Transitions, changes, reconnecting and Ina: Roast Tomato soup

Now that's a very hefty title there isn't it? Sort of lots of concepts about. Well, Annalena shall elucidate while trying not to stray from her appointed rounds: teaching you a new soup.
Labor Day weekend has come and gone. We are celebrating (if that is the right word. Maybe remembering is better), the 10th anniversary of the attack on the Twin touwers (which Annalena watched from her window, sobbing silently), and there is a definite sense that things are changing.
Much happens in early September. We have our annual trip to Chuck and Kevin's lovely home in Southhampton (the inspiration for this soup), the Guyman goes back to choral rehearsal. Annalena begins casting about to see if there is a class she wants to take. And the market changes. This may very well be the time of year when summer and fall meet, for a few, glorious weeks, and you can have your pick of berries, peaches, pears, plums, apples, cabbage, tomatoes, hard and soft squash, corn, shell beans, and everything you want. It is overwhelming. And you should sit yourself down in it and enjoy it. I am serious about this: take a day off from work and cook, because in three weeks, things will change dramatically, and the summer things you love... will start bidding farewell till next year. Get your fill, but don't ignore the cauliflowers, the broccoli, the cabbages, that are as sweet as they will be. (I will tell you that you can ignore the brussel sprouts). Turnips are back. Beets are back, and so is lettuce. Oh, such a wonderful, wonderful time.

And with Guyman going back to rehearsal, our eating schedule changes. Now it is soup and "something" on Mondays, fish on Tuesdays unless we have company and then it is fish on Wednesdays. So, ragazzi, you will be seeing many soup recipes for the next few months. And some new bread recipes too. Anyone interested in mustard bread? It's good.

So, to the soup. At the home of Kevin and Chuck, they brought forth roasted tomato soup. Chuck had made it. I knew, without asking, if the recipe came from Ina Garten. Chuck loves her recipes, with good reason. And, folks, if you find an author who seems to "get you," and vice versa, stick with them. I feel that way about Martha Rose Schulman, who is the source of the bread recipe you're going to get tomorrow, as well as others.

So, we had the soup, and it was really good. And as I was thinking through what soup to make for the inaugural rehearsal, I went back to it. See, soup making should be as seasonal as your other cooking. There will be plenty of time to make a wonderful chicken noodle soup, one that crosses all seasons. There will be time to make hearty lentil soup, when everything fresh is a thing of the past. For now, let us work on tomatoes, corn, eggplants, peppers. OH, I want to go back into the kitchen and make them all.

Back to Ina Garten. I had the distinct pleasure of meeting her, in Berkeley, at Chez Panisse. One of those chance encounters. We were eating at a table two down from her. She and her husband were having pizza, and somehow, it just seemed right. Her throaty mezzo carried, and I LOVED the sound of it. They declined dessert, but were served cherries and ice cream on the house: desserts from the formal dining room. She insisted on paying. I like that in a person.

So, as they were getting up to leave, I screwed up all my courage, put out my hand and said "Ms Garten, I just couldn't pass up the chance to thank you for your books. I have learned so much and the recipes are wonderful." She smiled and said "Well, if you use my books, my name is Ina, not Ms. Garten." Class. She then asked "so, when you make my recipes, do you change them?" Sheepishly, I added, "sometimes." She reached into her bag, pulled out a notepad and said "tell me your favorites and how you change them." I thought of a few. She took notes. Of one she said "that sounds REALLY good. Give me your name, because if it goes in a book, I want to give you credit." We shook hands, gave European cheek kisses, and off they went.

An encounter to remember. INA I LOVE YOU. And I'm about to change your recipe.

In the past, I have written of how roasting vegetables changes their flavor. Such is the case here, although I would say in a subtle way. The tomatoes maintain their bright flavor, but there is a depth, from the carmelization, that is really appealing.

This is an easy soup to make. It takes a while, but you do very little work. And you get at least six cups out of it. Let's go.

Start with about 4-5 pounds of tomatoes, which isn't really a lot. Try to go for plum tomatoes, and try to use heirlooms. If you are not sure, tell your farmers market vendor you want soup tomatoes. You'll get the meatier ones. When you get home, turn your oven to 400. Then, slice the tomatoes in half, lengthwise, and toss them with a heaping TABLESPOON of salt, and 1/3 cup of extra virgin olive oil. Lay them out on a baking sheet, or more preferably, TWO baking sheets (give them room), cut side down, and roast them for forty five minutes. Your kitchen, and your home, with be overwhelmed with the scent. It is wonderful.

While that is happening, dissolve two tablespoons of unsalted butter in a big pot. Chop up two cups of yellow onions. I had one, massive onion that did the trick. And also chop up six garlic cloves. Also, get yourself a few sprigs of thyme.

Put the butter, aromatics, and thyme into the pot, and stir and cook. Ina suggests browning them, which doesn't appeal to me. Soften them, and when they're done to a soft point, add either a quart of chicken stock (my choice), tomato juice (hers), or water. The tomatoes, when they are ready, come out of the oven and , PROTECTING YOUR HANDS, scrape them into the pot. Add the leaves of half a bunch of basil. Taste. You'll probably need more salt. Then, cook at a simmer, for 45 minutes. Your house will smell wonderful, yet again.

At this point, you could finish, and have a delicious, but not too attractive soup. you could also put it into your food processor, in batches, and chop it up somewhat. I believe that is how we had it. Or, you can put it the food mill, which is what she recommends, and I did, at the coarsest hole. You'll wind up with six cups or so of wonderful soup. (Make sure you scrape the holes of the food mill every now and then. That's where the good stuff is).

You can serve this cold, or hot (the way I like it), and I strongly recommend you put the rest of the basil, chopped, into the soup, just before you serve it.

Now, doesn't this just cry out for a grilled cheese sandwich? Well, yes it does. And that calls for a special bread. Tomorrow, we'll learn how to make Martha Rose Schulman's mustard whole wheat bread, and you will be glad to know how to do this. It may become a mainstay of your bread repertoire.

What? You don't have a bread repertoire. You know that's not going to do...