A long time ago, I went out to lunch in Poulsbo, WA with my
mother and sister. I don’t know why we
went to lunch- perhaps it was after church or my mother’s exercise class or
after a round of painting at Dancing Brush- it doesn’t matter, just that we
went. I was 12(? Or 13? 14? Or younger?
Certainly not older). It was at one of
those little cafes on Front Street, the kind that displays their daily specials
on a folded sidewalk sign, two walkways to the left of Mor Mor Bistro. I don’t remember the name, or never knew it,
and it’s one of those restaurant spots that was constantly changing
anyways. None of this matters except for
what I ordered; I ordered soup.
Not just any soup- Potato Leek Soup. At this point, whichever point it was, my love for potatoes was already well established. Leeks though? I’m fairly sure I didn’t even know what a leek was, let alone why it would be with potatoes in soup. I’m sure I knew I liked other kinds of potato soup, most likely the baked potato kind, but I ordered it anyways. Or, probably had my mother order it for me.
Not just any soup- Potato Leek Soup. At this point, whichever point it was, my love for potatoes was already well established. Leeks though? I’m fairly sure I didn’t even know what a leek was, let alone why it would be with potatoes in soup. I’m sure I knew I liked other kinds of potato soup, most likely the baked potato kind, but I ordered it anyways. Or, probably had my mother order it for me.
This soup, this soup was magical. I have no memory of whether this soup was chunky or smooth, or topped with anything special. What I do remember is the flavor. I had never tasted anything like this soup. It was creamy and potato-y and something else (obviously leek-y but I didn’t know what leeks were, remember?) and elevated potato soup to an art form. Honestly, this is one of the first times I can ever remember wanting to know more about food. Why did it taste like that? Why didn’t other potato soups taste as good? And what was a leek for goodness sakes?
Food is one of the great ways of triggering memories. For instance, I can remember exactly how the best pizza I ever had in my life tasted- a thin crust potato pizza topped with gooey cheese and olive oil in the Jewish ghetto of Rome when I was 17 because I had never even seen potatoes (potatoes!) as a pizza topping before and knew I had to try it (and finish every last bite of it). I can also remember exactly how the Quattro Formaggi pizza I got in Florence tasted a few weeks later because I ordered it before I remembered how much I dislike gorgonzola and didn’t finish the whole thing. (It tasted like feet.)
But soup, guys,
I’m getting off topic from soup.
I’ve always wanted to taste more of this soup. Obviously that’s not possible, until I (a)
invent a time machine, (b) figure out when I ate this soup, and (c) go back in
time and eat this soup again. But none
of that matters, because guys, I made
this soup.
Well obviously I didn’t make that exact soup, but I made one that tastes like my memory. And that is magical.
Well obviously I didn’t make that exact soup, but I made one that tastes like my memory. And that is magical.
Potato Leek Soup
Adapted from remedial eating and Mastering the Art of French Cooking
Obviously I spend a lot of time reading food blogs. They’re cheaper (aka free) than cookbooks and
food magazines (not that I don’t read those too) but most importantly, they
publish new recipes more often. That
being said, this recipe comes via the beautiful blog, remedial eating, as a
post more than two years old. I probably
should have found it sooner, but thank goodness Molly linked to this recipe in
a more recent post about a different kind of soup. Molly’s soup is adapted from Julia’s soup,
Julia as in Julia Child’s soup, as
featured in Mastering the Art of French
Cooking, which of course I bought after the movie Julie & Julia came out, so I definitely should have found this
sooner. But I found it now, and that’s
what counts.
Molly’s version suggests a range for 60% of the ingredients,
a list that numbers only 5. I went with
the upper limit of all three of these, and then threw in an extra potato. I get mine from Costco so they’re enormous,
but I could hardly make something called Potato
Leek Soup if it only contained one potato.
I also don’t know what she means by being “slightly thicker” with larger
vegetables because my soup remained very thin even with my extra potato
madness. I also didn’t happen to weigh
my impulsive potato so I’m guessing here on the potato quantity.
18 oz. Russet potatoes, but see note above and use anything
up to slightly less than double that (an extra potato for luck?)
18 oz. leeks, dark green leaves removed, leaving whites and
yellow-green parts only
2 quarts H2O
2 ½ tsp. salt
6 T. heavy cream
Peel and slice potatoes into rounds. Half your leeks and wash them
thoroughly. I like to rinse mine under
running water. Then thinly slice them.
Place everything but the heavy cream into a large pot, like
a Dutch oven, and bring to a boil. Turn
the heat down to maintain a simmer for 40-50 minutes, partially covered, or
until the potatoes are very tender.
Using a stick blender, buzz the heck out of your soup for
1-2 minutes, until the soup is completely smooth. Then stir in the cream, taste for seasoning,
and serve.
I ate this soup by itself, bowlful after bowlful, until
sadly I’d eaten all the leftovers. But I’m
sure it would be nice next to a nice sandwich or salad or something. Or just a spoon.
