Sassy Radish

Porcini Barley Soup

As soon as colder weather hits, my thoughts turn to comfort foods. Foods that are warm and liquid that make me feel all cozy inside. And what can be more comforting on a cold winter day than a bowl of soup? Mushroom soup to be precise.

I’ve made this soup every Thanksgiving for the last three years. I also tend to make in in the colder fall and winter months. It’s intensely flavored, fragrant and filling soup. People have been known to get seconds and some – thirds. When I was a little girl, it was one of the few things I would always have the appetite to eat. My mother served it to me with a thick slice of black, Russian bread with butter.

This is an old family recipe. I’ve elaborated on it by substituting some shallots for some of the onions. I think it deepens and complements the flavor of the mushrooms and gives the soup a deeper, more complex flavor. My mother, ever so reluctant to have the family recipe altered, agreed with me after tasting my version.

I insist on using only porcini mushrooms for this soup, otherwise the flavor is just not the same. You can find dried porcini mushrooms in specialty stores, or order them online – their dry state does not weaken their flavor. I’ve not encountered fresh ones in the United States, however, back in Russia where I grew up, we feasted on the fresh ones in the summer and fall.

Porcini mushrooms are distinctly flavored with a deep earthy, nutty, almost meaty flavor. It is my absolute favorite mushroom (other than a chanterelle, which gets second place in my book) and can be used to create an absolutely incredible sauce to mashed potatoes. Barley and potatoes add texture to the soup, so don’t skip them. You want stuff in your soup – stuff is very important, and fewer things make a meal more comforting than potatoes.

Continue reading porcini barley soup.

As if it had read my mind, the New York Times’ Dining & Wine section prominently features an article on the langoustine. I’ve been meaning to write on them – I’ve had a craving as of late. However, the intrepid food writers at the NYT beat me to the punch. Figures. They, unlike ahem, say, me, get paid to write about food. I just have stolen moments.

Looking like little lobsters, langoustines have a pristeen and delicate taste, far superior to the flavor of their larger cousin. The meat is more delicate, balanced. Though hardly of noble existence, langoustines, as well as lobsters, and other who’s who on the fruits de mer platter, scavengers that they are, langoustines are a delicacy, appearing at high-end restaurants for a memorable price.

Its delicate flavor yielding itself to many a dish, I agree with Mr. Apple in that the flavors of langoustines are best displayed in their most simple preparations. But while Mr. Apple suggests that you add some hot sauce or mayonnaise to a heaping pot of freshly-boiled langoustines, I raise his suggestion and give you an even simpler one.

A few pointers, I think that oil or butter messes with the fine tasting notes of langoustines. Which is why I don’t recommend a condiment. You wouldn’t ruin a good oyster with any mignonette, why would you mess with the most naturally delicious meat?

While most people will give you wine pairings, I’ll suggest that you forgo wine here altogether. In fact, to better taste the sweetness of langoustines, you should pair it with a light beer. A Sapporo goes perfectly with the flavors.

If, however, you find yourself somewhere in France, say, La Rochelle, for example, be sure to order yourself the biggest platter of fruits de mer the menu offers – and taste the freshest, most delicious seafood ever.