We were back in Chicago two weeks ago to dedicate dad’s headstone, and after the service at mom’s we hosted another group, smaller this time, and another identical tray: corned beef, rye bread and pickles, kaiser rolls, cookies and cakes. The kind of spread he loved but we were eating, there in now-just-my-mother’s kitchen, and though we had plenty to feed the crowd I still considered pulling the big red pot from her cabinet and stirring some onion soup. That’s what I see; to another cook full of memories but free of that one, it will be just good soup, but doesn’t that bear repeating? Living with what we have, moving forward, happy to slurp just good soup.

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From December 18, 2008. Original post and comments here

When a person is down – in general, in trouble, or in mourning – friends often say things like “take care of yourself,” and by all means I agree, take care. But how? Some friends say this in summary, a tag line at the door. Wearing winter coats and tying on scarves, they hold you by the arms and look you in the eye. Take care of yourself. Some mean please don’t fall off the edge, others mean stop taking care of others, and the most well-meaning and practical wish you to actually take care of yourself. Physically. As in eat carrots, get sleep, drink more tea.

Good advice, and like most healthy ideas, easier said than done. The unfortunate eating started before my father was even gone, first in a hospital at 3 am, where a meal of M & M’s does not seem like a bad thing. My mom had asked me to find her a Hershey bar – so I wandered noiseless halls for a vending machine, which I found, but without Hershey bars. I studied the candy through the glass – B6, C8, D4 – to decide what substitute would be best. Three Musketeers wasn’t right, Twix too fussy, and Snickers – a bit heavy before sunrise. M & M’s might last us all night, while we watched Dad sleep and snow fall through the dark, one chocolate bite at a time.

By the next evening people filled my mother’s living room, bearing crumb cake and cookies and eager, oversized pies. It was then that I made the ludicrous decision to eat no carbs in that house, no matter what chocolate, rye bread or Bundt cake was put on the counter. It is worth noting that I am generally one with the carbs, and most days I require lots of Saltines, and brown sugar, and oatmeal. But here I was sure that without structure, I’d mindlessly eat through the days and in a week, the fog would lift and I’d regret it. No, I would not comfort myself with the good stuff, and under that dazed plan I found I didn’t even mind the parade of cousins and friends plowing through said good stuff. Annoyed at being shooed out of the kitchen – take care of yourself, don’t do anything! – I contented myself with a pile of breadless corned beef, salty black olives, and sliced cheese.

A few days later we were driving home, and just above the sadness I sensed a small triumph – I had not given in. No cookies, brownies or bread had passed my lips. Aha! Grief meant losing, but not losing control. I stared at winter roads for hours, thinking I miss Dad already. But I will not have to buy new jeans.

Back home, I quickly succumbed to baguettes, then bagel chips, and then biscotti, all brought by friends – until eventually I found myself standing in the kitchen on the phone, nibbling idly at a friend’s turtle brownies while my mother recounted her meeting with the bank. You can make a pretty good dent in a 9 x 13 brownie pan when you’re on the phone, believe you me. This would not do.

I opened the fridge and realized it was empty. Kind friends had delivered all sorts of temptations, but it held no real supplies. A quick trip to the store felt good and routine; filling the shelves felt even better. By the time I was melting butter I knew the answer, and it had nothing to do with jeans. Rules and sadness don’t mix, and being stuffed and served by well-meaning friends, no matter how well, is only part of what you need. In my kitchen, alone with a soft black dog and a blue pot of onions, I could think, and cry, and laugh and dab my eyes over soup. That is doing whatever you need to do, and taking very good care of oneself.

French Onion Cider Soup

2 small onions, thinly sliced
1 Golden Delicious apple – peeled, cored and diced fine
1-2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon flour
16 oz apple cider
1 quart (32 oz) chicken broth
1/2 cup white wine
salt & white pepper
nutmeg

crusty bread
sliced Gruyere (or other Swiss cheese)

In a large pot, melt the butter over medium-low heat and add the onions and diced apples. Stir briefly to combine, then cover to let ingredients steam, about 5-7 minutes, checking and stirring occasionally. Remove cover and stir mixture frequently, until onions are deep golden brown and apples soften completely, almost disappearing.

When mixture is a deep golden brown (bottom of pan will also have browning) turn heat to low, then add flour and 1/2 cup of the apple cider, stirring constantly to form a sticky, combined mixture.

Add chicken broth, white wine and remaining apple cider to the pot, deglazing browned pan and stirring onion-apple mixture into broth. When onions have broken up into the broth, partially cover soup and simmer on low for about 20 minutes, or until golden brown, slightly reduced and thickened. Season with salt, white pepper and nutmeg to taste.

To serve:

Preheat broiler. Place oven-safe soup bowls (2-4, depending on portion size) on a rimmed sheet pan.

Place thick chunks of crusty bread (toasted is even better) in bottom of oven-safe soup bowls. Ladle warm soup over bread to almost, but not quite, fill the bowl. Top with slices of Gruyere cheese, allowing a slight overhang. Slide pan with soup bowls under hot broiler to melt cheese. Watch carefully – cheese will frequently melt, brown and bubble in less than a minute. Remove carefully from oven, and serve.

Soup (minus bread and cheese) serves 2-4 and keeps, refrigerated, for several days.*

* this is a good soup to make ahead, as flavor only deepens the next day. Re-warm soup before assembling the bread and cheese bowls, then ladle and serve as directed.

Today our refrigerator pal is onion-soup onions. Scanning your shelves, you think, what? This is not a leftover I have. Dear friends it’s October, and time to simmer soup. If you haven’t yet done so you should, and you can start with my favorite French Onion-Cider Soup, here. If like me you’re heavy-handed with the onions, you can enjoy a few rounds of soup and still have plenty left over – a translucent golden heap, steeped in loving wine-kissed soup. I look forward to this heap, because soup-smooched onions are a bonus, an ingredient so prized there should be onion soup-onion-hunting pigs. Now – if you can resist caramelized snacking by the spoonful, here are five easy ways to use them:

1. Croque Monsieur Football Edition The Parisians would literally croak seeing their beloved snack all faux’ed up and served to screaming Chiefs fans. But can they argue with greatness? To make these open-faced sandwiches, start with slices of thick, eggy bread like challah or brioche. Swipe on a dab of grainy mustard, then add Black Forest ham and onion soup-onions. Top with sliced Gruyere (or Fontina, or Jarlsberg) cheese, and sprinkle top with a dash of cayenne pepper. Lay sandwiches on sheet pan and place under hot broiler, just until cheese bubbled and browns. Serve (to viewers) immediately.

2. French Onion Omelet I made one of these for Josie earlier today, a rolled yellow omelet stuffed with spinach leaves, soup onions, melting Gruyere and nutmeg, and when asked how it was she could not answer, just a sound. To use onion soup-onions in omelets, first make sure they’re drained. Although your soup is ostensibly gone, the onions still hold liquid – so before using, let onions rest briefly on a paper towel to dry. On to the omelets: for wonderful fillings, try combining onions with fresh spinach, Swiss cheese and a dash of nutmeg, or mixed wild mushrooms with onions and goat cheese.

3. Maple-Onion Roast Butternut Squash Preheat oven to 400 F. Halve, peel, and remove seeds from a large (approx 3 lbs) butternut squash. Cut into 3/4″ chunks, then toss squash pieces in bowl with 1 cup onion soup-onions, 1/4 cup maple syrup, and 2 tablespoons olive oil. Season to taste with sea salt, ground pepper and dried thyme. Spread squash mixture on sheet pan and bake approximately 40 minutes, or until squash pieces are lightly browned on sides, and softened. Stir and turn squash pieces every 12-15 minutes to better caramelize and avoid burning.

4. Onion-Dill Cream Cheese Not your average spread. In food processor fitted with metal blade, place 8 oz softened cream cheese, one large scoop onion soup-onions, and a few large sprigs of fresh dill.  Process to almost smooth, leaving a few onion pieces, occasionally stopping processor to scrape down sides. Turn mixture into bowl and stir in sea salt and ground pepper to taste. Try serving with bagels and marinated cucumbers, or pumpernickel and smoked salmon.

5. Pecan, Brie and French Onion Quesadillas Here I borrow (and mess around with ) a great idea from Gwen Ashley Walters, a marvelous blogging chef who first shared these quesadillas in her July 2009 Tell Simmer. Take 2 (8-inch) flour tortillas and spread each with a heaping tablespoon of chopped onion soup-onions.  Divide 3 tablespoons chopped, toasted pecans and sprinkle each half over onions. Add 3 ounces (about 1/2 cup) chopped Brie cheese over one half of each tortilla.  Sprinkle pinch of sea salt and dash each of nutmeg and cayenne pepper over cheese on each tortilla. Fold tortillas in half, pressing gently. Cook quesadillas on a preheated griddle (or in a skillet) until tortilla browns and cheese starts to melt, about 2 to 3 minutes, flip and brown the other side. Cut each tortilla into four wedges before serving.

So there we have it – onion soup, the gift that keeps giving. Any leftover love ideas to share?

French Onion Cider Soup

2 small onions, thinly sliced
1 Golden Delicious apple – peeled, cored and diced fine
1-2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon flour
16 oz apple cider
1 quart (32 oz) chicken broth
1/2 cup white wine
salt & white pepper
nutmeg

crusty bread
sliced Gruyere (or other Swiss cheese)

In a large pot, melt the butter over medium-low heat and add the onions and diced apples.  Stir briefly to combine, then cover to let ingredients steam, about 5-7 minutes, checking and stirring occasionally.  Remove cover and stir mixture frequently, until onions are deep golden brown and apples soften completely, almost disappearing.

When mixture is a deep golden brown (bottom of pan will also have browning) turn heat to low, then add flour and 1/2 cup of the apple cider, stirring constantly to form a sticky, combined mixture.

Add chicken broth, white wine and remaining apple cider to the pot, deglazing browned pan and stirring onion-apple mixture into broth.  When onions have broken up into the broth, partially cover soup and simmer on low for about 20 minutes, or until golden brown, slightly reduced and thickened.  Season with salt, white pepper and nutmeg to taste.

To serve:

Preheat broiler. Place oven-safe soup bowls (2-4, depending on portion size) on a rimmed sheet pan.

Place thick chunks of crusty bread (toasted is even better) in bottom of oven-safe soup bowls.  Ladle warm soup over bread to almost, but not quite, fill the bowl.  Top with slices of Gruyere cheese, allowing a slight overhang.  Slide pan with soup bowls under hot broiler to melt cheese.  Watch carefully – cheese will frequently melt, brown and bubble in less than a minute.  Remove carefully from oven, and serve.

Soup (minus bread and cheese) serves 2-4 and keeps, refrigerated, for several days.*

* this is a good soup to make ahead, as flavor only deepens the next day.  Re-warm soup before assembling the bread and cheese bowls, then ladle and serve as directed.

It has been my pal in the kitchen and on the plate for a long time. One of my earliest efforts was a bizarre “St. Patrick’s Day” quiche for my grandfather – Romanian Jewish, but whatever – who gamely ate it, even slightly runny and curiously green food coloring-enhanced.

When I was newly pregnant and baking at a Chicago cafe in 1995, I developed a desperate need for smoked turkey, broccoli and cheddar quiche – and instructed the staff to make it for me every single day. That’s a lot of quiche.

Out of vogue and definitely out of shape, quiche should have disappeared by now – but it stubbornly hangs on, bless its cheesy self. It is so richly beckoning and seductively good. Give it to yourself once a year – the other 364 days are mine.

Josie demonstrates her knife safety skills. Look at that young pro – both thumbs intact!

Make your favorite pie dough or use a store-bought version. Extra fat = extra flaky.

Switching hats, Josie doubles as an action food photographer. Nice one!

I am not thinking about quiche. I am thinking “my hands are starting to look like Grandma’s.”

A blurry mise-en-place: crimped and ready crust, egg-and-cream mixture, cooked bacon.

O cheese; light of my life, dream of my palate, scourge of my stomach.

Place the unfilled quiche on a sheet pan, then assemble the cheese and bacon in a pleasing modern design of your choosing. Start to pour the egg mixture over the top…

…then slap your head and say, “god, Marilyn, how long have you been doing this?” The best way to do this is to put the pan in the oven first and then pour the egg mixture over the top, as seen above.

This prevents having to move a very full, spill-prone unbaked quiche to the oven. Trust me.

It goes fast. Somehow, quiche is even more decadent the next day, eaten cold, straight from the pan and standing up in the kitchen. Don’t tell my doctor. Or my daughter.

Here’s a nice fuzzy shot of quiche with its soul mate, French Onion Soup. Fuzzy is how you feel after eating this. As in you will feel fuzzy, and delicious, and then unconscious.

QUICHE LORRAINE

This classic recipe is from Jane and Michael Stern’s wonderful 1991 book American Gourmet. One of my all-time, most dog-eared favorites, it celebrates the luxe “gourmet-ing” of America in the 50′s and 60′s, especially “swank company food” like the then-exotic Quiche Lorraine.

With no bending to skim milk or plasticky low-cal Swiss, here is the real thing. Pop a Lipitor and hope for the best.

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Dough for one 9″ one-crust pie
6 thick slices bacon, cooked
5 oz. swiss cheese – gruyere or jarlsberg, cut into slices approx. same size as the bacon
4 eggs
1 tbsp flour
generous dash of nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
pinch of cayenne
2 cups heavy cream
1 1/2 tbsp butter, melted

Line a 9-inch pie plate with dough. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Fry the bacon (or use pre-cooked) until it is cooked but not crisp. Drain on paper towels.

Layer the bacon and cheese in a crosshatch pattern on the pie dough.

Beat together the eggs, flour, nutmeg, salt and cayenne. Gradually beat in the cream and, finally, the melted butter. Beat well and strain the mixture over the bacon and cheese in the pie crust.

Bake 45-50 minutes, or until the custard is set and the top nicely browned. Serve slightly warm.