Glazed carrots are a classic French preparation.  But I don’t always think about.  Not that it’s difficult, but frankly, I tend to use carrots as an afterthought, raw as a snack, chopped with celery and onions, or simply roasted.  But rarely as a stand-alone star.  Which is a shame, because beautiful, richly colored carrots are a taste treat.  Add a bourbon spiked, cane syrup sweet glaze and the humble carrot becomes a stellar addition to your plate.

I see these rainbow colored trimmed carrots more frequently, and they certainly up the wow factor, but regular orange trimmed carrots work beautifully.  You can also peel plain carrots and cut them on the bias into evenly sized chunks.  Whichever you use, make sure they are roughly the same size so they cook evenly.

Cane Syrup and Bourbon Glazed Carrots

12 ounces trimmed carrots

1 Tablespoon butter

1 Tablespoon cane syrup (or maple syrup)

1 Tablespoon bourbon

½ cup water

Salt

Choose a medium sized skillet, and cut a round of parchment paper to fit inside as a cover. Cut a small hole of slit in the center of the parchment to vent steam.

Melt the butter in the skillet, then add the carrots and gently stir to coat.  Add the cane syrup and bourbon and stir again.  Pour in the water, bring it to a boil and reduce the heat to a simmer.  Cover the carrots with the parchment round, pressing it down around the edges of the pan.  Cook until the carrots are tender, removing the paper once to stir the carrots, then replacing it. This should take 15 minutes or so, depending on the size of your carrots.

When the carrots are tender, remove the paper and cook, stirring frequently, until the liquid is evaporated leaving a shiny glaze on the carrots.  Sprinkle with salt and serve immediately.

Serves 4

It has already snowed here in Memphis twice this year, but too early and too inconvenient.  I am hoping for a few more snow days, when I have no need to leave the house and am prepared with a good book, with enough warning for a trip to the grocery.  It doesn’t get cold enough, often enough here to invest in big, heavy wool turtleneck sweaters and thick mittens, but I like to imagine myself in one of those photo spreads, wrapped in a pretty scarf and a sweater, logs burning in the background, laughing over a steaming bowl of warming soup.  This would be the soup in that picture.

Bracing is how I would describe this soup. Perfect after a chilly day outdoors or a warm night by the fire.  Underrated  parsnips have a unique bite and lovely fragrance, the fennel is bright and the leeks add a rich undertone.  The pureed soup is silky and rich. I love the creamy color of this soup, that’s why I gave it a slightly silly name.  It is great on its own, sipped from mugs, but is also a great bowl soup for toppings.  I like some lightly toasted, but not browned, croutons.  Thinly slice some peeled parsnips and fry them until crispy to make chips to float on the top.  Crumbled, crispy smoky bacon is a wonderful addition, and a drizzle of fruity olive oil can add a touch of luxury.  A little shower of chopped fennel fronds add freshness and a spot of green.

Snow White Soup (Parsnip, Fennel and Leek Soup)

Use a light colored chicken broth, one that is too dark will give the soup a muddy color.

1 ¼ pounds parsnips (about 4 medium)

1 pound fennel (about 2 medium bulbs, to yield 12 ounces trimmed)

3 medium leeks

6 cups light-colored chicken broth

1 cup milk

Salt

Preheat the oven to 250°.

Peel the parsnips and trim off the stem end.  Cut into evenly sized chunks.  You should have 1 pound trimmed parsnips. Remove the stalks from the fennel bulbs, quarter them and cut out the tough core.  Rinse the bulbs under cold water, making sure there is no dirt between the layers. Cut into chunks roughly equivalent the parsnips.  Trim the leeks, discarding all but the white and palest green parts.  Slice each leek in half and run under cold water, fanning out the layers to remove any dirt.  Cut into chunks the size of the other vegetables.

Place all the vegetables in a 5-quart oven-safe Dutch oven.  Add the chicken broth and bring to a boil over medium high heat.  Cover the pot and move it to the oven.  Leave the soup in the oven for 3 hours until the vegetables are completely soft.

Remove the pot from the oven, uncover and leave to cool slightly.  Using an immersion blender, or very carefully on batches in a blender, blend the soup until smooth.  Add the milk and blend until completely smooth. Taste and add salt if needed.  Reheat the soup, but do not boil, and serve.

The soup can be made ahead and gently reheated.  Add a bit more milk to thin it out if needed.

Makes 4 bowls

I have a shopping problem.  Fortunately, it’s not for shoes or designer handbags, it’s at the farmers market.  I am so enamored of all the beautiful fresh produce and artisan made foods that my eyes are often bigger than my shopping bag.  I try to go with a plan and a list, but I just get so enticed by all the wonderful things.  The fire-engine red tomatoes in every size and shape.  Electric purple and snowy white eggplants.  Rainbow collections of knobbly peppers. Pink and red and soft and fuzzy peaches.  Plums with an inner glow.  Sunshine yellow squash.   And when I see the speckled green zucchini nestled up next to their crookneck cousins, a few inevitably make it home with me.

I have a large repertoire of squash preparations, but my zucchini menu is limited. I haven’t mastered the right zucchini bread recipe.  I love them on the grill, if I have the grill going.  I’ve done a beautiful shaved salad dressed with a light vinaigrette, but found it prettier than it tasted.  So this is my solution for an abundance of summer zucchini.  A simple casserole that highlights the flavor of zucchini, beautifully set off by fresh oregano and salty parmesan. It’s rich with eggs, so it’s sort of a soufflé.  But it’s bit denser, and a lot less trouble to make.  I served this recently to some almost- teenagers, and I’ve got to tell you I was a little surprised, but they cleaned their plates.

Zucchini Sort of Soufflé

3 medium zucchini

1 medium onion

2 Tablespoons butter

1 Tablespoon olive oil

2 Tablespoons chopped fresh oregano

¼ cup milk

4 eggs

¾ cup dry breadcrumbs (purchased work best)

¾ cup grated parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Grease a 2 quart baking dish.

Cut the ends off the zucchini and cut into large pieces.  With the grating disk on a food processor or the medium holes on a box grater, grate the zucchini.  You should have roughly 6 cups.  Toss the grated zucchini with 1 teaspoon kosher salt in a colander and leave to drain for at least 10 minutes.

While you’ve got the grater out, grate the onion.  If you prefer, you can dice it finely.  Heat the butter and olive oil in a skillet and cook the onion until it is soft and translucent but not brown.  In the last few minutes of cooking, toss in 1 Tablespoon of chopped oregano and stir to combine.  Remove from the heat.

Place the zucchini on a clean tea towel, roll it up, and squeeze out the moisture.  Place the zucchini in a large bowl, add the onion and stir. Measure the milk into a jug, then crack in the eggs and beat together. Add to the zucchini mixture and stir to combine.  Add the bread crumbs and the remaining chopped oregano, a few grinds of black pepper and a sprinkling of kosher salt and stir to combine.

Scrape the mixture into the prepared baking dish and bake for 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and sprinkle the top with parmesan.  Bake until puffed and golden, another 10 – 15 minutes.

Serves 6- 8

Spring is finally here, and one of the first green vegetables to appear is asparagus.  Those tender little stems signal the end of the frosty winter and the hope of more good produce to come.  Treating the first spears simply seems like the right thing to do, after months of braises and stews and root vegetables, what could be more refreshing than simply cooked green goodness.

Sauce Maltaise is a version of the classic hollandaise, made with orange juice rather than strictly lemon.  Traditionally, its blood oranges, and I find that my upscale market usually has the last of the blood oranges and the first of the asparagus at the same time.  If you can’t find blood oranges, a regular juicy orange will do fine.  The sauce takes on a lovely pinkish tint perfect for spring celebrations, and is a great compliment to the bright green asparagus.

Hollandaise has always been a bit of a trick, and despite multiple readings of Julia Child, several classes and many failed attempts, I find the traditional method a bit beyond me.  Too hit or miss really.  Sometimes I get it, and feel triumphant, but more often I don’t and vow never to make hollandaise again.  But this blender method is pretty idiot proof and produces a thick, creamy sauce in minutes.  Just make sure your butter is hot and not at all browned.  And use the best ingredients for this, splurge on some high-fat European-style butter and farm-fresh eggs if you can.  Those bright yellow yolks give such amazing flavor and beautiful color.

As I said, I like to treat the asparagus simply so I give the instructions for a quick boil, but feel free to steam the spears, or even grill them – whatever you prefer.  And the sauce maltaise can be used in any way you use hollandaise – in eggs benedict or on other vegetables.

Asparagus with Sauce Maltaise

1 pound bunch of asparagus

½ cup (1 stick) butter

3 egg yolks

1 teaspoon blood orange zest

2 Tablespoons blood orange juice

1 Tablespoon lemon juice

½ teaspoon salt

Fill a large bowl with ice water and set aside.

In a pan wide enough to hold the asparagus, bring several inches of water to a boil (enough to fully cover the asparagus.  Break off the thicker, woody stems of the asparagus spears.  When you hold the bottom of the spears and bend, they will naturally snap off at the right place.  Boil the asparagus for 4 -5 minutes until tender, but with a little bite left. Using tongs or a slotted spoon, immediately lift the asparagus into the waiting ice water, submerging completely.  When the asparagus has cooled, remove it from the water, shake off and place in a single layer on a tea towel to dry.  At this point, you may cover and chill the asparagus for several hours.

Make the sauce maltaise immediately before serving the asparagus.  Cut the butter into chunks and place in a small saucepan, one with a pouring spout if you’ve got it.  Melt the butter over medium heat, swirling it around occasionally until it is fully melted but not browned at all.  While it’s melting, place the egg yolks, orange zest, orange and lemon juice and salt in the carafe of a blender.  Whir it around to mix it all together.  When the butter has melted, turn on the blender and slowly drizzle the warm butter into the sauce in a steady stream.  When the butter has all been incorporated, turn off the blender.  You should have an emulsion as thicker than heavy cream.

Serve the sauce maltaise with the asparagus immediately. If absolutely necessary, place the blender carafe in a sink filled with warm water up to the level of the sauce for 30 minutes to keep warm.

Serves 4 – 6, makes ¾ cup sauce

Here’s a helpful springtime tip: If you eat a lot of asparagus, and are always popping off the woody stems, save them in a plastic bag in the freezer until you have a good bag full.  Use them to make a stock for an asparagus soup, which is a particularly good use for the last-of-the-season spears.

What’s in a name? I have been pondering how to share this recipe for some time now.  It’s a classic I’ve enjoyed my whole life that I’ve always known as carrot pudding.  But I worried that might be a bit misleading. You see, I want people to be intrigued, and to try this recipe, because it is so worth it.  Carrot casserole sounds so boring. I considered calling it a soufflé, but that is a bit grand for this humble dish. So I stuck with pudding.  This is not creamy, cold pudding like the chocolate dessert of childhood.  It’s from a class of Southern traditional dishes, a simple, baked, comforting, homey dish.  I have a repertoire of these puddings.  Corn pudding and chicken pudding and tomato pudding, all savory and all delicious.

But this dish walks the fine line between savory and sweet.  It is usually served as a side dish for a rich meat like pork chops or loin, but I have often had it served as a light luncheon dish for bridal or baby showers.  It is a feature in many of the local community cookbooks around here, and was a regular feature of a certain local caterer for many years.  I have jumped off from those recipes, jazzing things up with a fresh grating of orange zest to add brightness and fresh ginger for zing.  Most recipes I’ve read simply call for “mashed carrots,” and many cooks just boil the carrots and mash them.  But I like to roast them in a little butter to really bring out the carrot flavor and natural sweetness, and I finish in the food processor to speed things up.

Carrot Pudding

2 pounds carrots, peeled (2 yield 2 cups, mashed)

2 Tablespoons plus ½ cup (1 stick) butter, melted

Grated zest of one medium orange

1 Tablespoon grated fresh ginger

1 cup sugar

2 Tablespoons all-purpose flour

3 eggs

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 cup milk

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

¼ teaspoon cloves

Pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Butter a 2-quart baking dish.

Cut the carrot into equally sized chunks, and toss with the 2 Tablespoons melted butter on a large rimmed baking tray.  You just want the carrots slightly lubricated, not greasy or swimming in butter.  Roast the carrots for 30 – 40 minutes, until they are soft, but do not let them brown.

Dump the carrots into the bowl of a food processor and process until you have a rough puree.  You may need to start with half the carrots, then add the rest. You want to end up with 2 heaping cups of puree. Leave the puree to cool.

Grate the orange zest and ginger into the carrot puree and blend.  Add the remaining ½ cup melted butter and the rest of the ingredients, and process until smooth and creamy.  Scrape the mixture into the prepared baking dish.

Bake the carrot pudding until firm in the middle and slightly browned around the edges, about 30 – 40 minutes. Serve immediately.  Leftovers can be reheated in the microwave.

Serves 6 – 8

Italian egg-drop soup.  That’s how I have heard versions of this soup described.  And there appear to be many versions, with light chicken broth, or added spinach or chicken. In fact, the first time I concocted this soup, I didn’t know stracciatella was an actual thing.  It was pure kitchen happenstance, and one little discovery I am glad to have made.

My version of stracciatella is made with roasted vegetable broth that is insanely flavorful and rich.  In fact, the broth is so rich, I originally wanted only the lightest of add-ins, and decided the delicate egg ribbons would give a bit of body without diluting the flavor.  And I hit that nail on the head. Only later did I see a recipe for stracciatella using fresh chicken stock did it occur to me that I had stumbled upon something classic, and could consider my humble little accident a gourmet discovery. The origins of this broth itself were kind of a misstep, a side alley I went down in an attempt at creating a thick vegetable soup.  But this method of roasting the vegetables, then simmering in water with herbs creates a broth so packed with flavor any initial doubts about ”plain old vegetable broth” will disappear.  Besides, the enchanting fragrance of roasting, then simmering, vegetables fills your house with the smell of love and comfort.

I love this broth on its own, sipped out of a mug, particular when feeling a little puny.  It feels fortifying.  Add the delicate threads of egg, and it has an added protein boost and a bit more body.  But this broth is versatile.  Stir in some cooked small pasta like ditalini, acini di pepe, or orzo and it takes on a whole new dimension.

Roasted Vegetable Stracciatella

3 medium onions

5 carrots

5 celery stalks

5 leeks, white and light green parts, cleaned, with a few green leaves reserved

5 medium tomatoes

6 cloves garlic

2 bay leaves

A few sprigs of thyme

A few sprigs rosemary

A handful of celery leaves

8 cups water

4 egg yolks

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Cut the onions into eighths and place in a large rimmed baking sheet.  You may need to use two.  Cut the carrots, celery, leeks into chunks and add to the baking sheet.  Quarter the tomatoes and tuck them into the vegetables, all in one layer.  Place the peeled garlic cloves on top of the vegetables (don’t let the garlic touch the bottom of the tray – it will burn) and drizzle a few tablespoons of olive oil over everything. Roast the vegetables until soft and slightly browned, about 45 minutes.

While the vegetables are cooking, make a bouquet garni with the herbs.  Lay out one or two sections of green leek leaves on the counter, then place the bay leaves, rosemary, thyme and celery leaves on top of the leaves and roll into a tight little cigar.  Tie it up with kitchen twine.

Remove the vegetables from the oven and scrape everything into a large Dutch oven.  Heat the tray on the stove, and deglaze the pan with a little water, scraping up any browned bits or stuck pieces.  Pour this and add it to the soup pot.  Add the bouquet garni. Pour in 8 cups of water, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover the pot and simmer for 45 minutes.

Place a fine mesh strainer over a large bowl and carefully spoon the soup into the strainer.  Press on the solids to extract as much broth as possible.  You will probably have to do this in a couple of batches.  Discard the pressed vegetable pulp.  Rinse out the stock pot. Rinse out the strainer, then line it with two layers of cheesecloth.  Pour the broth through the strainer into the stockpot.  Bring the stock back to a boil.  Season to taste with salt.

Thoroughly whisk the egg yolks in measuring jug with a pouring spout.  When the soup is boiling, reduce the heat to medium and stir it well to get it moving in a circle with a little vortex.  Slowly drizzle the eggs into the swirling broth, running your spoon through the stream to cut little ribbons.

Serve immediately.

Serves 4

Greens on New Year’s Day are an important tradition here in the South. It’s a wish for prosperity in the new year, you see, greens representing the foldin’ money you hope to have in your pocket. Collards are a traditional green and here you can add a little wish for some jangly change in your pocket too with the golden coin-like dumplings. Serve them with some black-eyed peas, and you are in for a year full of good luck.

I know many people who turn their nose up at collards, and I agree that a flavorless collard is not worth the time, so you need to make a nice smoky, porky stock to cook them in, so the greens are well flavored, and the potlikker is mighty tasty too. So here’s a little primer on cooking collard greens. Fresh whole collards are readily available here in the winter. I buy mine at the special Winter Farmers Market, though the good produce stores have them too. A bunch is usually a little bit over a pound. Prepping collards takes a little love, but then doesn’t all good food? I fold my collard leaves in half, cut out the stem from the middle and discard it, the roll up stacks of leaves and cut them into strips, about an inch wide. I drop all these in a big colander and submerge the colander in a sink of cold water. Swirl the greens around, pick up the colander and let the water drain out, then drain the sink and repeat the process three or four times. Shake most of the water off the collards, then they are ready for the pot. Ok, I’ll concede here. Nowadays you can find washed and chopped collards in the bagged salad department at the grocery. I don’t live in your house, so I am not going to know. Though I’d give these a rinse too. If you really can’t find either of these options, look for frozen collards and thaw them according to the package.

Smoked ham hocks are a natural with greens, producing the right smoky pork flavor. You’ll find ham hocks in the smoked meat section of the grocery (usually near the sausage, with the salt pork etc.). Or ask the butcher. I am fortunate to have some really good local farmers that provide naturally smoked ham hocks, which are ideal. Read the labels, some “smoked” hocks really just have smoke flavoring added and these are not very good, as they produce a sort of metallic taste. If you can’t find real smoked ham hocks, use real smoked bacon or hocks that have not been smoked. I love field peas and beans cooked in smoked pork stock, so when I get my hands on some good smoked hocks or bones from smoked ham, I make a big batch of stock (just cooking the meat and water) in a slow cooker and freeze for use whenever I want that great Southern flavor.

So if any of this seems like a lot of work on New Year’s Day, never fear. You can make the pork stock a day ahead (or months, as I said above). Cool and refrigerate the stock with the hocks still in it, then reheat, remove the hocks and proceed. You can prep the collards a day ahead too. Trim, cut and wash them, shake out the water and put them in a plastic bag with the top loosely tied in the crisper drawer.

Corn bread is the traditional accompaniment to greens, but I also like to make a nice golden dumpling to simmer in the luscious potlikker. The dumplings just soak up that flavor.

Green and Gold Collards

For the Collards:

2 nice big hunks of smoked pork hock (about a pound)

8 cups water

1 onion, diced

1 teaspoon red pepper flakes

Lots of fresh ground black pepper

1 bunch of collard greens (a little over a pound), cleaned and cut (see above)

2 Tablespoons cider vinegar

1 Tablespoon sugar

For the Dumplings:

¾ cup all-purpose flour

½ cup yellow cornmeal, preferably stone ground

1 ½ teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup buttermilk

2 Tablespoons shortening or lard, melted

Pepper Vinegar, for serving

For the Collards:

Drizzle a tiny bit of oil in the bottom of a 7- quart Dutch oven and heat over high. Add the ham hocks and brown the sides as best you can. Hocks are a funny shape, so this is not a perfect science. When you’ve got some nice brown, pour in the water and scrape up and any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the diced onion, red pepper flakes and a really nice grinding of black pepper. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, cover the pan and cook for about two hours, until the meat is falling off the bones of the ham hocks. Remove the hocks to a plate.

Turn the heat up under the hock stock, and when it begins to boil, add the greens by big handfuls, stirring each addition until the greens turn bright green before adding the next handful. When all the greens are added, bring the pot to the boil. When the stock is bubbling and the collards are shakin’ in the pot, reduce the heat, cover the pan and cook for 30 minutes.

Mix the vinegar and sugar together, and after the greens have cooked for 30 minutes, stir it into the greens and cover the pot. Continue cooking for about another 15 minutes, but if your collards are not going nice and soft and dark green yet, add 10 more minutes or so until they do. Make the dumplings at the end of that cooking time.

For the Dumplings:

Sift the flour, cornmeal, baking powder and salt into a large bowl. Stir in the buttermilk and melted shortening and stir just until everything is combined and moistened.

Take the top off the collard pot and bring the stock back up to a boil. Drop heaping tablespoons of the dumpling batter into the pot, cover and cook another 15- 20 minutes, until the dumplings are cooked through.

While the dumplings are cooking, pull the meat off the ham hock bones and shred it with a fork, removing any skin. Stir into the collards right before serving. Add a little salt if you want, though that hock does a lot.

When ready to serve, scoop the collards and dumplings into big, deep bowls and spoon over the potlikker. Pass a bottle of pepper vinegar or some hot sauce.

Serves 6

Try this Pink-Eyed Pea Pepper Pot recipe with black-eyed peas if you want a non-pork accompainment to these collards.

I am still waiting for the bounty of spring vegetables to arrive.  It’s almost here, but has not fully taken over, and it’s a few more weeks to the opening of the Farmer’s Market.  So in the meantime, my need for something green leads me back to my favorite way of preparing that old standby, frozen peas.  Fresh mint, crispy, salty pancetta and creamy crème fraiche make this simple preparation as elegant as it is attractive.

Peas with Pancetta, Mint and Crème Fraiche

1 (16 – ounce) bag frozen peas

5 ounces pancetta

4 Tablespoons white wine or vermouth

4 sprigs fresh mint

2 cups chicken broth

7 ounces crème fraiche

sea salt

ground black pepper

Finely chop the mint leaves and set aside.  Dice the pancetta and drop in a sauté pan. Fry the pancetta until crispy.  Remove the pancetta to a paper towel to drain. Add the white wine to deglaze the pan, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan.  Reduce the wine by half. Add the peas to the pan and pour in the chicken broth.  Sprinkle over half of the mint leaves.  Bring to a boil over medium heat and cook uncovered until the liquid is almost completely evaporated and the peas are nicely glazed.  (The peas can hold at this point, covered, for half an hour).

Stir in the crème fraiche and stir gently to coat the peas.  Warm through over medium-low heat.  Stir in the pancetta and remaining mint leaves.  Season with sea salt and ground black pepper

Serve immediately.

Serves 4

So we’ve discussed that Black-Eyed Peas are good luck on New Year’s Day, representing any number of things. Greens are said to bring prosperity in the New Year, largely because they represent foldin’ money.  Many people choose to cook up a mess of collards or turnip greens, but I choose cabbage, for what represents a stack of good green money more than cabbage. And like the black-eyed peas, I include some instructions to help the recipe along.

This is a real trip South, cooking greens with smoked turkey necks, but that lovely smoky flavor makes a real difference.  And it can be a nice departure to cook the greens with turkey if you cook your black-eyed peas with ham.  I find the turkey necks in the smoked meat section of the store (did you know there was a smoked meat section?), where I also find ham hocks, other smoked turkey parts and salt pork and the like.  If you can’t find smoked turkey necks, a smoked ham hock will do.  And when buying the cabbage, look for a whole head with the darker green outer leaves still attached.  You may find these more readily at farmer’s or produce markets, or ask the produce person in the supermarket if they have a head that hasn’t been cleaned up for display. Don’t worry about blemishes, and just rinse off those outer leaves.  The dark green leaves really add color and texture to the finished product.  These greens can be left simmering on the stove for hours, you can even take them off the heat mid-way and then start up again if you get interrupted. If you’d like to pull the meat off the turkey necks and serve it with the cabbage you can, though there won’t be too much meat, or just discard them. If you use a ham hock, I’d definitely serve the meat.

Foldin’ Money Cabbage

I usually find the turkey necks already cut into pieces, so I use about 4 chunks.  Or cut up a whole neck.

1 smoked turkey neck, cut into chunks

½ cup sugar

2 Tablespoons Creole seasoning (I like Tony Chachere’s)

1 head green cabbage, with the dark outer leaves intact

Put four cups of water in a large Dutch oven (5- 7 quart) and add the turkey necks. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, cover and simmer for 30 minutes.  Add the sugar and Creole seasoning, stir, cover and simmer for an additional 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, rinse the cabbage well to clean those outer leaves.  Do not discard the dark green leaves.  Cut the cabbage in half and remove the core from each side.  Slice each cabbage half into thin strips, then cut the strips in half.  Make sure to get the dark outer leaves cut into strips, they tend to fall off when slicing.

Remove the turkey necks and set aside.  Drop in the cabbage strips, shuffling to separate them, into the simmering water.  Give the cabbage a quick stir, then cover the pot and simmer for 20 minutes.  Take off the cover and check that the cabbage is wilted down.  If not, cover again and simmer until it is.  When the cabbage is wilted, cook over medium-low heat with the cover half on the pan for an hour or so until the liquid is reduced to just a little potlikker in the pan.

Makes 4 nice bowls

First off, let me say that this is not my recipe – I don’t think.  I read about this, or someone told me about it, I don’t know.  But it has stuck in my mind for years.  It’s one of those easy ones that you memorize without really meaning to, and then remember when you are wandering aimlessly through the grocery store or farmer’s market wondering what to buy.  This recipe is all about proportion – eight ounces each of four different root vegetables, an onion, some stock and herbs and you are done.  I have made this with all kinds of vegetables, even ones you can buy already cut and prepared.  Extra vegetables that didn’t make it onto another dish also work.  Weigh out your vegetables in the store, making sure to make allowance for peeling and trimming.  The weight of the vegetables are the key here, I have used more or just fudged the weight, but it just doesn’t work, ending up to thick and puree-like.   This really is best right after it’s made.  If you need to keep it and heat it up later, add a little extra stock to thin it out.  But too much extra stock dilutes the flavor.

I usually make this with thyme, but if I happen to have a few sprigs of marjoram around, I’ll throw that in instead.  I absolutely use bought stock unless I happen to have some homemade in the freezer.  Vegetable stock makes this a purely vegetarian meal, but chicken stock is fine if that’s what you have.  The amount here works out to one box and one can.  The color of this soup varies depending on the vegetables you use and the depth of the stock, varying from a creamy yellow to dark burnt umber.  I use my immersion stick blender to puree this, but if you let it cool a bit, then carefully put it in a blender in batches, that works beautifully.  Just remember not to fill the blender more than half full with each batch and hold the top down with a tea towel.

I love this with a dollop of tangy Greek yogurt or a swirl of sour cream.  A sprinkle of feta cheese can add a salty note, which is particularly nice if the soup has that sweet richness of parsnips or carrots.  Freshly toasted croutons, a sprinkle of chopped herbs – even toasted pine nuts can all add another dimension.  But make no mistake, this soup is great completely plain.

Oven Vegetable Soup

8 ounces each of four trimmed root vegetables, such as carrots, leeks, parsnips, celeriac, butternut squash, fennel or turnips

1 medium onion, peeled

48 ounces (6 cups) vegetable stock

1 bay leaf

3- 4 sprigs of thyme, marjoram or oregano

Fresh ground pepper and salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 250 degrees.

Peel, trim and wash the vegetables as necessary.  Chop the vegetables into chunks of about equal size and place in an oven safe Dutch oven, about 5 quarts.  Add the onion, chopped into eighths.  Add the bay leaf and herbs, a pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper.  Pour in the stock.

Bring the soup just to a boil on the stove, then cover and transfer to the oven.  Leave in the oven for three hours. The vegetables will become completely soft.

Remove the pot from the oven, uncover and leave to cool off slightly. Remove the bay leaf and the herb stems. Puree the soup with a stick blender or very carefully in a blender. You can add a small amount of additional stock if you like. Reheat the soup gently over low heat if needed.  Salt to taste.

Serves 6 small bowls or 4 big hearty ones