Gingered Roasted Sweet Potato and Carrot Soup with Brown Butter Shrimp, Macadamia and Blood Orange

My favorite color is orange. The candy that makes me happiest is the classic orange slice, and the combo of orange and chocolate is a one-two punch I’m fully powerless to defend against. I spend a lot of time at Anderson High School these days – school colors: orange and black. As a child I’d make copycat Orange Juliuses (Orange Julii?) in the blender and IMHO the best canned soup of all time is Tesco brand Tomato and Orange soup – an elusive flavor I’ve been chasing for years.

As I lay out the evidence of my deep love for Citrus sinensis on the dining room table of my memory palace, it’s a bit of a mystery as to why I haven’t turned to this ingredient more in my soupsplorations. The only logical explanation: an abiding disdain for all most things Floridian.

Recent quick trips have perhaps opened my eyes to the fact that I actually don’t capital-H Hate Florida (in December, at least). That said, I’m counting this soup as evidence of me bucking against my implicit bias. Using more orange in my cooking is a milestone on my wokeness journey.

Or it just tastes good.

This number really set the stage for a night of opulence and indulgence, by which I mean eating on the couch while watching the Oscars and wearing athleisure.

Fresno chili oil: More-ange.

This soup feels luxurious and decadent but there’s plenty to love from a health perspective, too. Ginger: anti-inflammatory and good for digestion. Sweet potato: has a whole buncha fiber, vitamins and minerals. Carrots: great for attracting for cute widdle bunny wabbits. Shrimp: Lean, low-calorie protein with omega-3s. Blood orange: treat that pesky scurvy you’ve been fighting ever since your stint on that pirate ship back in the 1710s.


Or it just tastes good.

Sweet Potato: Now with patented EZ-Peel technology!

This soup may not have a catchy and concise name, but it is going to be tough to beat this year for Best Flavor. It's the Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) of the 2020 Soupcademy Awards. Last clumsy portmanteau, I promise.

Every bite is equally comment-worthy, but the bites with a bit of toasted macadamia are definitely more equal. It's also going to top every Best Dressed list, obviously. This might be the prettiest thing I've ever made, to the degree that I'm not really sure how it managed to come fully from my imagination. I'm totally fine with crediting the Oscars for the extra creative energy in the air, along with an extra-strength dose of elegance. It may not be as stunning as Natalie Portman's dress was, but Ms. Portman wouldn't look too out of place eating it at an after-party.

*insert photoshopped image that I'm not patient/skilled enough to make*

The good thing about the Dickensian amount of detail I've included in this recipe title is that it really doesn't leave much mystery about taste: it tastes like all those things. Even so, should you decide to make it, you'll be surprised by just how good all those things are when they work together toward the common goal of improving your quality of life for 3-15 minutes (depending on your typical gobblin' time). In other words, teamwork makes the soup of my dreams work. GO TEAM!

Bird's eye view. Now get outta my house, bird!

Gingered Roasted Sweet Potato and Carrot Soup with Brown Butter Shrimp, Macadamia and Blood Orange

Serves four as a starter or two as a meal

1 large sweet potato

2 blood oranges

Extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided

1 shallot, diced

1 tablespoon peeled and chopped fresh ginger

3 cups vegetable broth

4 carrots, peeled and chopped

2 tablespoons macadamia nuts, roughly chopped

¼ lb raw shrimp

Fresh chives

Optional: fresno chili infused olive oil, clementine infused olive oil

Heat oven to 400 F, then throw your sweet potato in there on a piece of aluminum foil just in case it decides to get messy. Let it roast for 45 minutes or so, until you can stick a fork in it easily and it’s nothing but squish inside. Remove from oven and let cool until you can peel the skin away without hurting your fingers.

Cut two thin slices from the center of one of your blood oranges, cut each slice in half, and place them on another small piece of foil. Dab with a bit of olive oil. Place your macadamia nuts on another part of the foil, and place in the oven until orange slices are crispy and nuts are toasty and golden, 8-10 minutes.

Melt 1 tablespoon butter over medium-low heat in your soup pot. Add shallots and ginger, season with salt and pepper, and cook until shallots are translucent and soft, about 7 minutes. If using, add a splash of fresno oil, then add carrots, sweet potato flesh and vegetable broth. Increase the heat to bring the broth to a simmer for about 20 minutes or until carrots are tender.

Meanwhile, heat remaining tablespoon of butter in a small skillet over medium heat. The butter will foam; once the foam subsides, watch it carefully and catch it when it’s starting to brown and smell nutty but hasn’t burned. Toss in your shrimp, season with salt, and let them cook in that brown butter goodness for 90 seconds to 2 minutes on each side, or until cooked through. Remove from heat and chop into bite-sized pieces.

Remove soup from heat and blend with an immersion blender until very smooth. Squeeze all juice from the blood orange you’ve already cut directly into the soup and stir. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Zest half of the remaining blood orange and set zest aside. Remove skin with a knife, exposing the sparkling orange segments. Cut out each segment, then chop into bite-sized pieces.

Toss together shrimp, macadamias and blood orange pieces. Ladle soup into bowls and top each bowl with a spoonful the shrimp salad. Drizzle with clementine olive oil, if using, and garnish with snipped chives and a roasted orange slice. Serve with pride and get excited for magic that’s about to happen in your mouth.

Avocado Broccoli Soup with Kale Chips and Pistachios

As there are for all thirty-smuhuhhhn-year-olds, I assume, there are days when I feel like I've done nothing with my years on earth. Like I wasted too much time not knowing who I was or what I wanted.

But then a friend will be compelled to send me a bit of ephemera related to soup or green vegetables, and I realize maybe I've known who I was and what I wanted all along. And when a friend sends me a recipe that involves soup AND green vegetables, well, darling...

I feel seen.

Valerie sent this recipe my way and made my day - and I knew I wanted to get this into the adorable soup bowls she gave us for our housewarming ASAP (see above adorable evidence). Avocado, broccoli, kale and pistachios? That's four greens, for not much green!

I put my own spin on the recipe by using fresh ingredients instead of frozen and making my own kale chips, but the spirit of it was all there in the original. I mean, mine is also cuter, but I could never mention that and risk hurting Kroger Magazine's feelings. 

And now let's talk turkey Tofurkey: lot's of greens, yes, but was it good? Yes, actually, thanks for asking. The first bite will have you doing a bit of a Thinking Face emoji as you try to figure out exactly what this flavor is and why it's so different. The weird thing: cooked avocado is not the creamy cool situation you're used to paying extra for. It's punchy and tangy and exciting, still silky, but somehow sheds its creaminess. Right after your first bite, though, your mouth will literally start watering and compelling you to the next and the next until you're licking the bowl. There's some sort of autonomic reaction triggered by hot avocado that will put your mouth on a mission for more.

I'm Gertie and I approve this avocado.

Check yourself a little in your soup pursuit (pursoup?) though — apparently hot avocado is not only addictive, it also comes with supernatural heat insulation properties. This puppy gets hot and stays hot; i.e., it's the J-Lo of the produce section. I'm gonna learn how to preserve avocados so I can make them into clothes during the next ice age or whatever. P.s. Shark Tank here I come.

This isn't my first hotvocado rodeo, believe it or not, but it's my first that I'd deem a modest success. Adam went back for seconds, and I now have a really positive sense memory of that tasty tang. It wasn't as popular with the entire household, and may or may not have been referred to as a "vegetarian smoothie" by one unhappy customer — but to that I say a) sounds great and b) where are you getting all of these meat smoothies, young man?

If a vegetarian smoothie is up your alley, too, put this down your gullet. You will get a new taste sensation out of it, and in my book* that's always worth while.

Pro tip: Make extra kale chips. More healthy snacks is a lifestyle and I'm LIVING.

*set to release February 30th of the year twenty-twenty-none.

Avocado Broccoli Soup
serves 4
Adapted from Kroger Magazine
Recipe suggested by my friends Val and Mike

Ingredients

a few splashes of olive oil

½ bunch of curly kale, thick center ribs discarded and leaves torn into ~2-inch pieces

½ cup diced white onion

1 large garlic clove or 2 small, roughly chopped

4 cups vegetable broth

1 lb broccoli, crown chopped into florets and thick stem peeled and chopped

2 ripe avocados

½ cup roughly chopped roasted pistachios (I used the lightly salted variety)

Method

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F and make a half-second splash of olive oil on a large, rimmed baking sheet. Dip your fingers into the olive oil and massage it into each piece of kale, watching the dull dark green turn shiny and brighter. No need to oversaturate – you don’t need an oil slick, just a whisper of a coating. Once all the leaves are feeling good and relaxed, sprinkle with a pinch of sea salt and toss on the baking sheet. 

Separate the leaves into one layer and bake until crispy and starting to brown (you still want mostly green), then remove to a rack to keep crisping as they cool. Our oven is a little wonky, but it took about 9 minutes to get mine where I wanted them.

While the kale chips are in the oven, get started on the soup. Place your soup pot over medium heat and add a healthier splash of olive oil – 1 to 2 second splash this time. When shimmering, add onions and garlic and season with a pinch of salt and a few good grinds of black pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened but not browned – about 5 minutes. 

Add vegetable broth and broccoli and turn the heat up until you get a nice steady simmer. Cook until broccoli is a darkening bright green and just past tender. Take off heat, add avocado and use an immersion blender to puree until smooth.

Serve immediately garnished with kale chips and pistachios, then just wait and see how much you enjoy that second bite.

Bonus bowl!

San Francisco Clam Chowder

What makes this San Francisco clam chowder? Really it's New England style, I suppose - fattening and filling enough to steel you against a bracing Massachusetts February (or San Francisco July). For me, it's always been linked to The City, so much so that apparently I made clam chowder the last time the 49ers were in the Super Bowl and completely forgot until I googled it this morning (facepalm).

I did learn something from my only previous foray with the heart attack of the sea - when I was buying ingredients for this on Friday I stayed far away from the fresh clams. Besides, tinned seafood is really having a moment lately (I'm looking at you, anchovies). Why not give cans a chance? (A cance? Is that something?)

I decided to go the way less fussy route this time around, leaving behind the Thomas Keller recipe and cooking from instinct. My go-to stance of "I like cooking to be difficult" is on hiatus, thanks mostly to the incredibly forceful massage pedicure chair at Top Nails this morning which still seem to be whispering "relax" into the knot behind my left shoulder blade as well as my unquenchable and often misguided appetite for over-complication.

This is where I would typically describe the different elements of taste and texture, but that feels a little overkill in this sitch. You know clam chowder? Cool. This is clam chowder. Not too thick. Appropriately clammy. End of story.

Pre-dairy.

My one complaint was that I trusted an untested sourdough brand to accompany it, and while it was likely made of dough it was NOT, dear reader, anywhere in the vicinity of sour. Quelle horreur, I mean honestly. Feeling a combo of shame and buyer's remorse, I teetered on the brink of not bringing it to the party — Adam even suggested I bring it but make a sign to let everyone know I did not bake it and take no responsibility for people's choices of what they put in their mouths. In the end, I decided to make some long buttery, garlicky crouton dippers, and, okay, fine. Great idea (if I do say so); woulda been better with sourdough.

So here we have it: easy peasy, totally creamy and decadent, fairly faultless clam chowder, made with all the best intentions of sending good luck to whoever is on the 49ers these days. And yes, obviously I assume that's still Jerry Rice and Joe Montana.

Going by the reactions of the party guests last night, the results of my laid-back cookery were irrefutably compliment-worthy. What I'm left questioning, though, is whether I managed to develop my very first Souperstition. Two times making clam chowder and two Super Bowl losses? Not to be weird or dramatic or anything but this is definitely all my fault.

Also noteworthy: I almost cared about the outcome of the game last night on a few occasions. Not nearly as much as I cared about the outcome of the soup, but more vocally. Huh.

San Francisco Clam Chowder
serves 6 (or more in a party situation)

Note: Lots and lots of recipes include bacon or pancetta as the first step: chopping up a few slices, crisping it up and then cooking the onions etc. in the bacon fat. If that sounds good, go for it! I've written the below as pescatarian-friendly (although admittedly not health-conscious in the way that title often implies).

Ingredients

3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 yellow onion, diced
1 stalk celery, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 8 oz. bottle clam juice
3 6.5-oz. cans of chopped clams, strained and juice reserved
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1 fresh bay leaf
2 cups half & half
1 cup cream
2 cups peeled and diced russet potatoes (I used 6 small russets)
Worcestershire sauce to taste (optional)
Your favorite hot sauce to taste (optional)
1 teaspoon chopped fresh parsley

Method

Melt one tablespoon of butter in your soup pot over medium heat; add onions, garlic and celery and season with salt and pepper. Cook until soft but not browned. Add remaining two tablespoons of butter. When melted, sprinkle on two tablespoons flour and stir in, cooking the mixture for another minute or two.

Add bottle of clam juice and reserved clam juice from cans and stir, cooking for a few minutes to allow the mixture to thicken to a creamy consistency. Stir in thyme, bay leaf, half & half, cream and potatoes. Bring to a low simmer (not a boil) and cook until potatoes are nice and tender. Taste the soup for consistency. I wanted mine to be a little thicker, so I pulled out about 1/2 cup of potatoes with a little of the broth and mashed them up, then stirred the mixture back in.

Add clams until heated through; it should really only take a minute or two. Add dashes of Worcestershire and hot sauce to taste - I wanted just enough to make you go "hmmmm, what is that?" but not enough to be able to answer the question.

Remove bay leaf and sprinkle with parsley before serving, and do please serve with legitimate sourdough.

Rose Harissa Tomato Soup with Orzo Salad

The most satisfying food moment of my life thus far shockingly didn't involve soup; in fact, it didn't even involve me eating anything. Adam walked in the door of my condo exhausted after a 10-hour late summer drive from South Carolina, and the words "I made you pasta salad" made tears stream down his sunburned cheeks. He grabbed the nearest utensil (a rather large wooden spoon) and cradled the serving bowl in his arms, and I truly don't believe I'll ever make anyone that happy again. 

Not pictured: tears. But at least in my memory they were real.

That particular pasta salad was quite a nice one, with strozzapreti I brought home from Italy, white nectarines, aged white cheddar, peak-season corn and a mint vinaigrette. But as quite possibly the world's foremost pasta salad devotee, Adam takes all comers, from the bespoke to be-SuddenlySalad. Is there a barbecue? Potluck? Fancy New Year's Eve party? If Adam's invited, so is the pasta salad. Our friend Bryan has even claimed that if you cut Adam he would bleed pasta salad, and he's a real medical doctor! (He's not.)

When it came time to decide (yesterday while wandering Jungle Jim's for two hours) what our first Soupruary night as engaged homeowners would be, it seemed natural to bring our food loves together in one bowl, and to see how long it took for Adam to figure out my plan. Turns out it took pretty much until it was done, but his genuine excitement at the realization was totally worth it. Not post-road-trip level elation, but still pretty cute:

He's very good at this face. 

The flavors in this dish are the result of the revelation that there is someone else like me out there in the world, ladling the soup gospel out one day at a time. For the last three years, a woman named Aidan (whose mom I happen to know) who's been making a different soup every day in January. That's 31 days (so now obviously I'm riddled with shame over the cowardice of choosing February)! I stalked/drooled on her Instagram feed and came across her tomato harissa soup with orzo, which seemed positively destined for the soup/pasta salad treatment. 

I'm pretty delighted with the way this turned out, both texturally and flavorally. The nice thing about cooking with rose harissa is that you can tailor the end result easily to your own spice preferences while resting assured that the layers of deliciousness are there.

And I'd make this same pasta salad on its own, for sure. With brightness from mint and parsley, saltiness from olives and feta, acid from tomatoes and red wine vinegar and crunch from cucumber, it's got pretty much everything you could want. But then I went and added some buttery roasted pine nuts, but not enough for them to be in every single bite, which means your tongue never gets complacent about just how good it has it.  

Oh, also there was soup, obviously. Some whole peeled tomatoes, some grape tomatoes roasted with paprika, shallots, garlic, tomato paste, vegetable broth - all very standard until the last second when the rose harissa goes in. Having that jar is the closest I can get to having a superpower (and yes, I accidentally spelled it souper when I first typed it). It can take a dish from normal to memorable in no time at all, and I'm officially declaring it my favorite condiment (for today; tomorrow it'll probably be like ranch or whatever).

And finally: YAYYYY IT'S SOUPRUARY! IN A LEAP YEAR! LET'S DO THIS THING!

Rose Harissa Tomato Soup with Orzo Salad

serves 4-6

Ingredients

For the Soup

1 cup grape tomatoes, halved lengthwise

1/4 teaspoon paprika

extra virgin olive oil

2 shallots, roughly chopped

1 clove garlic, roughly chopped

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1 28-oz can whole peeled tomatoes

2 cups vegetable broth

rose harissa to taste

For the Orzo Salad

1 cup orzo

1/3 cup peeled and finely diced cucumber

1/3 cup finely diced tomato

1 shallot, finely diced

2 tablespoons chopped black olives

1/3 cup crumbled feta

2 tablespoons toasted pine nuts 

2 teaspoons red wine vinegar

1/4 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley 

2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint

rose harissa to taste

Method

Heat oven to 400 degrees F, and toss grape tomatoes with a bit of olive oil, salt and pepper on a rimmed baking sheet. Sprinkle with paprika and toss in the oven for about 20 minutes, or until nicely roasted with pretty coloration. Reserve the four prettiest halves to garnish your soup, and set the rest aside. If you need to toast your pine nuts, add them to the tray for the last 6 minutes of roasting the tomatoes. Don't wash your baking sheet yet - it's got lots of good flavor on it that you don't want to waste!

While the tomatoes are roasting, bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Add orzo and cook according to package directions, then drain. Spread the drained pasta on the baking sheet from the tomatoes to dry out a bit, and soak up the remaining olive oil, spices, and tomato juices.

In a large bowl, mix together the rest of the pasta salad ingredients minus the harissa. Once cool, add the orzo and mix. Add rose harissa to taste - I used about a tablespoon here because I wanted to feel it but not spice my family out. Obviously, you should add salt and pepper here if you feel like it needs it, but there's a lot going on so you may not!

Set that aside at room temperature while you make the soup. Pour a glug of olive oil into your pot set over medium heat. Add shallots and garlic, a pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper. Cook until shallots are translucent but not browned, then stir in tomato paste, cooking for an additional minute. 

Add canned tomatoes (don't drain them), breaking them up with your fingers as you go. Add the remaining roasted tomatoes (not the ones you set aside) along with the vegetable broth. Let this simmer for 20 minutes or so, then blend with an immersion blender until very smooth. Stir in rose harissa to taste - I used about two tablespoons. 

To serve, place a scoop of pasta salad in the center of each bowl, then pour soup around it. Garnish with reserved roasted tomatoes and additional feta if desired. 

Roasted Cauliflower Tortilla Soup

And now for a soup that under-promises and over-delivers:

Just look at all those colors and textures! This is one of those meals that epitomizes the ol' "you eat with your eyes" saying - and the proof is in the pudding soup.

But before we get to that, a brief overview of my journey to this particular recipe.

Our tale begins circa 1993, in Los Banos, California. I'm 10 years old, my best friend is named Kelly, and we cannot get enough of Saved by The Bell. Kelly always gets to "be" Kelly Kapowski, due to the powerful combination of airtight preteen logic ("but it's already my name") and the fact that I'd rather die than deprive a friend of something she wanted, no matter how imaginary. So I'm relegated to the world of Jessie Spano and Lisa Turtle: Always the babesmaid, never the babe.

Cut to: A similar year in Anderson Township, Ohio. A young Adam (boyfriend extraordinaire, who I am to meet a good 25 years later) is learning his first lessons in true love, also at the pastel manicured hands of one Kelly Kapowski. Part of me wants to believe he's over her in the Year of Our Lord 2019, but he does still wear multiple items of SBTB fan clothing sooooooo

I mean can you blame him?

Cut to: A few weeks ago, I'm exploring the Booksellers at Fountain Square, and whaddya know? Ms. Kapowski wrote a cookbook. I buy it as a lure to get Adam to cook with me, not that I need one; he's a willing and capable partner in the kitchen, and not just because he always knows exactly how many dance breaks are needed per recipe (and remembers to put the knife down first). If I'm being overly honest, because this is not the generous spirit I try to maintain, I mainly buy the book as a bit of a joke.

And the denouement: I read through the book, my eyebrows raising higher and higher with each wholly appealing recipe (peas! kale! caramelized banana chocolate chip bread!) and finally realize: the real Kelly Kapowski has been inside me all along.

Hey, boo.

So I decided on a tortilla soup that looked light and lovely, and set to work procuring the ingredients. Already looking great, right?

Fresh and bright, crunchy and creamy, plus mostly red and green AKA the best color combination of all time #christmasforever. Tiffani Thiessen and I were clearly vibing so hard on this recipe, and you can tell I mean it because I used her real name. But then I started cooking, and immediately noticed something weird. This tortilla soup called for some spices (cumin, coriander, chili powder), but by "some" I mean 1.5 teaspoons total. Girl, what? There are two finely chopped jalapenos, too, but I was incredulous that would provide the tongue-tickling I'm looking for in a tortilla soup. In other words, my inner monologue turned immediately to "Exactly what kind of white nonsense is this?"

And if you could please explain this while you're at it.

But hey, I'm dedicated to the conceit of this season of Soupruary, so I was going to give it a go. I was already changing up the recipe to make it vegetarian, and didn't want to go too far afield. As the soup started to come together, though, my faith in Tiffani continued to wane, until my ego had me thinking "Alright, Kapowski, I may never rival your scrunchie collection or straight-up slay in a crop top, but at least I can craft a better soup recipe than you." She lost her real-name privileges real quick, honey.

By the end, I was downright dejected. The soup still tasted boring, and a boring soup stabs me right in the heart with every somniferous bite (I know, my life is so hard). Let this be a lesson: Sometimes it's not about the journey, it's about finishing strong. In the end, this was so much more than it had promised to be thanks to two clutch players swooping in to save the day:

Lime juice and cilantro gave this broth the jolt of life it needed. I'm trying to write something about the usefulness of acid and herbs that doesn't sound like a Timothy Leary quote, but you're just going to have to try it yourself to understand just how much they can alter your soup reality. Add in toppings of freshly toasted corn tortilla strips, paper thin radish and jalapeno slices, avocado and cotija, and even if the Super Bowl had been more watchable you'd still be giving all your attention to this super bowl.

One more thing: I vegged up this originally chicken-based recipe by using vegetable broth and replacing the pulled chicken with cauliflower that I roasted with cumin, chili powder and red pepper flakes. The roasted cauliflower was Adam's idea, actually - a stroke of brilliance he apparently had while sleepwalking, as he has no recollection of it. We should all be so lucky!

It was a roller coaster with Tiffani, yes. But after slurping up every last drop of my soup like it was a milkshake at The Max, I'm looking forward to the next time I Pull up a Chair.

Roasted Cauliflower Tortilla Soup

Adapted from Pull up a Chair by Tiffani Thiessen

Serves 3 or 4

Ingredients

for the cauliflower:
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1/2 head of cauliflower
a generous pinch each of cumin, chili powder and crushed red pepper flakes

for the soup:
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 cup finely sliced green onions (about one standard bunch)
2 fresh jalapenos, seeded and minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
3 cups vegetable broth
2 Roma tomatoes, diced
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
juice of two limes (3 to 4 tablespoons)
1/4 cup chopped cilantro

for the toppings:
avocado, sliced
radishes, thinly sliced
fresh jalapeno, thinly sliced
cilantro leaves
cotija cheese, crumbled
8 corn tortillas
2 tablespoons avocado oil (or olive oil if you'd rather, nbd)
kosher salt

Method

Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Chop cauliflower into bite-sized florets and transfer to a bowl, tossing with 1 tablespoon olive oil and the chili powder, cumin and red pepper flakes, plus some salt and ground black pepper. Plop it onto a rimmed baking sheet, and throw it in the oven for 20-25 minutes, until tender and browning in spots. Remove from oven, leaving oven on for tortilla strips.

While cauliflower roasts, heat 2 tablespoons oil in your soup pot over medium. Add the green onions and jalapenos, stirring occasionally, and cook for about 2 minutes. Add garlic, cumin, coriander and chili powder, and cook while stirring for another minute. Add broth and tomatoes, bring to a boil, cover and turn down to low. When cauliflower is done in the oven, transfer it to the pot.

Meanwhile, prepare your tortillas. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper, then slice the stack of corn tortillas into 1/2" strips. Place them in a bowl and toss with the avocado oil along with a big pinch of kosher salt. Transfer to the lined baking sheet, and cook at 400 for about 10 minutes, until crisp and golden.

Just before serving, stir the lime juice and cilantro into the soup. Serve topped with avocado, jalapeno, radish, cilantro, cotija and a big pile of crispy tortilla - and maybe a few more strips in a bowl on the side for extra snacking opportunities. 

Butternut Squash Soup

Butternut? More like you butternot sleep on this creamy bowl of deep, multifaceted comfort!

I really need to start taking better photos. This deserves better.

My friend Amanda texted me earlier today as I was on my couch reading this recipe. Her message?

I can confirm it is a freaking experience.

WHOA. Sent at the very moment I was staring down butternut squash soup ingredients? That's the kind of sign from the universe we all need every now and then to confirm our busy lives are zooming down exactly the right road. Of course, when all roads lead to soup, you're always on the right road. 

That said, when I recovered from my text-message-prompted existential awakening and got into the kitchen, I wasn't wildly pumped to be making a butternut squash soup. I mean, is there a single restaurant left in America without a butternut squash soup on its menu? 

I assume this dance is proof it's on the McDonald's menu.

And, follow-up: With butternut squash soup as ubiquitous as kale salad* at this point, what could convince me to make one myself? Particularly given the fact that we were having guests over, who more than likely would have an internal gastronomical Rolodex of the kerblillion (exact number) other versions they've encountered?

Chrissy Teigen, that's what. I'm way late boarding the Teigen train, but to be honest I never particularly considered buying a ticket before. She seemed fine and all, and I'd heard good things, but I hadn't paid enough attention to know I was genuinely missing out. Within a few pages of reading her book I realized I done messed up. She has a vivacious, fun, cheeky voice that belies her stupid-dumb-hotness, and within a paragraph I was convinced that she not only could be living one of the most lifey lives of all time but she also just knows what tastes good. Game: Teigen.

No penalty for excessive celebration.

And like that perfect ponytail, this recipe is a simple thing done well. With a handful of ingredients, it does what I love in a one-veg soup: It makes the butternut squash even squashier with little more than fire and good intentions. Sure, it takes a bit of extra care to prep the squash in batches, and extra patience to not stir it as it develops its caramelized crust, but that extra care delivers a delicate depth of flavor. It takes a watchful eye to fry sage leaves just enough to be crispy-crackly but not burnt. But if you do it, you get the bonus byproduct of an earthy green olive oil to take to the table, an apt accompaniment for hearty bread. This soup may not be wildly imaginative or new, but the method treats each ingredient as precious - more than anything, that's what comes through in the taste.

So pretty they almost sparkle!

To sum up: I could roll around in this soup like Chrissy Teigen on a swimsuit shoot.

But soup instead of, uh, pennies? What's happening?

Who knows, rolling in it might even do good things for your skin! Another selling point for me is that this soup is easily adapted to your alimentary needs. I tasted it before adding cream and it was a delectable vegan soup, and it tastes great as a lacto-veg soup, which it will remain if you don't add the crispy prosciutto on top for your omnivore guests. Three in one!

Side note: Always taste as you go, even if your dishwasher decides to conveniently quit working this week and that means hand-washing more spoons. Just me?

Still vegan at this point.

If I revisit this one in the future, I'll likely add some heat to it because that's my typical taste, and forgo the cream because vanity duh.

By the time we sat down to dinner, I was so bought in on Chrissy Teigen that we decided John Legend would be the soundtrack to our meal. And, as delusional as this sounds, her writing has me so convinced of her personality that I think she'd actually be stoked to have one more person in her camp. And what a charming camp it is.

Omg, Chrissy, you're just too humble!

*Yes, we served the soup with kale salad. 

Butternut Squash Soup 

From Cravings by Chrissy Teigen

Serves at least 6

Ingredients

3 1/2 pounds butternut squash, peeled and seeded, chopped into 1-inch cubes

5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (plus more if you want to make the fried sage)

1 tablespoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon ground black pepper

4 cups vegetable broth

3 or 4 sprigs of fresh sage

1 yellow onion, diced

1 tablespoon minced garlic

3/4 cup heavy cream

Method

Place cubed squash in a large bowl and toss with salt, pepper, and 1 tablespoon olive oil.

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in your soup pot over medium-high, then add half the seasoned squash and spread it out in one layer so each piece has a chance to caramelize. Cook for 7 minutes without disturbing, then give it a good stir and cook 5 more minutes. Transfer first batch to a bowl and repeat with second half of squash.

While the second batch is browning, finely chop four sage leaves. When second batch of squash is done, add sage, onion and garlic to the pot, stirring to scrape up the crispy browned pieces stuck to the bottom. Cook until onions are starting to brown, stirring occasionally. 

Add broth and first batch of squash to the pot, making sure to scrape the bottom again, then increase heat to bring it up to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and let it cook at not-too-gentle simmer until the squash is totally starting to have a breakdown - about 25 minutes. 

In a small skillet over medium-high, heat about 1/4 cup of olive oil. Add a few large sage leaves at a time - they'll sizzle and bubble immediately. As soon as they stop bubbling, remove them from the oil. For me, this was less than 10 seconds. Let them drain on paper towels. Chrissy recommends two sage leaves per bowl, but I kept adding sage to mine - I say make as many as you'd like.

Once the squash has begun its fundamental corporeal crisis, blend it until smooth. I used my trusty immersion blender, but you can also work in batches and use a standard blender. 

Chrissy tops hers with more cream, plus the fried sage and crispy prosciutto (see below), but I decided to make one healthy decision yesterday and not add more cream to my version. 

JK I totally meant to and forgot. Let me know if it makes a taste difference - it almost certainly would have been prettier with that swirl o' white.

Optional Omnivore Topping

A few strips of prosciutto, crisped on a parchment-lined baking sheet at 400 degrees for 11 minutes.

P.s. Typing "squash" that much kept making me think "Sasquatch," which of course led to "Sasquash," which obviously I had to google and double-obvs the internet provided me with a lot to think about. First to ponder: whether to buy this shirt:

Credit here

Curried Lentil, Tomato and Coconut Soup

More ginger per cubic inch than Geri Halliwell!

This powerfully spiced vegan beauty was the perfect start to Soupruary's 10th anniversary. See, it's been a little cold here in Cincinnati this week. I know intellectually that there are colder places on earth, but if you had told me that on Thursday I would have tried really hard to roll my eyes at you, and fully failed because my eye-juice was too frozen. The wind chill was some super negative number, and I'm like "Dude! Wind! Chill! I'm out here tryna stay positive!"

If I've said it once I've said it 138 times: for me, all weather is soup weather. But this is textbook other-people's-soup-weather. This is next level. This is soup weather goals. This is please-god-warm-me-from-the-inside-so-I-can-find-the-will-to-live-again kind of soup weather. And for that, you don't just need soup, you need spicy soup. 

This one gets its kick from a high-quality curry powder (I get mine at Dean's at Findlay Market), way more than your typical pinch of crushed red pepper, and a full quarter cup of finely chopped fresh ginger.

I'm definitely going to turn to this recipe next time I feel a deficit in the wellness department. There's nothing like an aggressive jolt of ginger to knock out anything trying to curtail your general productivity.

Actual footage of this soup in action. 

If you're braced to get metaphorically zapped in the mouth by whatever that weapon Geri's using is (uhhh, giant projectile laser syringe?), feel free to ratchet down the spices - this is still going to be delicious. And that, my friend, is due to two perfect ingredients. What are they? 

LOL JK no secrets in soup

Ingredient number 1: Just the right amount of coconut stirred into the soup as it cooks means you've got a light creaminess throughout, particularly with the way red lentils tend to lose their integrity and melt into the soup. A drizzle of cold, thick coconut milk on top just before you eat it balances out the spice and feels lusciously decadent (which is most of why I come to the table). 

But come on, we all know about coconut milk here.

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW

Ingredient number 2: The reason this recipe intrigued me in the first place was the large quantity of cilantro stems. Gasp! Did she say cilantro STEMS? Those things that go in the garbage? Yes! That very garbage is actually full of flavor (tastes like vanilla! ok I lied it tastes like cilantro) and has a lovely, tender texture when cooked - for me it really set this soup apart. Now to decide what to do with all these cilantro leaves. Hey, new rule, leaves: you're the garbage now! 

Ok I lied again, food waste is wrong. 

Here's the truth: This soup is satisfying, hearty, memorable, healthy, budget-friendly and simple enough to cook up on a weeknight after a long day at work. So, go for it! Eating this soup feels like reading a self-help book (one of the good ones! maybe even a Brené Brown!). And let's face it: if you're reading this, you're probably in your thirties too so reading self-help books is officially your second job. And when I say "reading" I obviously mean half-listening on Audible while you attempt to get your life in order.

But I digress. Let's set the Soupruary 2019 stage. Over the last decade, I've grown my cookbook shelf by leaps and bounds. For my birthday each year, I pull all those titles that have been waiting in my Amazon cart and go on a little shopping spree. I then do my best Ron-Howard-in-the-Music-Man impression for two days until my package arrives. I rip it open, go directly to the couch, and gleefully read every page while salivating like a whole family of rabid raccoons. I then put them on my shelf never to attempt a single recipe.

This injustice ends today! This year, with a few exceptions most likely because nobody's perfect, I'll attempt to splash broth on each and every one of these lovingly collected and stupidly neglected tomes.  I can't wait to see where it'll take me and what new habits I might form.

I started with one of my newer acquisitions: Ottolenghi Simple. Yotam has yet to let me down with his other books, and this lived up to his hype as a true vegetablista (did I just make that up? It's truly terrible).

 It's like fashionista but for vegetables, get it? You get it.

NB: To accompany, I made the cauliflower tabbouleh from this book (dill, mint, parsley, scallions, allspice, lemons, pomegranate seeds, pistachio, and love), and it was a hit. Book review: Very yes!

Our friends Kristin and John brought some gorgeous homemade bread to the table, and we dined and laughed,  then went to see Trevor Noah perform (laughed some more), then went to the Bay Horse Cafe where we told stories and "played" soap opera trivia (laughed the most). So, IMHO, this recipe passed the most important test: laying the foundation for a night of real connection with some of your favorite people.

Oh, also:

I wore my best turtleneck and clicked my heels together three times while chuckling out warmly self-effacing one-liners, but for some reason that didn't make my kitchen turn into Diane Keaton's from Something's Gotta give. I'll make do.

Recipe time!

Curried Lentil, Tomato and Coconut Soup

From Ottolenghi Simple
Serves 4 or 5

Ingredients

2 tablespoons coconut oil
1 yellow onion, diced
1 tablespoon curry powder (more or less to taste)
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (ditto)
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1/4 cup minced fresh ginger (peel it first!)
3/4 cup red lentils
1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes
1 1/4 cups chopped cilantro stems (from about 1 1/2 bunches) plus a few leaves for garnish
2 1/2 cups water
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 13.5 oz can full-fat coconut milk

Method

Heat the coconut oil in your soup pot over medium-high. Add the onion and stir until it's soft and brown - the sign you've got some good caramelization going (about 8 minutes).

Add the curry powder, pepper flakes, garlic and ginger, and stir for 2 more minutes.

Add the lentils, tomatoes (with their liquid), cilantro stems, water, salt and pepper and bring to a boil, then decrease heat to medium.

When you open the can of coconut milk, it will likely be separated into the thick creamy part and the thin translucent part. It's important that these 2 become 1(last Spice Girls reference, I promise), so you'll dump it all into a bowl and then stir it up until you have one smooth, creamy liquid. Save 1/4 cup for topping your soup, and then add the rest to the simmering pot.

Simmer for 25 minutes, then serve topped with coconut milk and cilantro leaves.