Winter Vegetable Soup

December is a good month to be unemployed. That’s my opinion, anyway, and the reason why my most recent efforts to find employment have been halfhearted at best. In January, my job search will become more earnest, but for now, I’m not exactly straining myself. That said, I don’t want to give you the impression that I’m lazy, because I have had no trouble keeping myself busy. Andrew and I are still settling into our new place, and so I’m working at making it feel more like home. I’ve also been exploring our new neighbourhood, and discovering wonderful restaurants, butchers, and other shops. I joined a food co-op last week that advocates for all things local, organic, and environmentally sustainable, so as you can imagine, I’m very excited. Of course, there has been some Christmas shopping, as well as some Christmas baking, and it’s nice to be able to do these things at my leisure, instead of trying to juggle them with a demanding work or school schedule. I also made this soup.

I know, it doesn’t seem like much to look at, but I had it for lunch every day last week, and I’m still in love with it. The soup is simply composed of cubed vegetables simmered in chicken stock, and flavoured with some dried herbs (that’s right, I said dried herbs, and I’m not ashamed to admit it; they taste wonderful in this soup). I used mainly seasonal root vegetables: onion, garlic, carrot, turnip, and yams. I was hesitant to add the yams at first, because I worried that they may make the soup cloyingly sweet, but that wasn’t the case at all. They add just a hint of sweetness to the broth, and the chunks of smooth, creamy yam contrast pleasantly with the firmer turnips and carrots.

I made the chicken stock myself, and it contributed significantly to how good the soup was, but I’m sure you would have decent results with store bought chicken or vegetable stock that you really like the taste of. I also added some pearl barley to a) make the soup heartier, and b) add more contrast to the texture of the soup. Pearl barley has a firm exterior that, once cooked correctly, bursts in your mouth when you bite down on it to reveal a softer inside. It’s sort of a cross between crunchy and chewy. Pearl barley is also a good soup component because it does not absorb that much liquid, compared to something like rice or pasta, which tend to soak up all the liquid in a soup if it’s left to sit, even in the refrigerator. And it tastes delicious.

Once everything was prepped, I sweated the onion and garlic, and then the remaining ingredients all went into the pot together and simmered for forty-five minutes or so. It needs to simmer for at least long enough to cook the pearl barley. Meanwhile, the stock becomes delicately flavoured with the herbs and vegetables. The resulting soup is simple and unassuming. The flavours aren’t bold or overpowering, but rather, subtle and complex. I want to say that it tastes nourishing, though, of course, nourishing is not a taste, but maybe you know what I mean. You know when you taste something, and you can almost feel how it is not just filling your belly, but also providing you with the nutrients you need, giving you energy and making you stronger? That’s what this soup tastes like, and it’s a taste I can only describe as good.

 Winter Vegetable Soup

Makes approximately 1 gallon/3.75 litres 

2 tbsp olive oil

1 medium onion, medium dice
1 clove garlic, thinly sliced
1 tsp dried rosemary
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp dried savory
9 cups/2 litres (or more) good quality chicken or vegetable stock, preferably homemade (taste it first and make sure you like the flavour)
1 large white turnip, peeled, medium dice
2 medium yams, peeled, medium dice
2 medium carrots, peeled, halved lengthwise, and cut into 1 cm slices
½ cup pearl barley
Salt and pepper, to taste

Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the onion and sauté until it becomes translucent, about 6 minutes. Stir in the garlic, then the rosemary, thyme, and savory. Stir for about 30 seconds longer, until the garlic and herbs become fragrant. Add the chicken or vegetable stock, and then stir in the turnip, yams, carrots, and barley. Add about half a teaspoon of salt. Increase the heat to high to bring the soup to a boil. Once it boils, reduce the heat to medium and let the soup simmer for about 45 to 50 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the liquid reduces to the point that the vegetables are not swimming in the broth, add more. You can also partially cover the pot to slow the evaporation of the liquid.

The soup is ready once the pearl barley is fully cooked. The grain will have a firm outside, but when you bite into it, it shouldn’t be hard at all. Taste the soup and add salt and black pepper to taste. It is now ready to serve. This soup keeps in the fridge for up to 5 days or so, and it also freezes very well.

Bacon Faro

I debated with myself whether or not I should add the word “risotto” to the end of this recipe’s name. Though the end result is undeniably risotto-like, the method is not strictly a risotto method, and so, I don’t think it quite deserves the title. But what’s in a name, right? This is a delicious recipe I created that would work equally well as a side or a main course. I was inspired by the bacon-infused faro I sampled off a friend’s plate at Anchovies & Olives recently, as well as the quarter pound of bacon that I needed to finish up. It was all in all one of those look through the refrigerator, find a bunch of stuff that needed to be consumed, and throw it in there-type situations. So, I’d encourage you to get creative and do the same if you find a number of half-finished items in your fridge, like the cup of chicken stock, one half of an onion, and almost empty bottle of wine I found in mine.

 I started by chopping up the bacon and rendering the fat over low heat until it crisped up. You could keep all that beautiful, bubbly, golden fat in the pan, but I chose to pour some of it off, because a quarter pound of bacon does render a quite a bit of fat. Next, I added half a diced onion, and let that sweat for a bit. Then, some garlic and red pepper flakes.

At this point, I added the faro, and stirred it to get each grain covered with fat and distributed evenly throughout the rest of the ingredients. Then, in went about a half cup of wine, which I stirred until it had almost completely reduced and been absorbed. Up until this point, my technique was very much a risotto technique: sweat some primary ingredients, stir in the grain and get it coated in fat, and then add a small amount of liquid. Here, though, is where I departed from a risotto method. I did not painstakingly stir in a little liquid at a time, waiting for it to be absorbed, before adding more, and standing over the pot the whole time, ensuring that each grain was cooked evenly. Nope, I decided to keep things simple, and I threw in the rest of the liquid (I used a combination of chicken stock and water), brought it up to a simmer, covered the pot, and let it cook away.

To finish the dish, I went back to my risotto roots again. Once the faro had been cooked through, I stirred in some butter and parmesan, giving the dish just a touch more richness to complete it. Also, it’s worth noting, I used a little bit more liquid than I needed to cook the faro through, so that there was still some liquid left that had become thick with starch and rich from absorbing all the wonderful flavours in the pot.

What I was left with was a very risotto-like faro dish tasting of bacon, and a hint of garlic and spice. I made it as a side-dish, but it would be more than substantial enough as the main component of your dinner. I ate it with a feeling that I had made a great discovery, some well-hidden secret that Italian chefs don’t want you to know: you can make something that looks, tastes, and acts a lot like risotto with about half the effort. Who knew?

Bacon Faro
Serves 4 as a side dish, or 2 as a main course

¼ lb. bacon, chopped
½ medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
½ tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1 cup faro
½ cup dry white wine
2 ½ cups chicken stock (or a combination of stock and water, or just water)
1 tbsp. butter
½ cup finely grated parmesan
Salt and pepper, to taste

Heat a wide, heavy-bottomed saucepan, over medium-low heat. Add the bacon and cook it, stirring it occasionally, until the fat has been rendered and the bacon is very crispy. Pour excess fat from the pan until about 2 tablespoons remain. Increase the burner to medium, and add the onion; sweat it until it is soft and translucent. Stir in the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook for one minute.

Increase the heat slightly, and then stir in the wine. Let the wine simmer away until it has reduced and has been almost fully absorbed, stirring constantly. Stir in the stock, water, or stock and water combination. Bring the liquid to a simmer, cover the pot with a tight-fitting lid, and reduce heat to low. Cook until the faro has been completely cooked through, about 45 to 50 minutes.

When faro has been cooked to the desired tenderness, turn off the heat, and stir in the butter and parmesan. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve immediately.