Late Spring Tonic: A Bowl of Green

I used to...stand in deep contemplation over my vegetable progeny with a love that nobody could share or conceive of who had never taken part in the process of creation.  It was one of the most bewitching  sights in the world to observe a hill of beans thrusting aside the soil, or a rose of early peas just peeping forth sufficiently to trace a line of delicate green.
    -   Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mosses from an Old Manse


Sometimes I really envy the farmers at the Greenmarket, who get to feel those feelings that Hawthorne describes above.  It's been a long time since I've had a garden.  I make do, however, with the produce I purchase.  Like temporary adoptees, I think of them as Hawthorne's and my "vegetable progeny" -- whom I then cut up and throw into a pot. 

As the rest of the world is no doubt aware, those of us in the Northeast have spent a fair amount of time writing, talking, blogging and whimpering about our late, chilly spring.  Not to complain more, but rather as a note of curiousity about what's happening climactically, there have been very few springs in living memory where I find myself wearing flannels to bed in June.  I know one person who's happy, though.  G detests warm weather.  Any time the mercury goes above 65, he considers that an unholy hot day.  I believe he dreams that someday we'll move to Alaska.

As far as food, here's what I've discovered.  My timely spring longing for all manner of fruity and herby and salady and green things has been surging in my blood despite the cold.  At the same time, I find that I still want something hot and comforting on blustery, rainy, nasty or just damp and chilly days.   The solution is a warm bowl of green.  It needn't be rich -- one can easily dispense with the cream called for in many pureed soup recipes, especially when it seems to dull the sprightly flavors of  vegetable and herb.   As for G, well, there are few things that make for a more joyous suppertime in our house than a bowl of soup.  Almost any soup makes him purely happy, particularly if it's paired with a grilled sandwich containing cheese somewhere between the bread.

My two most recent bowls o' green are Asparagus-Leek Soup and Green Bean Basil Soup, pictured above.  Since blogs have been rampant with asparagus recipes lately and you may feel a bit inundated, I'll share the green bean with you.  It will be good as a cold soup later in the summer too, when our local green beans and basil are finally at the farmers' market.  For now, I cheat and use stuff that's obviously been trucked in from elsewhere, coz I need my green. 

This soup is a bit of revelation to most people.   "Green bean soup?  Never heard of it."  Neither had I.  I found the recipe years ago in The Tassajara Recipe Book, an old but still tasty vegetarian tome by the venerable Ed Brown of Tassajara Bread Book  and Greens Restaurant fame.   The recipes, like those in the Bread Book, are from the Tassajara Springs Zen Center.  My changes were to use leeks instead of onions and scallions, and to put basil right in the soup instead of topping it with a separate basil butter. 

Those Zen monks eat well.  I cut a fair amount of the butter and all of the cream out of this recipe.  It's not that I'm anti-fat or don't love my dear dairy friends --  I do, I do.  I just love a little springtime spring in my step too, no matter how cold it is outside. 

Green Bean Soup with Basil
adapted from The Tassajara Recipe Book

Makes 6 - 8 servings

2 pounds bright velvety green beans
3 fat leeks (or more, if they're smaller)
2 Tbsp. butter or olive oil
Salt and pepper
1 1/2 cups well-washed fresh basil leaves
Grated rind of one organic lemon

Wash and trim the beans, and cut them into short lengths.  Boil them until they're just crisp-tender.  Drain them and save the water as your soup stock.  Set aside about a cup of the lightly cooked beans for garnish. 

Wash, trim and slice the leeks.  Heat the butter in a large saucepan or soup kettle, and when it foams, add the leeks.  Saute them until they're soft and smell heavenly.  Add the beans, and just enough of their cooking water to cover.  Bring to a boil, and simmer until the beans have given up all signs of resistance, but are still nice and green.  This is the difficult part.  You don't want them overcooked, but they have to be soft enough to puree. 

Puree batches of the soup in a blender, adding a handful of basil leaves midway through the pureeing process.  Be patient and puree this well.  That way you won't have any nasty little fibers to deal with.  When all the soup is pureed and back in the pot, grate the zest of an organic lemon into it.  Season with salt and pepper, stir well, taste and adjust seasoning.  Serve, garnished with the reserved green beans floating on each bowl. 

Comments

[Melissa]

That soup looks beautiful - so vibrant! Many years ago I learned how to make bread from a recipe in the Tassajara bread book - it was the best ever. I certainly know what you mean about craving spring-y foods in spite of the weather - it seems my body has its own annual clock that compels me to eat certain things regardless of what the thermometer says. And not to worry, it's not like everyone is basking in the June sun - we're starting to wonder if spring will ever arrive!

[Joe C]

The asparagus-and-leek version of this soup was simply marvelous. It's even better when Julie cooks it herself and delivers it personally to our apartment. What a little gal!