Words and Images by Fiona Hugues
In a world seemingly obsessed with health and wellness, somewhat boring broths and savoury soupy elixirs are appearing in all the bourgeoise spots frequented by the bendy fitspo crew (those active wear types all freshly unwound and retreated). Each to their own, but cynical me (who prefers a wild dash in the wind, an ocean plunge or a dose of shit shovelling and weeding to get grounded) does enjoy and sometimes need a warm bowl of spoon-able nourishment in the cooler months. Mind you, I’ll only solitarily consume it – all that sucking, slurping and mopping of slop will have me uncentred and wanting to garotte any other gruel guzzlers close by.
Dicovered by archaeologists, the world’s oldest recipe for soup from 6000BC called for hippopotamus, sparrows, vegetables, lentils and spices. The thought of Gloria from the Madagascar movie and my dear pet sparrow Ernie brewed together in a cauldron is the thing of mind warping and nightmarish fairy tales, but alas it seems soup has all sorts of sinister stories chronically attached. From goulashes of stones, bolts, buttons, wood and nails designed to deceptively lure lowly villagers to share food to dark forests full of wicked witches hunched over steaming cauldrons stuffed with a conglomeration of small children and sweet animals, soup history has all the creepy baggage.
Cue muddy festered Medieval castle courtyards – before the name ‘soup’ came about, a gruel-like meal called ‘pottage’ was a common dish among the peasant folk. It apparently was a nutritious soup filled with vegetables and grains and often served with a loaf of dark, crusty bread. The swanky wealthier individuals of the Middle Ages added meats and expensive ingredients to their mishmashes but still, in the original manner, served it slopped over bread.
And here, dear readers, I finally get to my point – the word soup comes from the French word soupe (‘soup’ or ‘broth’), derived from Latin suppa – ‘bread soaked in broth’, from which also comes the word ‘sop’, a chunk of bread used to soak up soup or a thick stew.
Voila, there it is, bread and soup were simply made to be together.
So with all these historical hodgepodges and brew ups in mind, here is my extremely adaptable version of our good old family boil up, oozing with Scots grain, with plenty of suggested bready and tasty accompaniments to serve alongside.
Go forth warriors, make this dish that’s particularly good when one is feeling off colour, ill or even perfectly pert. Mind though, don’t go throwing your pets or children into the pot.
Malady Melange – a tasty mishmash to cure any malady
She’s named ‘Malady Melange’ as the word ‘malady’ [pronounced “MAL-uh-dee] is derived from the Latin words male, meaning ‘bad or ill’ and habitus for ‘have, hold’. When one has a malady, it’s like something bad is holding you, such as an illness, a dose of the seasonal snots or just maybe the malady of a depressing cold winter’s day. By adding bread in any shape or form to this magically medicinal brew, my lord, you’ve got one hell of a miserable day remedy cradled in a steaming hot bowl.
Ingredients are just suggested; use whatever you fancy or have handy. Bone-in cuts of meat are best used, just for decent depth of flavour. My high recommendation is that to each bowl you load in a decent dollop of crème fraiche. The richness and sour notes it adds are rather something not to be missed.
chicken thigh cutlets, skin on, bone in (or try beef shins, lamb necks)
1 cup pearl barley, rinsed and soaked in water overnight
2 leeks, chopped into 3cm lengths (or brown onion, sliced)
4–5 garlic cloves, sliced
2 fennel bulbs (or half a celery bunch), sliced 3mm thick
baby carrots or chopped carrots (optional)
peeled lemon zest and a squeeze of juice
1 cup good white wine (or a slop of whiskey)
2 litres of chicken stock
salt & pepper
olive oil
spring onions, sautéed (optional)
a hunk of old Parmesan rind
crème fraîche and some bready things to serve
Rinse the barley and boil for around 20 minutes until al dente. Drain and set aside.
In a large saucepan or high sided casserole, over medium high heat with a little olive oil, fry the chicken thighs on both sides until crisp and golden. Set aside.
Add the leek, garlic, fennel, and carrots (if using) to the pan with the peel of lemon zest.
Stir or shake the pan then slop in the wine to deglaze the lovely flavours from the bottom. Cook for a minute or so to get rid of the alcohol and then add the stock.
Bring up to a simmer and return the chicken to the pan and add the Parmesan rind. Cook for 12–15 minutes or until chicken is pulling off the bone.
Stir through the cooked barley, season, and add a squeeze of lemon juice to taste.
Serve hot in bowls with an unashamed amount of crème fraiche and spring onions.
SERVE WITH ANY OF THE PICTURED ACCOMPANIMENTS –
Hunks of fresh sourdough or crusty loaf – toasted or not.
Crostini, Croutons & Croutonettes (I made that name up but it sounds cute) – To a jar add melted butter, a slop of olive oil and a few cloves of crushed garlic to taste. Shake and leave to get to know each other for half an hour then brush on to cut pieces of slightly stale bread. Bake on lined trays at 190°C until golden and crisp. Store in airtight containers for a fortnight or so.
For the Pangritata – Throw some of the above croutons into a processor, add some herbs if you fancy and whizz to make a loose crumb. Perfect to sprinkle over pasta too.
Mozzarella Toasties – Brush slices of sourdough with the garlic butter or olive oil and sandwich grated mozzarella sprinkled with Tasty or Parmesan cheese if you want more flavour. Grill in a panini press until golden and the cheese is oozing.
Cheese Tartines (not pictured, my kids ate them) – Slice baguette or sourdough thinly, brush with the garlic butter and sprinkle with a little cheese. Bake on lined trays as above, until crisp, melted and golden.
Crispy Pancetta – Lay slices of pancetta or prosciutto on lined trays and bake until crisp. Allow to cool and crush onto the top of soup or pasta.
And last but not least – Fried lardons or chopped bacon rashers, lemon wedges and it should be compulsory in my mind, lots of crème fraîche.