The long slow hug of soup

Chunky or smooth? Smooth or chunky?

Most of the time the texture of my soup depends on how much I can be bothered. The vegetables are never chopped into any kind of uniformity and even if blitzed the soup still retains a rogue lump here and there.

I am convinced that it doesn’t matter about a soup’s texture, so much as its taste. Life’s too short for being soup-obsessive compulsive.

Last week I found a sachet of Heinz minestrone lurking in the back of the food cupboard and in a fit of nostalgia, I fired up the kettle and set about the laborious task of making said soup in a mug.

Boiling water poured and powdered ingredients stirred, I let it cool for about a minute before sipping. It was decidedly… meh and even with an added pinch of salt and latterly a squirt of sriracha, it wasn’t as good as my rose-tinted taste-buds would have had me believe.

The next day – coincidences abound – I then discovered a tin of tomato soup in the same food cupboard. “This is bound to be better,” I told myself. A speedy soup lunch was required and so the tin was de-robed and into a saucepan it went.

Three minutes later I was blowing away the steam and feeling once again… meh. Even the salt and sriracha cavalry failed to save the day.

“No more processed soup for you, boy,” a voice said. “Stop being so ruddy lazy, get off your fat bottom and make some real soup.”

The voice was mine and I wasn’t pleased at the two meh-soup failures.

The next day, in a bid to save the concept of soup forever, I went on a mission.

I needed to remember that soup could be delicious and satisfying and good for the soul, instead of… meh. Potato and leek soup from scratch was the order of the day and with a quick home-made stock to boot.

The result was glorious and helped along all the more due to some home-made soda bread and real butter – which was the only thing I didn’t make, come to think of it. Remember making butter as kids with the creamy bits from the top of a couple of bottles of milk?

Ah, those were the days, or so my rose-tinted taste-buds would have me believe.

Potato and leek soup ticks all the boxes for me: It’s wholesome, hearty, quick and easy and it’s a whole meal in itself, with or without the soda bread and butter (although these are highly recommended).

As the (even) colder weather blows in as we inadvertently slip into autumn, this is the stuff you’ll want to come home to of a Monday evening when circumstances demand a long, slow hug.

As I mentioned too, this recipe comes with a quick cheat-y chicken stock but if you can’t be bothered, any stock will do, excepting perhaps fish stock – unless of course you’re feel a bit wacky.

As you’ll see too, this soup is best made when you’re cooking a chicken.

INGREDIENTS (SERVES FOUR)

1 medium chicken
dash of olive oil
pinch of salt and pepper
small glass of water
1 and a half litres of boiled water
2 or 3 big leeks, chopped however you like
4 or 5 big floury potatoes like Kerr’s Pinks peeled and chopped however you like
1 carrot, chopped however you like
1 stick of celery (chopped and also optional)
sprig of rosemary
pinch of dried thyme
yet more salt and pepper
single cream and chopped parsley to serve (also optional)

THE PLAN

Stick the chicken in a large roasting tin or pot, preferably a cast iron one with a lid. Drizzle on some olive oil and season with salt and pepper.

Pour in the small glass of water (this helps steam the meat through and will also help with the stock), stick the lid on and roast for one hour without looking in. After the hour, remove the lid and let it go for another half hour or so, until it’s cooked through and the juices run clear. I’m sure you know the drill with this.

When cooked, remove the chicken to a plate and set aside. If you’re like me you’ll also eat most of the chicken skin at this stage when it’s nice and crispy. Delightful!

The bottom of the roasting tin or pot should have all the juices from the chicken still in there, with knobbly bits crusted and stuck and this is exactly what you want.

This is what’s gonna make the stock. If it looks like there’s too much fat in there, pour some of it off and then stick the pot on a medium heat and dump in all the veg, excepting the parsley.

Stir around for a minute or two, scraping the congealed knobbly bits with a wooden spoon and then add the litre and a half of water, perhaps even a little more to cover all the veg. Scrape some more to make sure the crusty bits are freed from the bottom and then reduce to a simmer.

Add in the rosemary and the pinch of dried thyme and let it bubble away until the veg are all cooked through – probably about half an hour.

If you’re feeling particularly energetic, you could also dismantle the chicken at this stage for later consumption.

Or if you’re feeling particularly hungry you might also knock up a few chicken sandwiches or toasties to go with the soup instead of the wheaten bread. But honestly, I don’t think this soup needs them.

When all the veg is cooked through, check the seasoning; it’ll likely need a decent pinch of salt and I usually bombard it with loads of black pepper.

Smooth or chunky? Chunky or smooth? I’ll leave that up to you.

Decision made, top with the cream and chopped parsley (or don’t) and then tuck in.

And remember the golden rule when it comes to butter application for the accompanying bread: There’s only enough on if you can see your teeth marks in the first bite.

A long, slow hug.