts I can find. I figure little is won or lost on the battlefieled of love and pinenuts. Olive oil, usualy takes me twenty minutes to select a bottle, because is it such an important ingredient in my diet. Salt,cracked pepper (heavy on both), and some parmesan areggiano, best I can afford. From here, I have a list of additonal participants that I usually invite:

--Roasted Red Pepper.
--Sundried tomatoes. Because they are amazing, and taste of the sun.
--Parsely, the original.
--Italian parsely, chopped rough and and thrown in
--Feta cheese. Another power cheese. It is such a strong complement with the herb
flavors, and very satisfying contrast to the basil.
--Scallions provide an undeniable freshness, and another shade of green.
--Shallots. Nothing is too onionesque for me, but I do one or the other (shallots).
--Jalapeno, seeded. Haven't tried that, but why not? Especially with some feta.
--Extra parmesan shaved on top. So nice.
--Cilantro. Undoubtedly my favoite herb. Cilantro makes any pasta better tasting
and more dynamic.
--Little rosemary.
--Kale, thin chop. A greatway to add a crisp to balance the pasta, which should not
be crisp.

I grow parsely, scallions, rosemary, cilantro, kale (pictured above), and basil, all growing adjacent to my taco plantation. An herb garden is an absolute necessity for a gustatory jedi. Herb gardens are culinary tool sheds, and pesto is a prime example of why they exist. Classic is great for basil. I like it simple too. But any of these premutations added at the end of the show are sure to provide you with the change we can believe in feeling.

The last item is hard to even discuss. It reflects my willingness to expand or broaden my skill set, and my mission of administering relentless beatdowns to bland meals. It is all about having an intersting diet where I am more familiar and in control of the food I consume, ideally making my life and diet more interesting, and thus transorming my life and mind into more pleasureable places to inhabit. This dish is very emblematic of why I enjoy doing what I do. Born out of necessity for another pasta dish for the feastival, I recalled how much I enjoy my cousin's wife's baked ziti, and decide to give it a chance with a different approach. Feeling cavalier, I made a power cheese sauce of gorgonzola, half & half, butter and flour and minced garlic. Melting and stirring, smooving, repeatedly, I had it where I wanted it after about thirty minutes. I had placed the drained al dente ziti in a large dish for mixing, along with olive oil, mozzarella cheese, plenty of spicy italian sausage (half cooked, drained mostly), rosemary, salt, cracked pepper, chopped purple kale and parsely from the garden, and some basil, mixing all thoroughly. AT a bubbling temperture, with the sauce at the right consistentcy, it leaves the stove and is poured atop of the pasta. Th intention is to evenly coat each piece of the ziti, but not so that the sauce ends up pooled in the bottom of the dish. If anything, more on top means that a fine, bubbling golden crust can develop on the top of the dish, a dome of power cheese.

Because all of the ingredient are partially cooked, I slow baked it at about 325 to 350 degrees for about 45 minutes to an hour, or until the cheese dome forms. It was one of the better dishes I have ever served to anyone. There is a strong gustatory portfolio in this dish. Blue cheese power cheese sauce, smokey and deep, with a cache of tanginess. Off of the bone. Copious amount of rosemary, blue cheese, and savory italian sausage, proved to be an irresistable siren song. It was loud, large, mouthwatering and indulgent, filthy rich and flagrant with flavor. I would not have changed anything. The leftovers were decimated because of the magnetism of the combination of flavors, which pulled me back to the refrigerator repeatedly and with invisible, unsettling force. I'm thinking about how I want more of that and need to make it this weekend. But I have a great recipe for a roasted red pepper soups, and some fresh tomatoes resembling lemons (panzanella), and I wanted to brine and smoked some pork chops. And make pork stock.

All told, there was an interesting tapestry of flavors woven into my moustache.