Why Care About Celery Soup?

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Indeed. Unless you grew up with your mom cranking open that can of Campbell's (all WASPs please raise your hands), why would you care about celery soup? I'll tell you why: because Thanksgiving just happened.
But Tory, you say, I didn't serve celery soup for Thanksgiving!
Of course you didn't. Nobody does (until you've tried mine). No no, you care because if we are anything alike, your celery sits in the crisper after you use the three stalks needed for Thanksgiving and slowly rots until you throw it away in mid-December.
Happy Holidays.
In this time of recession and hungry people, I feel extra guilt for wasting food. This is my humble answer to what to do with that celery.
Because you can only eat so many ants on a log.

(Leftover) Celery Soup
This recipe originated from The Moosewood Cookbook. It was vegetarian and a bit bland for my taste, but I'm grateful to Mollie Katzen for getting this soup party started. It's low calorie, not that it matters- you're already beautiful! But it's a warming, healthy soup in the midst of our season of over-indulging. I'll give you the recipe, then the prep photos.
Serves 6

2 tbs. butter
1 cup finely minced onion
4 1/2 cups celery, divided: 4 cups in 1-inch chunks, 1/2 cup chopped very fine
2 tsp. salt, divided
1 tsp. celery seed
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
2 tbs. dry white wine (dry vermouth works in a pinch)

3 cups low-sodium chicken stock
1 big Yukon Gold potato, peeled and diced
dash nutmeg

1 cup milk
2-3 tbs. Greek yogurt or sour cream
white pepper to taste
2 tbs. minced fresh parsley or snipped chives

In large pot over medium-high heat, melt butter. Add onion, 1/2 cup finely minced celery, celery seed, ground coriander and 1/2 tsp. salt. Saute about 8 minutes, or until vegetables are golden and just tender. Add wine; stir until evaporated, about 30 seconds. Set vegetable mixture aside in bowl.

In same pot, bring chicken stock to boil. Add 4 cups celery in 1-inch chunks, potato, remaining 1 1/12 tsp. salt and pinch nutmeg. Return to boil, then lower heat and cover. Simmer about 18 minutes, or until potato is easily pierced with fork. Transfer to blender or food processor. Puree, in batches if necessary. Return to pot with reserved vegetable mixture.

Whisk in milk, yogurt, and salt and white pepper to taste. Serve warm and garnish with chopped fresh herbs.

And now the pictures!

I love beautiful prep:


Very finely chopped, indeed.


Go, celery, go!


Never fill your blender more than 2/3 full. TRUST ME.


Ahhhh. So lovely. I forgot the garnish and it's still delicious.

Always organic? Not in this economy...

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So I try to buy organic as much as I can- it tastes much better, helps preserve the environment and often supports mid-sized and small farms- but (as I'm sure many of you understand) in the last few years it's become too expensive to buy everything organic.
So then how do I decide, standing there in the produce aisle biting my lip, which kinds of apples to buy? For a while I was choosing based on price: potatoes, onions and carrots are cheap anyway, so going organic there wasn't much of a price jump. Raspberries? Forget about it.
But I recently came across this handy pocket guide and thought it might help my readers too. Below is a little card you can print out and put in your wallet that shows which produce gets coated in pesticides (so buy organic!), and which ones are less heavily sprayed (so save your pennies!).
Plus, it's cute.

Cukes and Cukes Alone

Dear reader, I'm back! And I missed you. I'm sorry I was gone so long, if I were a lover I'd totally break up with me. Fortunately, I'm just your friendly food writer and intrepid eater... hopefully we can rebuild our delicious trust!

In LA we're at the tail end of a heat wave, ugh, and the only food I can think about while sweating is... cucumbers. Cool and refreshing, our long green friends came originally from India or Thailand (locales that know unrelenting heat!) and have been cultivated for thousands of years by grateful panting people.

I like that these humble, low-cost veggies can be transformed into fancy finger sandwiches for wedding showers.

Some friends and I hosted a wedding shower tea for our friend Tanya. It was a delightful soiree:










Because Tanya is of German descent, I also made tea sandwiches with very dark pumpernickel bread: I smeared them with whipped cream cheese (it's easier to spread), draped some smoked, wild-caught Alaskan Sockeye salmon (wild-caught has a brighter color, tastes better and lived a happy fish life until it got hooked) and topped each with a dill sprig.

(That's me worrying that I didn't make enough... and I always make too much.) The colors popped and livened up the fairly monochromatic cucumber sandwiches, they tasted great, and I like including elements of people's heritage into shower celebrations. That stuff matters when you're creating a new family.

So thanks for checking back in, my friends! I've got plenty more to say and eat as soon as it cools off. We'll be chowing down again soon.

What a Cook Got!

It's a Christmas Miracle!
Dear reader, Santa came for me this year! My lovely sister Jen and friendly brother-in-law P.J. are avid readers of my blog (God bless them!) and live in the Boston area. When I waxed on about Formaggio Kitchen in Cambridge they went to check it out, and Hooray! sent me a fabulous selection of five French cheeses from the Western Loire Valley. They were divine; I had to use all my willpower to not polish them off before Christmas! And they arrived with smoked salt-- a few grains went a long way, and made each cheese really pop. The smoked salt was also superb on the roast beast I made for Christmas dinner (along with the fabulous spinach lasagna for the vegetarians!).
As usual, Brendan showed up early to work his magic with the green beans, and I pressed my dear friend LJ into service arranging the glorious cheese platter. That's some serious Christmas magic right there.

What a Cook Wants, 11

The Best Vegetable Peeler in the World
Leave it to the Germans. The Messermeister is sharp as hell and gets the job done with no complaints. I'd probably be nervous to let a kid use it, but Lord it'll have your cucumbers naked in about 10 seconds flat. The blade is serrated so it leaves pretty stripes on the vegetables.
You may be thinking, A vegetable peeler? Tory, that's a lame-ass gift. But you would be wrong. Any cook would be psyched to have such a well-made tool in her drawer. Who doesn't like using the best equipment~ it only encourages you to cook more.
$6 for the Messermeister vegetable peeler. You won't regret it.

Eggs Foo Young

Growing up I loved the one Chinese restaurant in town. The red walls, soy-salty air, and (no joke) backlit moving waterfull artwork seemed magical to my wide blue eyes. I loved that the owners talked differently, that the names of the food held promise and mystery. General Tso's Chicken- who was this general? Why did he care so much about chicken? Did he eat it before battle and emerge victorious because it warmed his belly? Egg Drop Soup sounded so friendly: in my house if I dropped an egg I'd be in big trouble, but at Lotus Chinese that same mistake turned into delicious soup.
And I loved that every time I ate there, the owners brought me strawberry ice cream for dessert, whether or not I ordered it. Even when my mother protested, they wouldn't take the dish away until a scant spoonful of ice cream soup was left.
I will tell you a secret: I didn't like strawberry ice cream. I don't care for it now, just give me chocolate. But I'd eat it and say thank you while they smiled and nodded at me. I felt we were friends in a way. I like to think they noticed the goofy little white girl who was really into their food, who gobbled up everything (even broccoli). Actually, my love of their broccoli got me into trouble many times.
"Why do you eat their broccoli but turn your nose up at mine," my mother asked whenever we ate there. I'd shrug helplessly. It wasn't until years later I figured out it was a texture issue. In traditional Chinese cooking, veggies are generally cooked until they're crisp-tender, not a second more. This keeps them delicous (plus they retain more nutrients). My mother's background was English, German, and Donna Reed Casserole. All that history was an unstoppable force: she couldn't help but boil broccoli for a solid ten minutes. I'd smush it with a fork just because I could; obscene amounts of butter and salt still didn't make it edible. My dog wouldn't touch it. But oh, the beef and broccoli with its hearty crunch and sweet, salty sauce. Powerful.
After I learned to read I started pointing at the menu, What's that? And that? By the second grade I had mastered chopsticks, much to everyone's surprise (a story for another day). I took great pleasure in trading in my fork for two rough wooden sticks and consuming slippery lo mein noodles and eggs foo young with aplomb.

Today if we were to dine, I'd take you out to the heart of Chinatown. There hardly anybody looks like me, and the food is a clever symphony of funky and mellow, bitter and sweet, crisp and soft. I'd show off my affection for jellyfish and chicken feet, and probably act confused if you asked about moo go gai pan (a dish my father loves that I suspect only the white man eats). I might even wrangle you an invite to my pal Vanessa's Chinese New Year feast (sweet Jesus it's amazing). And I'd certainly deny ever eating at a little spot on Santa Monica where forks are on the table, moo go gai pan is on the menu, and everything needs more soy sauce to give it flavor... but I recommend their eggs foo young.