Soupruary 1st: Pappa al Pomodoro

Soupruary is officially here! Or, as Aron's friend allegedly put it, "the worst portmanteau I've ever heard" (Rude! Also: True!).

Bee tee dubs, apologies for the disappointing--in both quality and quantity--photo documentation herein. In a bit of a predictably frazzled start to the month, not only did I convince myself I'd definitely, absolutely, assuredly left a burner on at my apartment (I hadn't), but I definitely, absolutely, assuredly left my camera there.

Location:

Julie hosted us at her ever lovelier (I don't know how she does it) Northside abode.

Attendees:

Ben, Chris, Joshua, Julie, Kenneth, Lauren, MaryKate, Matt, and me. High honors go to Julie, not only for hosting, but for not letting me do any of her dishes after the fact. With friends like that, who needs...ummm...dishwashers? Is that the saying?

Menu:

Zucchini and walnut farfalle salad

Romaine with apple, almonds and cinnamon goat cheese

Very, very garlicky garlic bread (about which Chris exclaimed, "Can garlic burn your mouth?!")

Pappa al pomodoro

Entertainment:

A Projectmill meeting, the antics of Dexter (kitty, not killer), and the discovery that it's an odd feeling to think you're going to have a sip of white wine and end up with a mouthful of sake.

So...

The Soup:

I've been seeing recipes for pappa al pomodoro (sometimes listed "Tuscan tomato and bread soup", but, honestly, that doesn't have nearly the romance) quite often lately and from a wide range of chefs and sources. As I thought about which tomato soup to start the Soupruary year with (since I started that way each of the past two years, and am wont to create pointless traditions), I realized that not only had I never tasted this pappa al pomodoro thing, but I was actively scared of it.

I'm not one of those people who is easily skeeved out by textures in my food. And, when I think about how much I love soggy Rice Chex, it makes no sense that even thinking about soggy bread makes me go a bit green in the gills. I guess it's one of those childhood things.

I have a distinct memory of being treated to some popular Portuguese dish that featured some sort of soupy, meaty stuff over white bread, turning the bread into soupy, meaty mush. Everyone else seemed to love it, and I'm sure it probably was great to them--I was just speaking some other flavor language at the time. I mean, I was only 9 or 10 (a guess; don't make me MATH), and I thought ketchup tasted like fish (ahem, still do). Man...even thinking about that soggy bread, I'm involuntarily distorting my face into a (super-attractive) grimace.

But! I decided to forge ahead with this terrifying, soggy bread experiment. 8 gajillion recipes can't be wrong, right?

2011: The Year of Facing Fears.

Or whatever.

In the end, I must say, there are other fears I'd rather face*. The flavor was outstanding, but I just can't get behind the wet bread thing. Come on, Tuscany; quit being such a bully and let me keep my bread and soup apart until they're in my mouth, cool? Cool.

*Calling for pizza delivery, for example. Or, for that matter, answering the door when the delivery person arrives. These fears seem much more ripe for conquering, not to mention more useful.

Pappa al Pomodoro

adapted from a recipe by Jamie Oliver, after reading about 7 or 8 others

This was to serve 9, and there were leftovers. I'd say half it!

2 lbs grape tomatoes

6 cloves garlic, finely sliced

2 large handfuls fresh basil, leaves picked and stalks finely chopped

extra virgin olive oil

2 28-oz cans San Marzano tomatoes

4 large handfuls stale bread, torn into crouton-sized pieces

Preheat your oven to 350F. Prick the grape tomatoes and toss with two sliced garlic cloves, a quarter of the basil leaves, some olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast on a tray for about 20 minutes.

Splash some olive oil in your soup pot, and heat on medium. Add remaining garlic and basil stalkes, and cook for about one minute. Add canned tomatoes, then fill the cans with water and add. Simmer for about 15 minutes, breaking the tomatoes up with a spatula. Scrape the grape tomatoes (including oil and garlic and basil from the tray) into the pot and stir it up.

Add the torn bread and mix well. Tear the basil leaves into the soup, and cook on low heat for about 10 minutes.

Stir the soup, check for seasoning and texture (add a bit of water if needed), and remove from heat. Drizzle with a few tablespoons of good olive oil, and serve with parmesan, if desired.