Late Winter at the Farmers' Markets: Mushroom Barley Soup

Both of the major markets near us are open all year, with our faithful producer/providers bringing in the best of what they have.  By March, the produce pickings are indisputably slimmer, and as the days grow longer, I speculate when the first harbingers of the coming season will appear.  (Ramps? Early April?)  Nevertheless, I’m hungry now, and I find my attention gravitating toward the purveyors of beef, whose frozen offerings are varied and plentiful.  For a range of reasons (aesthetic, ecological, economic, ethical, salutary, spiritual*), I don’t wish to avail myself this wonderful meat with unrestrained abandon too often.  So I’m thinking about a meaty bone that can be the base of a hearty, filling soup, and I find a cross section of the shank, about two inches thick, with a hefty bone and plenty of marrow.  This affordable, flavorful cut will make a rich stock for a big pot of barley soup and punctuate it with small bits of tender meat.

*This order was determined by alphabet, not priority.

Before I make the stock, I briefly brown the shank and onion in the bottom of the soup pot and deglaze with a little sweet wine to add a bit more umami and increase the complexity of the broth’s color and flavor.  It will need to cook for quite a while (though the meat gets cut off the shank as soon as it’s tender), so it’s good to make it in advance.  This way, the excess fat can be easily removed from the surface.  The rest of the soup can come together in a couple hours, but like all winter soups, sitting overnight only improves it.

For the stock:

·      A two-inch cross section of beef shank, about the size of a dessert plate

·      A medium onion, peeled and quartered, with the root end trimmed, but not removed (save the peel)

·      1 tablespoon vegetable oil

·      ¼ cup Marsala wine

·      A large carrot, scrubbed and cut into chunks

·      The leafy ends of two celery stalks

·      bay leaf

·      8-10 black peppercorns

·      2-3 allspice berries (optional)

·      1 teaspoons salt

Thaw the beef shank completely and drain it on paper towels.  Season it generously with salt and pepper.  Heat the oil in the bottom of a large soup pot over medium heat and put the shank in, along with the onion quarters, cut sides down.  Brown for about 5 minutes, then flip the shank and turn the onions to the other cut sides and brown for 5 more minutes.  Remove the shank and onions to a plate.

Pour the Marsala wine into the pot and deglaze, scraping up the browned bits with a wooden spoon.  When the wine is reduced by half, add around 8 quarts of water to the pot.

Return the shank and onion to the pot and add the onion peel, carrot, celery tops, bay leaf, peppercorns, allspice berries, and salt.  Bring it to a simmer over medium heat, then turn it way down and gently cook, uncovered, for an hour or more, until a sharp knife slips in and out of the shank meat without resistance.  Skim off any foam or scum that accumulates on the surface. 

Remove the shank, cut out the meaty sections, and return the rest (bone, sinew, marrow, etc) to the pot.  Chop the meat into small chunks and reserve.  Continue to cook the broth until it is dark in color, rich and flavorful, adding a little more water if necessary.  Strain the broth into a large saucepan and set aside, discarding the solids

For the soup:

·      1 ounce dried porcini mushrooms

·      12 ounces sliced fresh mushrooms (mixed varieties, but nothing too delicate)

·      2-3 tablespoons vegetable oil

·      1 large onion, peeled and cut into small dice

·      1 large carrot, peeled and cut into small dice

·      1 stalk celery, cut into small dice

·      salt and pepper

·      1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme (or 1 teaspoon dried thyme)

·      1 cup pearled barley

·      1 cup white wine

·      1 can tomatoes, with juice

·      ½ cup finely chopped parsley

Put the porcini in a large glass measure and fill with hot tap water to 2 cups.  Soak for 20 minutes and strain, pressing the mushrooms to get most of the liquid out.  Save the liquid, chop the mushrooms finely, and set aside.

Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large soup pot over medium-high heat.  Sauté the mushrooms until well browned.  Do this in two batches, if necessary, to avoid crowding the mushrooms.  Remove to a plate and set aside.

Heat the remaining oil over medium high heat and add the onion, carrot, and celery.  Season with salt and pepper, stir well, cover the pot, and turn heat down to low.  Cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are soft, 10-12 minutes.  Remove the lid and turn the heat up to let the vegetables brown a bit, 2-3 minutes.  Stir in the barley and thyme and cook for another minute more.

Add the wine and stir well, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom of the pot.  When the wine is reduced by about half, add the tomatoes and their juice, and bring to a simmer, stirring regularly and breaking the tomatoes apart.

Add the reserved mushroom liquid and about 3-4 cups of the stock.  Keep some of the stock in reserve.  Bring the soup to a rolling boil, then reduce to a gentle simmer.  Cook the soup until the barley is tender, about 45 minutes.  Stir regularly adding more stock as needed.  The barley will soak up a lot of liquid.  If you use up all the stock and the soup looks dry, you can add water; if you have some stock left over, freeze it.  The soup should be thick and hearty, but still soup, not beefy porridge. 

Stir in the reserved beef and mushrooms, and simmer for about 10 minutes more.  Sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve.

Homemade Ricotta

I was flipping through Lynne Rosetto Kaspar’s How to Eat Weekends a few weeks ago (David had bought it for his sister’s birthday and had not yet sent it off), and stumbled upon a recipe for making your own ricotta.  The description sounded so wonderfully simple.  Bring milk and salt to a simmer, add lemon juice, simmer for a few minutes more, until the curds separate from the whey, scoop out the curds into a colander lined with cheesecloth.  It seemed too simple not to try.  So I got some non-homogenized milk from the co-op and a try.  

Here's how it looked after the curds had formed.

And here it is draining.

It was highly satisfying to make this bit of kitchen alchemy happen with such speed and ease.  I may have cooked it a little too long or squeezed out too much liquid, as it was a little more firm and rubbery than I would like it.  Lynne said to rinse the pan with cold water before adding the milk to make the cleanup easier.  I'd hate to see how the cleanup could have been more difficult (I didn't take a picture of that).  

End of Heat Wave Emergency Cookout

Smoked Pork Butt
New Potato Salad (American-Style)
Cucumber Dill Salad
Hummus
Open-Face Fresh Blueberry Pie

Parsley

Parsley. We have TONS of it. After months of buying ratty little bundles for two bucks a pop, we will have as much as we'll ever need for the next three months. That's a 3x5 foot bed of Italian Parsley in front, with sweet and Thai basil behind it, and then a smaller bed of curly parsley, and a gigantic tarragon bush. The big garden is across the field.

In the summer, I use parsley as a vegetable. It is a once strong and mellow, cutting excessive heat, salt, or bitterness and adding a bit of fresh green flavor to just about everything (especially garlic). You can make a good pesto out of parsley, which wonderful with grilled meat and (especially) fish.

While we're enjoying this sudden glut of parsley, we didn't have quite as many peas (shell and sugar snap) as we would have liked. So this orzo side dish was born.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a full boil and stir in 2 cups or so of orzo. When it is almost done, add around a pound of trimmed sugar snap peas. Return to a boil and cook for a minute or two (times are approximate; you have to test it). Drain thoroughly and return to pot with a couple tablespoons of olive oil and lots of finely chopped parsley and mint.