Soupe Au Pistou: Something Good in the World

"When I make soup, I feel like I've really done something good in the world."
          -- Mary Gordon

I love discovering that a writer I admire -- or really, anyone I admire -- is a cook, a reader of food/cooking literature, or  simply a passionate eater.  It confirms something for me -- it makes me feel that I'm not alone, that I'm not foolish to care so much about my food, about G's food, and about feeding people.  Perhaps it's not wrong that one of my greatest pleasures is watching the faces of others as they eat something I've made (when it's one of my successes, anyway.  We won't discuss what the faces look like under other circumstances). 

I've long admired the novels and the writing of Mary Gordon.  Her first book, Final Payments, is the story of a woman who has spent her youth caring for her aging and ill father.  When he dies, she begins the work of constructing a life with herself at the center -- a difficult task particularly for women of certain generations, for whom self-sacrifice is a basic tenet of their way of life.  Many of her subsequent novels and other books have as a theme the struggle between values that people may have been taught are good or right or necessary, and the development of an identity or the preservation of a sense of self.  The desire for a moderately sane yet moral and ethical life amidst the cacophony of religious and cultural impositions is often what drives her characters. 

I believe that those of us who think a great deal about our food may often have a little Calvinist voice in the back of our heads that asks us why we would spend time and energy on something so frivolous -- something that doesn't last, doesn't build up either spiritual or material treasure in the world, but is merely consumed.    When I came across this interview with Ms. Gordon  while making a version of Patricia Wells' soupe au pistou, I felt that the quote above was certainly worth pondering. 

Perhaps I eat too much pastry and indulge in expensive chocolate too often.  Maybe we could lower our grocery bills by cutting back on the more costly items, or I could try to use up some of the esoteric ingredients in the cupboard, instead of constantly buying new ones (Elderflower cordial?  Tamarind paste, anyone?)    But ever since I read what Mary Gordon has to say, it comforts me to think that for all my foodie flaws and extravagances, I do make soup.  Quite often, in fact. 

A pot (more like a vat, really) of Soupe au Pistou fed G and myself healthily and well for quite a number of meals.  In addition, I brought soup to our friends whose apartment is up for sale, and who are loathe to use their kitchen since they never know when prospective buyers are going to appear for a viewing.   My soup and I were greeted with such enthusiasm that you would have thought I was the realtor, appearing with news of a sale.  After weeks of take-out and restaurant meals, our friends' gratitude for this simple yet restorative vegetable soup was enormous.  Then I found out that a dear cousin of mine had been ill, and so arranged to visit her -- with soup containers in hand.  I'll give you the recipe on Martha's website, since she has permission to reprint it.

And that's one of the lovely and difficult things about this soup.  It makes an absolutely huge quantity.  So be sure before embarking on this that you have either lots of friends and relatives that need soup, or lots of freezer space, or both.    And even if you don't give any away, you will have had the all the pleasures of handling fresh vegetables and herbs: shelling cranberry beans, cleaning leeks, washing and chopped everything, looking at the play of colors and textures in your pot, watching and stirring and tasting all the changes.  You'll make the glorious pistou, and grate some good Parmigiano or Gruyere or both, to stir into your hot bowl of soup.  Your kitchen will be filled with the scent of basil and garlic, and all that those smells recall for you -- faraway villages dappled in sunlight, a favorite restaurant, your grandmother's kitchen.  You'll be nourishing yourself and perhaps those you love.  You'll be doing something good in the world. 

Comments

[Joe C]

Same question as usual. Where's mine?

[Joe C]

Pictures looking better and better.

[Julie]

Bro, bro...as a constant recipient of my culinary largesse, you can't really fault me for giving some away to others, now and again. I'll make another batch soon -- I bet E would like this too. As for the pics, well...I really need that digital camera...

[rowena]

Ahhhh...Soupe Au Pistou! I made such a fuss about hopping over to France to BUY a french cookbook with the recipe for soupe au pistou! Of course my husband has no problem with that as he knows it'll be something on the menu one day...

Just wanted to pop over and tell you, no PRAISE you for that Potted Chicken (and Meatballs) recipe! I made it last night as it required ingredients that should be in my pantry all of the time. The smell was heavenly, and my husband actually said..."Buonissima!"

Thanks again Julie, for writing, for sharing, and for loving food just as much as I do!

[Ernie]

It's true you feel that you've accomplished something after making a big pot of soup. I've recently made my yearly split pea soup with the ham bone left over from our New Years dinner. Every year we have "the" ham(Julie you know what I mean), and my father and good friend always await their soup!

[Julie]

Rowena, I'm so glad that the chicken worked out for you -- I worry a little since as I said, I don't use measurements for the food that I learned at my mother's knee. Did you make the meatballs as well?

Which soupe au pistou recipe do you use? Which cookbook did you hop over to France for? Dying to know. How lovely to live in Europe and be able to country-hop occasionally -- not like here, where we're stuck in the vast stretches of our own immense wasteland.

Ernie, I'm sure that split pea soup was amazing -- considering the quality of the ham as well as the quality of the cook! Ummm...uhhh...when do you go to Lancaster again? ;D

[ejm]

You found fresh cranberry beans at this time of year, Julie? Wow! I've never tried Soupe Au Pistou, but I do love soup made with pulses. The recipe sounds fantastic. Thanks for pointing to the Wells recipe. (I wondered what "pistou" was!)

We recently had puy lentils and sausage for dinner and there was enough left over for one person to have them for dinner the next night OR with the addition of a little chicken stock to turn it into puy lentil soup. Oh my my my!! It was phenomenal. We garnished it with a little Balkan style yoghurt....

-Elizabeth

[Ernie]

Julie,

Not to worry, I'll let you know when I make my ham journey.

[Julie]

Maybe we should call it your ham pilgrimage...

[Ernie]

Some people bring back souvenirs, I bring pork products.
Remind me to get you some bacon as well, it's amazing.

[Julie]

You bring back pork products, and are greatly loved for it!

[Julie]

Elizabeth, that sounds like a wonderful lenti soup (a soup I also love, in infinite variations). The cranberry beans were at my treasured store Fairway (see the "going shopping" category), and were absolutely delicious -- big and fresh with a creamy taste.

[ejm]

We just recently discovered cranberry beans and they are pretty wonderful, aren't they. I've only seen them fresh in the autumn though. The great thing about them is that dried cranberry beans are almost (if not the same) as good as fresh. I read about them in SAVEUR magazine (May2004) and we've made a great pasta sauce based on a recipe in that issue.

They invariably work their way into our chili con carne as well. I knew someone who loved eating who professed not to like beans and will always regret not being able to convince her that she neeeeeeded to change her mind.

-Elizabeth

[rowena]

Julie, yes I made the meatballs too....and not to worry, because I don't like to use measurements either...which is why it's always difficult for me to post a recipe of my own doing...I mean how much is a handful? Or just enough for two? I think maybe I should just post photos of the estimated amount.

As for the soupe au pistou, it was just one of those little paperback books that you find at the tourist shops. Just the very vague amounts called for made me buy it, along with the very simple photo. Nothing fancy, but oh so good!