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Solstice Stone Soup

December 21, 2015 By Lauren

soakedriceToday is Winter Solstice, or Yule, the darkest day or longest night of the year, a major turning point in the wheel of the year for light is beginning to return, the Sun king or Sun goddess or God-like figure, depending on yr vantage, is born again, hallelujah, blessed-be, the darkest hour is here and soon will be gone, will be light.

As it turns out, the darkest hour is b4 the eggnog.

Christmas (celebrated just a mere handful of days after Solstice) is one of those holidays whose more earthly (read: pagan) roots have somehow slipped through the cracks, persisted.  The yule log, the mistletoe, the evergreen branch bespotted w/ trinkets, the orange pin-cushioned w/ cloves, the (yes, really) glass of eggnog; no matter what yr spiritual persuasion, whatever holiday you celebrate come December, you’re probably also enacting some age-old traditions and celebrating (even if unawares) not just birth of deity, but more earthly delights, things specific to this point in the season, when we stop leaning away from the light and start leaning toward it.

navets spinach carrots

What better reason to celebrate and merry-make?!  This Solstice, I’m giving you a most practical gift.  A how-to on soup.  That’s right, soup.  Stone soup.  You know, the kind of soup you can make w/ whatever you have on hand.  The kind of soup that gives new life to a bowl of soaked grains or beans, a bunch of wilting spinach, those few forgotten carrots.  Basic soup.  The kind of soup I imagine simmering in a cast-iron cauldron over an open hearth in a cabin in the mountains centuries ago.  The kind of soup I make in my kitchen almost weekly.  Improvisational soup.  The kind of soup that needs, not a strictly adhered-to recipe, but only some gentle guidance.  Self-love soup.  The kind of soup that is deeply–bone-deep, blood-deep, soul-deep–nourishing.

Winter is officially here and what better gift to give yrself and/or yr loved ones than a bowl of all that?

solsticesoup

Stone Soup How-To:

Preface:  There are two cooking habits to get into groove w/ for maximum stone-souping this Winter.  They couldn’t be easier, but they do require a bit of time and forethought.

Habit #1:  Soak some grains.  And/or beans.

There’s a reason for this blog’s name, y’all.  Getting into the habit of always having a bowl of some grain or bean soaking has made preparing nutritious meals on-ze-fly easy as can be for me.  Simply measure out a cup of whatever grain or bean you haven’t used in a while (I rotate through different varieties of rice, spelt-berries, wheat-berries, barley, polenta, black beans, flageolets, etc., etc.) into a bowl, cover w/ warm water and a splash of something acidic (apple-cider-vinegar, lemon, sauerkraut-juice) and let sit overnight or at least 7 hours.  This deactivates compounds that bind-to and prevent absorption of certain nutrients.  Having a bowl of a grain or bean soaking on yr counter everyday means that you’re eating different whole grains and beans everyday which means that your fiber intake is probably soarin’.  More fiber = better digestive health = better overall health.

Habit #2: Make bone-broth. Lots of it.

Having a freezer full of bone-broth is like having a secret spin-straw-to-gold kind of goblin in yr very own kitchen (and w/o all the weirdness regarding yr first-born).  See my how-to on broth here.

Onto the recipe! I’m detailing the last version of stone soup I made, w/ brown-rice, lots of spinach, carrots, turnips and potatoes, but don’t pay as much attention to the specific ingredients as to the method.  Feel free to make adjustments, substitutions; to improvise as you see fit.

#1.  Dice onions.  I usually use at least one large yellow onion to start my stone-soup.

#2.  Heat large, cast-iron pot on medium heat.  Add big knob of ghee.  Let melt and add onions.  Sprinkle w/ salt and stir.

#3. While onions are cooking, prepare your other vegetables:  mince garlic (I like to use 5+ cloves), dice carrots (usually 2), cube turnips and potatoes (2 of each), chop dark leafy greens (I use the whole bunch.  These will cook down a lot, so don’t be shy).

#4.  Add your vegetables to the pot as they’re ready.  Add more ghee if things are looking dry.  Add salt.  I usually follow the above order (1st garlic, then carrots, and so on).  Stir.

#5.  Drain yr grains or beans.  Add them to the pot.  Stir.

#6.  Add your bone-broth along w/ a bouquet-garni (thyme, sage, rosemary, bay laurel).  If you don’t have enough broth to cover the contents of yr pot, add some water.  Turn heat to high.

#7.  Once pot is boiling, skim away any surface impurities (the foam that rises to the top).  Turn heat to low, put lid on pot and simmer.  Simmer as long as it takes to fully cook yr grain/bean, checking tenderness of vegetables while you go.  For this brown-rice version, it took 40 minutes.  For bean versions it’s taken 1+1/2 hours.

#8.  Ladle up and enjoy w/ drizzle of olive oil, plop of sour-cream, squeeze of lemon, and/or whatever else floats yr vessel.

Yule tidings to ye, and merry stone-souping!

Filed Under: Dinner, Lunch, Plant, Recipes, Seasons, Winter Tagged With: basicsoup, bonebroth, simple, soup, stonesoup, vegetablesoup, winter, wintersoup

Apple-Butter & Living Seasonally

November 23, 2015 By Lauren

appleIt’s that time of year, again.  When, suddenly, we find ourselves submerged, inky hours encroaching, then outnumbering the light ones, begging the answer to the question:  who’s afraid of the dark?

Darkness is what is unseen, what is felt, what lies just beyond the borders of what’s known.  It’s mystery, reflection, emotion, it’s boundless, vast, expansive.  Quiet.  Shrouding, obscuring, shape shifting.  It’s slippery, transformative.  Still.

Pretty frightening stuff, all grouped together like that, if you ask me.

Thankfully, we can avoid all that.  When night comes, we can arm ourselves w/ artificial light.  We can bathe in its various shades–the yellows and whites from lamps and overhead fixtures, the blues from screens; we can string beads of it ’round plastic pine-needles or trimmed hedge; we can shuttle from office to tinsel-strung department store to super-market check-out lane until we no longer notice that it’s dark out, at all.

We can push straight through November and the holiday season to March, to June and back again, maintaining the same pace, the same forward-march, and, what w/ all the Important Things to do during the holiday season–the shopping and cooking and hosting and eating and cleaning–, who has time for such things like being quiet, still?

I’ve been thinking a lot about season rhythms, lately and especially as I read through Jessica Prentice’s wonderful Full Moon Feast.  Her chapter on “The Moon of the Long Nights” is intended, I believe, for December, but I find the longest nights to be those happening now, when the sun rises around 8 and night’s fallen by 5.  I’ve thought a lot about these rhythms before, but always as related to food–digging up ramps in May, fat-slices of tomatoes in August, steaming bowl of pot-au-feu come December–and I had the realization that I’d never deeply considered seasonal living until, like (ahem), just now.

Perhaps the days are getting shorter for a reason, and, perhaps by turning our backs to the dark, and all its implications, we’re missing out on something that comes but once a year.  I’m not talking black friday, or christmas-movie marathons, or 99-cent candy canes.  I’m talking about a long Winter night’s sleep, and all it yields.

Prentice uses anthropologist’s T.S. Wiley’s book Lights Out: Sleep, Sugar and Survival to go delve into this subject.  Wiley posits that the same light that allows for the walk home, the trip to the grocery store, the hot shower long after the sun has set has positioned us all within a sort of perpetual summer, w/ the same shorter nights of sleep and the same disruptive effect on our hormones.

Our pre-agrarian and even some of our agrarian ancestors would have had nearly fourteen hours of sleep during Winter’s long nights.  Somewhere towards the middle, they would have entered a state quite different than the sleep we know.  Due to the release of the hormone prolactin, they entered a state of, as Prentice terms, “quiescent wakefulness,” during which brain-wave readings were shown to be similar to those observed during transcendental meditation.  Wiley writes, “It was in this period of time, which we no longer have access to, that we solved problems, transcended stress and, most likely, talked to the gods.”

Divine communication aside, Wiley’s hypothesis that the body’s–specifically our endocrine system–responses are cyclical just feels right.  I’ve always been drawn to the Hermetic maxim, “As above, so below”, so it serves to reason that our body’s needs would change w/ the seasons.  And while fourteen hour nights are just ever so slightly out-of-reach for most of us (just slightly), a full nine-hour night–or what’s needed to have our hormones functioning w/ ease and grace– is certainly attainable.

The holiday season does everything it can to turn our backs to the dark.  What I really take from Wiley and Prentice is this feeling that it’s okay to turn towards it, to be still, to slow down, to let any personal transformations unfold as they do.  I rarely eat tomatoes after their season because the taste, the texture, the smell, the feeling–it all feels off, wrong.  Maybe having the same expectations of self–of legs to carry me at same quick stride, hands to work at same swift speed, brain to filter in world through same lens–is wrong, too.

This Winter, like Jeannette Winterson, I’m choosing to embrace the night.  To reflect, feel, explore.  To light candles and take long soaks in the tub.  To sleep when I’m tired, even if it’s only 9pm.  To feel fine w/ not staying up later, not doing more, missing out.  To turn inwards.  To rest, even if all other signals are telling me to Shop ‘Til I Drop, Lose 5 Pounds, Find The Perfect Gift, The Perfect Me, and so on.  To take quiet walks in the woods.  To dream.

To make this slow-cooked apple-butter, which is sweet and rich and achingly simple and best enjoyed on one of these darkening Fall nights spread on rye-toast, or slathered on roast chicken or layered on crust of apple pie.

Print
Apple-Butter

Ingredients

  • 1 pound (or 2 kilos) apples, a mix of varieties is lovely but using the same variety will work just as well
  • 1 cup apple-cider, preferably fresh-pressed
  • 1 stick cinnamon, or handful of cardamom pods, or few star anise

Directions

  1. If you have a food-mill:
  2. Chop apples. Add them to sauce-pan w/ cider and spices. Heat on medium-low, stirring all the while, until you've made apple-sauce (20 minutes or so).
  3. Run through food-mill to remove skins + spices. Add to slow-cooker, set heat on low and cook overnight. If you don't have a slow-cooker, you can cook in oven, on low, for 8 hours or so.
  4. If you don't have a food-mill:
  5. Peel apples. Then follow all above steps, making sure to remove spices before adding apple-sauce to slow-cooker/oven.
  6. Spoon into sterilized glass jars. Keep refrigerated and enjoy it within the month.
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Filed Under: Fall, Fruit, Plant, Recipes, Seasons, Sides

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