Root Soup

Roots. When I was a kid, I wouldn't eat anything that I knew for a fact grew under the ground. That lasted until I was about seven, which was the age that my mother stopped concealing the fact that carrots were roots from me. I loved carrots, and I wasn't willing to give them up for some stand on root-principle. So I adopted the lovely denizens of the underworld into my diet, and I haven't really looked back.

Still, even if I no longer avoid them like cooties, roots somehow lack the glamour of other vegetables in the crisper. They aren't plump and colorful like the peppers, they don't have the snap and chilly crispness of the greens. They're sort of the lowly peasants of the vegetable world, and this fact is reflected in my grocery store's tendency not to stock them. I've had it out with the produce manager over this on several occasions, but he insists that lowly roots don't sell.

Perhaps more people should be introduced to the possibilities of root soup. This is a very basic vegetable soup, and there are actually two different versions: a chunky version wherein I'm too lazy to get out the blender, and a smooth version for which the blender gets a workout. I like both, although I admit that the smooth and creamy version is unbeatable for those dreary winter nights when you just want to curl up with comfort food and maybe watch chick flicks with the cat. On those nights, you don't need glamour; you're not feeling glamorous yourself. No, that's when you need root soup, which is just as lovely and sweet and velvety as can possibly be imagined. It may not be haute cuisine, but these are roots raised above their station in life, and I can't imagine what I was thinking to ever turn up my nose.

Root Soup

I call it Root Soup because it can be made with a variety of different roots. I've tried turnips, celeriac, parsnips, and rutabagas, and they all work fairly well. Turnip is the root that I can get hold of most easily, but celeriac makes a very pretty, pale green color, so I use it if I'm serving guests. I haven't tried it with beets yet, but I bet the color there would be spectacular, so I may try that soon. Anyway, the type of root doesn't really matter. You'll get different flavours with each root, but the basic recipe works for all of them.

3 smallish leeks, chopped. (Don’t be stingy on the leek)
1 small-medium red or yellow onion, roughly diced
2 Tbsp olive oil, plus a little extra optional for finishing
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 1/2 stalk celery, coarsely chopped
3 cloves garlic, sliced
1 1/2 lb roots
1 1/2 qt chicken stock (This is highly variable. The amount of liquid is one of those ‘adjust til it feel right’ matters that I do by instinct. Occasionally, if I have to resort to using non-homemade broths, I’ll add bouillon cubes to my store-bought chicken stock. Sometimes I toss in a beef cube in addition to a chicken cube for fun and variety. Don’t add too much [it’ll get too salty, and that’s gross], but feel free to experiment with the stock taste here.)
Salt
Pepper
Heavy cream
Chopped chives for serving, optional
Creme fraiche for serving, optional

Start by locating a largish soup pot. Over medium heat, add the olive oil and the butter, allow the butter to melt slightly, then add the onion, leek, celery and garlic. Saute those together until the leek has softened, and the onion turns translucent. Taste this mixture, and season it with salt and pepper accordingly.

To the sauteing veggie mix, add the root chunks and the stock. Bring the whole pot to a rolling simmer, then reduce the heat to medium-low (or just low, depending on your particular stove), cover the pot, and simmer for three or so hours. The root chucks should mash easily against the edge of the pot under pressure from the back of a spoon. This is one of those 'mix it and forget it recipes. I usually watch a movie or a football game, or go off and do some gardening or something. It's difficult to overcook most roots, and longer simmering time will just let the soup's flavours blend more. When your root is soft, remove from heat.

At this point, you get choices. If you want the chunky, lazy-man's version, you're done. Check it one more time for salt, then it's good to go. But if you don't mind a few minutes more work, you can convert it to the creamy version easily. Just work in batches and run it through a blender. Fill the blender no more than 1/3 full (Hot soups will explode because of steam when you turn the blender on if you're not careful. It's no fun to clean up, so just work a little more slowly and you'll avoid the mess) and puree the soup until smooth. Add another dash or so of olive oil and 1/4-1/2 cup of heavy cream to the finished pureed soup to really give it the incredible texture that I love. Be a little stingy with the oil here (you don't want oil globules floating on the surface, you just want a little flavour), but the cream is hard to get wrong. Taste, and adjust seasoning as necessary. If the soup's cooled in the blending process, reheat it gently before eating.

I listed chives and creme fraiche as serving options. This is a nice enough soup that I don't feel bad serving it to company as an appetizer, and if I do that I'll add a dollop of creme fraiche to each bowl, and top the whole thing with chopped chives for accent.

Servings: It depends largely on the exact amount of root and the exact amount of stock that you use. This is a forgiving recipe about quantities, so sometimes I'll get six servings, and sometimes ten. Meh. It does average to about eight lunch-sized servings, though, and probably twelve appetizer-servings.