You never know: jerusalem artichoke soup

One of the most interesting aspects of cooking for people, at least for me, is that you never know how your food is going to "go over." You go into the kitchen with a preconceived notion of how your dishes are going to turn out, and what their popularity is going to be. Sometimes, you're right. And sometimes, you are dead wrong.

Years ago, this happened to me when I made two versions of my "val d'aostana" dish. I made it how I learned to make it, with veal, and I made it with chicken. My motivation was very simple: I didn't want to spend the money to make the veal dish for twelve people. But I DID make enough for six.

The veal came back, nearly uneaten. Meanwhile, there were people scraping the corners of the serving dish on the chicken variation. I would NOT have predicted that. Now, while I might make the veal dish for us at home, when I serve it at parties, I always serve the chicken.

This past Sunday, we had our monthly dinner party. The menu included toasts with chickpea spread and homemade Tomato jam, as well as an Alsatian tart of onions and caviar. Then we had jerusalem artichoke soup with black truffle puree, followed by short ribs cooked in ancho chili and coffee puree (you'll find that recipe below), with polenta and escarole. We had a big salad, cheese, and then two desserts: a sorbet bombe of blood orange, passion fruit, and kiwi sorbets, and an apple cake with banana sorbet.

Ok, look at that menu and think for a minute: what is THE ONE dish that everyone is talking about. Think hard. Ready?

The soup. Yup. I am literally getting cards and letters talking to me about the soup. Now, I love soup. I don't think of soupmaking as an easy task, but I think of it more as the dish that people use to "sit into" the dinner. In other words, soup is "easy." It sets you up for the rest of the meal, when the "good stuff" is coming. For this party, however, it sure seems that the soup was "the good stuff. " I am very serious when I say that I could have put out bowls of that soup with bread and ended the meal right there, and people would have gone home smiling.

You never know.

Well, this being the case, I am giving you the soup recipe. It takes a bit of time. Perhaps the most time consuming aspect is finding the ingredients. Get thee to a farmers market. You'll find it easily.

You need 2.5-3 pounds of Jerusalem artichokes. These come in two shapes: one variety is long and thin. That's the one you will try to get. The other is real funny looking, sort of like a geometric puzzle. You can use these, but you're going to have to peel them, and unless you like getting your peeler into nooks and crannies, go for the longer ones.

Wash them and then use your parer to get the skin off. While you're doing this, have your oven preheating to 450. You need that heat for these babies. When they're peeled, dump them into a bowl with a few glugs of olive oil and some salt. Get your hands in there and turn everything until they're all covered with the oil and salt. Then lay them out on a baking sheet and get them into the oven. Plan on at least fifteen minutes, maybe longer.

While they roast, make your mirepoix (I am slowly beginning to love that word). Celery seems to work really well with jerusalem artichokes, so go heavy on that. I would say use two parts celery to each part of carrots and onions. I chop it all up nice and fine in the food processor, pulsing it. When it's pulsed to a fine point, put it into a big soup pot with a few more tablespoons of olive oil. Don't start cooking yet. Check your jerusalem artichokes by sticking a fork in them. You want them soft. Softer, perhaps, than a baked potato. Almost falling apart. They will brown and toast as this happens. Cover your hand with a mitt, and shake the pan a bit too, to make sure they don't stick. When they're soft , get them out of the oven (the longer ones will take less time than the crenulated ones. DOn't you like that word? Look it up).

Now, saute your mirepoix in the oil, with some more salt - just a little - until the liquid starts being released. Don't use too high a heat, you're not looking to brown the stuff, just soften it. When you hear the hard sizzle start softening, scrape the jerusalem artichokes into the pot, and then add broth. I started with a quart, and when I was done, I added a total of a quart of broth, and two cups of water. Just let this simmer away for maybe fifteen minutes. Taste for seasoning.

When you've done this, you should either let the whole pot cool down, or proceed to pureeing, using VERY small quantities. Pureeing hot soup is dangerous. Use a blender, and pulse it, pouring the pureed liquid off as you do it. You will have something that is sort of creamy brown in color (again, I thought the color would dissuade people from finding it tasty. My friends surprise me all the time. They do NOT eat with their eyes).

You are pretty much done with your soup at this time. I added a tablespoon of black truffle paste to each portion of a cup of soup, but the standard garnish, is a chopped artichoke heart. Use that if you like , or add a small bit of heavy cream or sour cream or something like that.

This was such a success that people may start calling me "signore Girasole, " which isn't a bad thing, except one of my buds is my sunflower. So, just make the soup, share it, enjoy it.

And remember "C'est la vie, say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell."

And that's the extra credit question for today: what song does that come from and who recorded it?