Minestrone alla Genovese

Soup season is upon us. London has been a resolutely slate-grey monochrome for the past few days and my breath comes out in foggy clouds, reminding me of those cigarettes I so loved, now given up. Soup can be terribly boring though; those uniformly smooth one-dimensional bore-fests are enough to have you in a right depression. Add some texture though and the bowl is transformed.

Minestrone is a typical Italian soup; I'm most used to it being very tomato-heavy, almost like a thick chunky stew. It is mostly made of whatever vegetables are in season though much of its flavour comes from the broth it is cooked in.

This particular recipe omits to tomatoes, favouring instead the clean pure broth from simmered pork bones and aromatics. Vegetables are added for a brief cooking so that they still retain a bit of bite, though my beloved cavolo nero are given a long, slow cooking for ultimate silkiness. Cannellini beans and ditaloni pasta bulk the soup out and thicken it ever so slightly. I couldn't help but add a hefty tablespoon of a roughly bashed pesto, that heady aniseed from the basil and salty pecorino adding another layer of flavour and a Ligurian twist.

Minestrone alla Genovese

Serves 4

1 large pork shank
4 carrots
4 stalks of celery
1 onion
2 bay leaves
150gr dried cannellini or borlotti beans soaked overnight
200gr ditaloni (I bought this at the Turkish Food Centre) or any other soup pasta, or even rice
1 large courgette
4 stalks of cavolo nero
3 cloves of garlic
1 head of fennel

For the pesto:

A handful of basil leaves
Half that of parsley
A couple table spoons of extra virgin olive oil
50gr of pecorino
Salt & pepper

Boil the beans in plain water for 10 minutes, then drain. To make the broth, blanch the pork shank in boiling water for 5 - 10 minutes, then rinse and wash the pot out thoroughly. Add to fresh pot of water to cover the shank and add the onion, quartered with the bay leaves, 2 of the carrots and 2 stalks of celery. Add the beans in. Dice the rest of the carrots and celery and set aside.

Simmer for 4 or so hours.

Your beans should be nice and tender by now. Fish out the onion, carrots and celery and bay leaves and discard. Strip the fat and skin off the shank and discard. Strip the meat off and chop roughly, discard the bones. Divide the pork meat into four bowls. In another pan, heath a little oil and add the garlic, minced. Add the fennel, roughly chopped with plenty of salt, and when tender add the broth and beans back in. Simmer the broth and beans with the cavolo nero for 10 minutes, then add the reserved diced celery and carrot. Dice the courgette and add this in with the ditaloni. Simmer for a further 10 or so minutes until it is all tender and take off the heat.

To make the pesto, chop basil and parsley finely. Mix well with the olive oil, then grate the cheese finely and add this in to make a rough sauce. Season to taste.

Divide the soup between bowls and top with the pesto.

Korean Kimchi Stew

I first came across Soondoobu Jiggae (or, soft tofu stew to me and you) at Koba, on Charlotte Place. A bubbling stew in a hot stone pot, it as packed with little clams, silky soft tofu and the punchy heat of kimchi. Further exploration with my chopsticks revealed a perfectly poached egg in the broth.


I've been fairly obsessed with it ever since, and I even purchased myself a dolsot (above, the stone pot you cook the stew in). Now, whenever I feel under the weather COUGH hungover COUGH my thoughts turn to kimchi stew. It's the spiciness with the comfort of the accompanying rice and that egg spilling its golden yolk into the soup, enriching further mouthfuls - it has magical healing properties.

I've made this with various types of kimchi - ponytail radish works well, but cabbage kimchi is more readily available. Sadly I can't often find clams so more often than not I leave them out and instead I add whatever random vegetables I have in the fridge.

Kimchi Stew

Serves 1

3 tbsp kimchi + 1 tbsp kimchi juice
1 small red chilli (optional if you're a chilli head)
2 tsp Korean chilli paste (gochujang) - you can get this at your local Asian supermarket
1 tsp minced garlic
1 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp light soy sauce
200gr soft tofu
1 stalk of spring onion
1 egg

For the broth:
3" square piece of kombu
4 dried anchovies
300mls water
A small handful of bonito flakes

(Or substitute the above with ready made dashi stock)

Heat the water with the kombu and dried anchovies in until it is simmering. Then take off the heat and add the bonito flakes. Leave for 15 minutes and then strain.

Heat the sesame oil in a dolsot or a saucepan. Fry the minced garlic in the oil for a few minutes. Add the chilli paste and the kimchi, then add the dashi broth and soy sauce. Simmer for 25 minutes, then add the tofu and simmer for a further 5 minutes. Break an egg into the stew and simmer for another 3 minutes - if you're using a stone pot you can take this off the heat now. Top with the spring onion. Put it on a chopping board / heat proof mat. Serve with a bowl of steamed rice.

Pea & Courgette Soup

I'll admit it's not the most innovative or the most interesting of recipes, but it is one of the tastiest soups I've made and I think I achieved this through laziness. That's quite a feat and one that should be celebrated.

I've started a training course for work that means that I don't get home until 9:30pm every Tuesday night, and coupled with inviting friends round for dinner the following night, I thought I best make some preparation towards it lest I keep my guests hanging around for ages waiting for their soupy starter. No one likes waiting for food. So I half heartedly chopped a few courgettes, lobbed in a few bits and bobs and then blitzed it roughly before flopping in front of some guilty pleasure TV.

This resulted in a fresh and vibrant soup - the peas going in raw and barely cooking them makes it so - and from the happy murmurings from my guests, I almost abandoned the main course and served a second helping instead.

Pea & Courgette Soup

Serves 6 as a starter or 3 as a main with bread

3 large courgettes
1 fat or 2 smaller cloves of garlic
500gr petit pois, frozen - this seems a lot but it's a thick, chunky soup
A sprinkle of paprika per bowl
5 big mint leaves
3 basil leaves
100gr manchego, chopped into small chunks
1 tbsp olive oil
1 chicken or vegetable stock cube (or home-made stock if you have any)
1.5l water

In a large pan heat the oil and add the garlic, stewing slowly while you chop the courgettes into even chunks. Add the courgettes, then the stock cube and water. Simmer for a few minutes until the vegetables are still al dente (this depends really on how large you chopped the courgettes). Take off the heat and add the peas. Leave for 10 minutes. Go for a wee, have a sit down, make a cup of tea, that sort of thing.

Chop the mint and throw in. Blitz roughly (unless you like smooth soups, oddball). When serving, heat gently till just simmering. Taste for salt and pepper. Add evenly the chunks of manchego into each bowl, then add the soup. Serve topped with basil finely minced and a sprinkle of paprika.

Pork & Winter Melon Soup

When I was a kid a simple snack after school would be some plain boiled meat dipped in soy sauce. On rare occasions, if it was a casual dinner in front of the TV this would be supplemented with a bowl of rice and some greens for a full meal. My sister and I would clash chopsticks over the most tender morsel and soy sauce would inevitably splash as I dived in, piece after piece. It sounds dull, but it was homely food, comforting in its simplicity.

The boiled meat was a result of the cauldron of soup. This soup is made for the family mealtimes to supplement several dishes served, and is usually a clear broth made by simmering pork or chicken with some Chinese aromatics.

Unless you live near a Chinese supermarket, this type of soup is going to be pretty inaccessible so I apologise in advance. I also apologise if you do make it and you are expecting big flavours which are typical of my recipes; this it is not. Clean and nourishing, the soup with the many dishes you eat at a Chinese dinner is designed to cleanse the palate and aid digestion. The various herbs used all are said to have unique nourishing properties.

I bought a packet of soup herbs neatly separated off into sections, and from what I can gather it consisted of dried red dates (jujubes), astragalus (!), dried goji berries, dang gui (?!) and fox nuts. I only recognise them by sight but before you start backing off, wondering what the hell I've gotten you into, this nifty guide shows you what they are and what they look like. They add various notes to the soup, from a slight medicinal aniseed twang to sweetness.

Often chunks of carrot are dropped into the soup to simmer with the meat to add sweetness, but my favourite vegetable is winter melon. It is sold already cut and wrapped in clingfilm, labelled 'tong gua'. The dark skin is peeled off, seeds in the middle discarded and the flesh cubed and simmered with the meat. Much like our beloved daikon, the melon takes on a mellow flavour (i.e. of not much) and becomes soft, silky and juicy in the mouth. I love it. The Chinese believe the winter melon has cooling properties, so we ate it a lot if we ever had bouts of rich, fatty or deep fried food. If you can't get hold of any, daikon is a good substitute.

Meat should be on the bone for maximum flavour. I favour pork or chicken for these types of soup; beef and lamb can be just too strongly flavoured.

Having just read this post back I haven't sold this poor soup very well. But it really does do the trick; feeling run-down, tired and a little jaded from over-indulgence, this soup revived my spirits.

Pork & Winter Melon Soup

Serve 4 as part of a Chinese meal, or 2 servings on its own

300gr meaty pork on the bone - I used hock
300gr daikon, white turnip or winter melon
A handful of dried goji berries (ones from health shops are usually sweetened for snacking - check they aren't if you buy them there)
An assortment of Chinese herbs, as detailed above - A small handful of each
Soy sauce, to taste

Bring a pot of water to boil and blanch the pork hocks for a few minutes. Chuck the water out and rinse the hocks and the pan - this reduces the scum that rises to the surface. Place the hocks back in and cover just with water - you want about half a litre - bring to a gentle simmer. Put half of the soup herbs in and simmer gently for 2 hours with the lid half on.

Remove the hocks and strain the stock into a saucepan. Remove the meat from the hocks and set aside, discarding all the fat and sinew. Add the bitesize chunks of which ever vegetable you use plus the rest of the stock ingredients and place the lid on. Winter melon will take less time (around 15 minutes) than turnip (around 30 mins).

Towards the end, add the meat back in to warm. Serve with a few drops of soy sauce for seasoning.

Shu Castle

The Old Kent Road has long been a bit of a mystery to me. I often catch buses trundling along, depositing me at my flat at the end of it, and as I gaze upon rows and rows of derelict-looking shops, I'm struck by what a shit-hole most of it is. But a diamond shines in the rough, as we found out when we visited Shu Castle on Friday night. I suspect it is part of Dragon Castle nearby, our stalwart dim sum joint and when we arrived it was almost full.



A short, neat menu with pictures of dishes was presented to us, and I was surprised to find most of the usual crowd-pleasing dishes were missing. It was Sichuan only and this pleased me. After much panic and self-restraint, we settled on a few dishes. Firstly, century eggs with sliced green chillis was doused with sesame oil and was super spicy. The eggs aren't as terrifying as they look; being buried in alkaline clay gives them that appearance, but they are creamy and mild.



Sliced chicken in chilli oil was cold yet mouth-warming. The chicken flesh was firm but tender, the skin pleasingly gelatinous.



White gourd and sliced pork soup was not made with winter melon as I thought it would be, but rather Chinese turnip (daikon). Simple and cleansing, it reminded me of soups my grandmother served when I was a child, at the start of the meal to aid digestion. I found it quite addictive.



Pickled green beans with pork and chilli was a vast portion and the tangy greens mixed with the savoury pork was perfect mixed into our bowls of rice. The beef in chilli came with a warning from our waitress, but we soldiered on. Strips of beef were velveted and as a result were really tender, bobbing around in a broth that was distinctly lacking in Sichuan peppercorn numbness but more than made up for it in chilli punch. A dish of boiled dumplings with chilli oil were slightly dull.



With service, food the three of us and a few beers each reached the grand total of £76 big ones. A total bargain really, especially as I got to take the leftover minced pork and pickled green beans to mix it with some steamed rice and top with a fried egg the next day. A very decent lunch indeed.



I sense a return visit in my very near future, mainly to try the shrimp in salted egg yolk and the crispy sea bass dishes. Oh! And they have a hot plate embedded into the tables. Steamboat ahoy. The toilets are disgusting though.



Shu Castle



194 Old Kent Road,

London,

SE1 5TY



Tel: 020 7703 9797

Summer Ham & Orzo Soup

When I think of smoked ham hocks, I think of rich meaty stews, pies topped with golden pastry, spoons digging into steaming dishes and inducing food comas immediately afterwards. In this current muggy weather it's not an appealing thought. The freezer needed clearing out for yet more ice cream though, and the ham hock was taking up precious space, so I had to think on my feet.

Ham hocks are really the gift that keep on giving. Tender meat shreds well off the bone and the poaching liquid is beautifully meaty. As it simmered away merrily filling up the flat with smells akin to bacon, I decided to make the most of the richly flavoured broth and came up with this soup. With a few vegetables simmered in it, the flavours were clean and summery, enlivened with the addition of a spoonful of basil, parsley and Pecorino puree, turning my bowl into an algae-green.

And I've still got some ham hock left to make a pie. A summery pie.

Summer Ham & Orzo Soup

Serves 2 with leftovers

1 smoked ham hock - soak overnight in water, to remove some saltiness.
2 bay leaves
3 sticks of celery
4 black peppercorns
2 onions

Cover the ham hock with water and add the above; simmer on a very low heat for 2 hours. Remove the hock; discard the skin and fat, the flesh should just flop off the bone. Strain the stock and skim off the fat.

100gr orzo, cooked separately
1 courgette, cut into batons
1 carrot, diced
1 plum tomato, skinned, seeded and diced
300ml

Warm up the stock and add the carrot. Simmer for 5 minutes, then add the courgette, simmering for a further 10 mins. Take off the heat and add the orzo and the tomato to warm through. Add a quenelle of the herb puree (below) to finish.

A large handful of basil
Half that of parsley
A squeeze of lemon
A clove of garlic
A handful of grated Pecorino, or Parmesan

Whizz the above in a blender until nicely emulsified.

Thai Sour Fish Curry

I call it a curry but really it's more like a soup. I've been craving sour things recently, that bite of lime or tamarind and blazing heat on the tongue. I also have a habit of picking up new and unknown vegetables, and it just so happened that the 'bai yor' I bought on impulse is perfect for Thai fish curries. Thus a plan fell into place.

Firstly, a spicy curry paste is made. Various vegetables are simmered with stock and said curry paste, and the final touch is to blitz just-cooked white fish into flakes, then add it to the soup for essential fish flavour, texture and to thicken it up a bit. I used the cheapest white fish I could find for this, coley; alternatively, you could just drop chunks of white fish in to poach. The bai yor leaves go in last for a final simmer; they act like spinach and wilt down, adding a slightly bitter flavour to the dish. It's fine to leave out if you can't find it.

Sour Fish Curry

Serves 2

For the paste

5 red birds eye chillis
5 dried chillis
2 stalks of lemongrass, soft innards only
1 inch piece of galangal
2 tbsp tamarind paste
1 small onion
6 cloves of garlic
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt

Soften dried chillis in hot water. Deseed the chillis and blitz with the rest of the ingredients into a fine paste. You may need to add a little oil.

10 prawns
200gr white fish
A handful of green beans
A few leaves of Chinese cabbage
A few bai yor leaves (optional)
2 tbsp fish sauce
1 lime
300mls fish or chicken stock
A handful of coriander, chopped

In a pan, add the curry paste and fry gently for a few minutes. Add the stock and the Chinese cabbage, then then green beans cut into inch long pieces. Simmer for a few minutes. Either add the fish in chunks or cook the fish separately and blitz into flakes, then add to the soup. Add the bai yor, fish sauce, then the prawns and cook until the prawns turn pink and take off the heat immediately. Serve with a wedge of lime and rice, if desired.

Hainan Chicken Rice

Though Hainan chicken rice would suggest the dish is Chinese, it's massively popular in Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand. A lot of people don't get the point of it, and I don't blame them; essentially, it is just whole poached chicken. Chicken with flabby skin. But it's so much more. The chicken, poached till just done gets a plunging in an ice bath, making the skin and flesh firm and bouncy. The resultant broth is served along side garlicky rice cooked in a little chicken fat, a gingery chilli sauce enlivening and colouring the plate. So simple, but so comforting and delicious.

I grew up on this dish, and the best version to this date was at The Shangri-La hotel in Singapore, aged around 8. I remember it vividly, the silken grains of rice flavoured liberally with chicken fat, the broth soothing.


I haven't seen many versions in London; the one nearest in Croydon serves the dish without broth, a heresy in my view. So I decided to make it myself.

Hainan Chicken Rice

Serves 4

1 whole chicken (mine was 1.2kg)
5 spring onions
5 slices of ginger, about an inch thick
A few handfuls of flaked salt, not table salt
Enough water to cover the chicken in a pot

Firstly, get the handfuls of salt and exfoliate the chicken. Yes. Grab the salt and rub the skin vigourously to get rid of any pimply feathery bits. Rinse the chicken. Stuff the spring onions and garlic into the cavity. Put into the stockpot with the water and bring to the simmer, skimming off any scum that accumulates. Simmer gently for 35 - 45 mins for a chicken of my size. Remove and plunge immediately into an iced bath. This stops the cooking process and makes the flesh nice and firm.

For the rice:

400gr rice
3 cloves of garlic
1" of ginger
1 stalk of spring onion

In a frying pan, heat some oil and add the ginger and garlic, minced. Fry slowly until fragrant. Bung into your rice cooker with your rice and use the chicken stock, trying to get as much chicken fat in as possible, to cook it. Or use whatever method you do to cook rice. When done, sprinkle with chopped spring onion.


Chilli sauce

6 mild red chillis, 1 burn-your-face-off hot chilli
2 inches of ginger
4 cloves of garlic
Juice of 1 lime
A pinch of salt

Place the above in a whizzer and whizz til smooth.

To serve; chop up the chicken with the bones and all and serve with a bowl of rice, a little chilli sauce, and a bowl of broth.

I got snazzy new crockery sent to me by Ink Dish. Aint it pretty?

A Hot & Sour Soup

Not the prettiest of dishes, I'll give you that. But it was definitely tasty, spicy as hell and it felt nourishing. That extra soft tofu made a reappearance (I confess, I'm quite addicted to it) and its wibbly chunks, bobbing around in the fiery soup packed with vegetables slid down easily.

It's not the most traditional recipe, given I used random things I found in the fridge, but as long as you get that sour-spicy balance, I think that's fine. An egg, cracked into the soup and left for a few minutes to set enriched it and was a riff on whisked egg, usually drizzled slowly while the soup is cooking.

Hot & Sour Soup

Serves 2

100gr extra soft tofu
4 dried shiitake mushrooms
A handful of dried woodear mushrooms
1 small tin of bamboo shoots
Some form of greenery - I used courgette batons
1.5 tbsp chilli bean paste
300ml pork stock
1 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tsp cornflour
3 tbsp Chinese black vinegar
1 garlic clove
1" of ginger
1 red chilli
A pinch of sugar
2 spring onions
A handful of coriander
A drizzle of sesame oil
2 eggs

To start, boil some water and soak the mushrooms in it. Slice the bamboo stalks into thin matchsticks and set aside. Prepare your greenery. Heat a little oil and fry the garlic and ginger until fragrant. Add the chilli bean paste, fry for a few minutes and then add the pork stock. Set on a very light simmer.

Meanwhile, mince the coriander and slice the spring onions diagonally. Drain the mushrooms and shred the woodear. Cut the stalk out of the shiitake mushrooms and chop roughly. Add to the pork stock. Put the tofu carefully into the pork stock in chunks. Add the greens whenever so that they cook properly, then add the Chinese black vinegar and sugar. Taste and add more vinegar if necessary. In a bowl, mix up the soy sauce with the cornflour. Add this last and simmer till thickened slightly, then take off the heat.

To serve, ladle the soup carefully into each bowl and garnish with coriander, chopped red chilli, spring onion and finally crack an egg into the broth. Cover with a plate for a few minutes until the egg is set, then eat.

Street Food in Bangkok

We found it fairly difficult to find street food that weren't noodle soups in Bangkok. This was no bad thing; we often started our day with a bowl of thick, hor-fun noodles and a choice of duck or goose. Chillis steeped in fish sauce and a little deep fried garlic ensured we'd be carried through till lunchtime. But where were all these som tams, the laab salads, and curries galore? Perhaps we didn't look hard enough; after our binge in Penang our palates were a touch jaded.

But what a way to liven up the tastebuds with a searingly hot seafood salad (above). Raw prawns, squid and little clams were selected from a big tray of ice and dumped briefly in boiling water, before being fished out and then added to a plate. Tomatoes, strips of raw onion, lime, fish sauce and garlic are pounded in a pestle and mortar, then added to the seafood. It was a slow-building heat, leading to proper fire in the mouth.

Our first night saw us meeting up with @NicolaChilton for some street-side eats. It's always great to be taken around a new place by a local, even though you've never met before and Nicola took us for some cracking pork noodles. We then headed off to Soi 38 off Sukumvit, to sample Pad Thai cooked ferociously in a wok, packed full of vegetables and allegedly made with condensed milk. The vegetables had a great crunch and a lovely, smoky flavour to it, without the sticky sweetness you get in London Thai restaurants.

We finished off with sticky rice and mango. The mango was soft and deliciously sweet, while the intensely coconut flavoured rice was light, not like the dense, rich examples I was used to. Outstanding eats.

Another food highlight of our trip was stumbling upon a street food vendor near the Khao San Road. Not a word of English was spoken, and in the end we resorted to pointing at another table's food with a thumbs up. A pork laab, heavy on the shallots and topped with toasted crunchy rice was accompanied with a little plastic bag of sticky rice. Tom yum soup, also with pork, came as a big vat. Sour, spicy and savoury all at once, it was as good as I've ever had it.

Staggering around Chatuchak Market with a raging hangover was pretty painful. The biggest open air market in Asia, it was heaving and hot. I took refuge at a bright cafe, and all they served were Isaan-style salads and Thai sausages. Deep fried chicken tossed with shredded papaya, chilli and limes took the edge off the Sangsom head I was sporting.

It wasn't all good. Intrigued by the 'broccoli and mozzerella pie' and the dessert 'corn pie' in McDonald's, we ordered both to try out. Both were fucking disgusting. We weren't hugely surprised.

Purple Seaweed, Tofu & Pickled Mustard Green Soup

Often when I have a great dish out I attempt to recreate it at home. Fortuitously, immediately after I had this soondoobu jiggae at Koba, Meemalee's Kitchen posted a recipe for it. I hot footed it to the Korean shop and made it with great success.

I had some lovely extra soft tofu left though and wondered what to do with it. Various websites told me to make vegan mayonnaise. Bleugh. Instead, it went into this soup.

Pork bones were simmered slowly, with a few chunks of winter melon thrown in. Winter melon is one of those vegetables that don't taste of much at all, but it's cooked flesh is juicy and soft, yielding a textural element. Purple seaweed tastes... seaweedy, as you might expect, and chunks of extra soft tofu broken into it are jelly-like. Pickled mustard greens provide that essential contrasting crunch to the slimy delicate wobbliness of it all. I've made that sound very unappealing, and perhaps it is if you're squeamish with textures, but if you're not, get cracking with it. After a serving my stomach claimed it was full, but I couldn't resist another bowlful.


Purple Seaweed, Tofu & Pickled Mustard Green Soup

Serves 2

500ml pork bone broth
100gr winter melon (turnips of daikon would also work well)
1 carrot
A handful of dried purple seaweed (you can buy this at your local Chinese supermarket)
2 tsp chilli bean paste
100gr extra soft tofu
4 tbsp pickled mustard greens, sliced finely
2 slices of ginger
Soy sauce to taste
2 spring onions

Soak the pickled mustard greens in water to remove some of the saltiness. Heat a scant tablespoon of oil in a saucepan and fry the chilli bean paste until fragrant. Add the broth and simmer with ginger, chunks of melon and carrot, chopped to even sizes, for 15 - 20 minutes. Soak the seaweed in cold water for 5 minutes and then drain. Drain the mustard greens and add them. Simmer for 5 mins, then add the seaweed and the tofu, breaking the tofu into chunks carefully. Add soy sauce to taste and then serve with the spring onion chopped and scattered on top.

A Lobster Bisque

Last week we dispatched some lobsters. I'd like to say we did it humanely, but we dropped them straight into that bubbling pan. Sorry.


The meat was delicious. Sweet and tender, dipped into home made mayonnaise I preferred it to the clarified butter. Little legs were sucked of any meat within and we sprayed ourselves with viscera extracting every morsel. Hunks of bread were also slathered with mayonnaise and we pondered over what lucky sods we were.


None of it should go to waste though; any juices lost on pulling out the meat was collected in a baking tray. The leftover shells went into a huge stock pot with the juices and along with carrot, onion, celery, bay and herbs this was simmered for a few hours, to be turned into a light bisque. The resultant soup, finished off with cream had a strong hit of the seaside. Heavy on the lobster flavour, it was the perfect use for what is usually just destined for the bin. Had we had any lobster meat leftover it would have been good to add that too, but really - who has leftover lobster meat?


Lobster Bisque

Serves 4

The shells of 3 lobsters
1 onion
2 carrots
2 sticks of celery
A few peppercorns
2 bay leaves
A handful of parsley
A few sprigs of thyme
Enough water to cover the above
2 tbsp tomato puree
1 potato, diced (optional)
70ml double cream
A good glug of brandy

Get all the aromatics in the pot with the lobster shells and bring to the simmer. Simmer for a good few hours with the lid off, topping up with more water to cover half way through. After about 3 hours, strain it and then reduce by at least half - taste every so often and when it's deep enough in flavour, it's done. If you like a thicker soup, add the potato 30 minutes before you finish and then puree the soup.

Turn it on low, add the tomato puree stirring well, and then add the brandy. Simmer off the alcohol and then add the cream, stirring well. Garnish with a few leaves of parsley (I also added some slivered leeks but that's optional) and serve.

Thai Rice Soup

A common brunch when I was growing up was Thai rice soup. Made with cold cooked leftover rice, it was a bracing meal. Handfuls of coriander would be lobbed in and spoonfuls of fish sauce, studs of raw garlic and chopped birds eye chillis bobbing around, would splash into our bowls. It was guaranteed to make you whiff a bit for the rest of the day. Limes would squirt with abandon as we seasoned and tasted our dishes, adding bits of this and that as we went along, to suit our tastes.I would eat bowlful after bowlful of it, the delicately flavoured stock filling me up nicely. The pictures don't really do it justice, given it looks like murky dishwater with bits of greenery floating atop.

Prawns are a luxury-around-payday treat, but commonly balls of minced pork, seasoned with white pepper and salt are be dropped into the broth to cook instead. You could be ultra decadent and do both.


Thai Rice Soup

Serves 2

150gr (uncooked weight) rice, cooked and cooled preferably overnight
350ml water
A couple of handfuls of raw prawns, shell and heads on
1 stick of lemongrass
1/2 inch piece of galangal
3 kaffir lime leaves
4 tbsp fish sauce
1 fat clove of garlic
2 red birds eye chillis
2 limes
2 tbsp Tianjin preserved vegetable (not very Thai, but I like it)
A handful of coriander
A few cherry tomatoes, halved

Deshell the prawns and place the shells and the heads in the water with the lemongrass, galangal and kaffir lime leaves, roughly chopped. Bring to the simmer and simmer very gently for 20 minutes. Strain and reserve.

Meanwhile, crush the garlic roughly and add to the fish sauce in a bowl with the juice of half a lime. Chop the chillis up and add them too, giving it a good stir. Chop the coriander and add to another bowl. Rinse the preserved vegetable.

Bring the stock up to the simmer and add the rice, breaking it up with your hands as you add it in. Simmer for 2 minutes. Add the prawns and as soon as they turn pink, take off the heat and add the cherry tomatoes. Ladle the soup into bowls, scatter the preserved veg in equally and serve with the coriander, fish sauce mixture and the rest of the lime cut into wedges to add as you please.

Thai Seafood Noodle Soup

'Detox' is a filthy word in my house. I envisage shots of wheatgrass, advertised on brightly coloured billboards outside organic 'food' outlets that litter the streets of Soho, promising health and vitality but in reality make you retch. TV ads tell us to eat sugar-laden cereal twice a day of our miserable lives for two whole weeks to drop a jean size and for our tastebuds to take mutiny. People keep smirking at me: "not resolving to give up smoking this year then?" as if it's any of their business.

I'll have to be honest though, by 2nd January I felt like I needed to do something close to a detox. I had food fatigue; usually an idea of dinner is planned as soon as lunch is out the way, but instead I found myself standing in front of the fridge, agape and unable to figure out what to put in my over-indulged face.

But there's always something. There's Tom Yum soup; a spicy, salty, sour broth that wakes you up a bit. I knew this would be the very thing to cure me.

With the addition of some slurpy noodles, some flavour-soaked Chinese lettuce & turnip and a handful of prawns and squid, a light yet hearty dinner was made and my desire to eat returned to its rightful owner.

The key to the soup base is nam prik pao, a mild, smoky chilli sauce. I made a jar of it from this recipe over a year ago - I'm only half way through the jar and it's still going strong, kept in a dark cupboard (take THAT, use-by dates!). It's well worth making your own, though you can also buy it in Asian supermarkets. The beauty of Tom Yum soup is that you can keep galangal, lemongrass, lime leaves and even chillis in the freezer. If you need an emergency fix, coriander and limes are all you need to trek to the shops for.

Thai Seafood Tom Yum Noodle Soup

Serves 1

300mls water or light fish stock
A handful of raw prawns
2 squid tubes with tentacles
1 inch of galangal, sliced
1 stick of lemongrass
2 birds eye chillis (or less, if you're sensitive)
3 lime leaves
1 clove of garlic
1/2 a lime
1 tsp palm sugar (or just regular sugar)
2 tbsp fish sauce
3 leaves of Chinese lettuce (alternatively you could use pak choi, or Chinese / tenderstem broccoli)
A few slices of daikon or turnip
1 spring onion, sliced on the diagonal
A handful of coriander, chopped
A sprig of mint, leaves removed and sliced finely
100gr rice noodles (I used fresh hor fun, but dried also work)
1 1/2 tsp nam prik pao

Set the water or stock on to simmer and add the galangal. Chop the lemongrass roughly and add with the chillis, halved, the garlic lightly bashed and 2 of the lime leaves, torn. Simmer this for 20 minutes. Cut the squid into rings.

Meanwhile, set a pan of water on to boil. Add the turnip or daikon and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove and set to one side. Add the Chinese lettuce and rice noodles, simmer until cooked and drain and add to a deep bowl.

Drain the soup stock into another saucepan and add the turnip / daikon slices with the last remaining torn up lime leaf and the sugar. Simmer for a few minutes for the vegetable to absorb the flavour of the soup, then throw in the prawns and squid. When they're cooked, add to to the noodles and lettuce. Squeeze the lime juice over the dish, add the fish sauce (or to taste) and garnish with coriander, spring onion and mint.

Chicken & Mograbieh Soup

Another great thing about roasting a chicken is all the peripheral bits you get from it. The carcass, stripped of all it's meat simmers in a pot of water with some flavourings to create the perfect soup base or stock. Any leftover meat (usually the breast in our house) makes a good sandwich or pie filler, but this time I decided it was to go back in the soup.

One day when I was exploring my neighbouring Peckham, I chanced upon a bag of moghrabieh. It's a giant couscous from the Middle East and I grabbed it immediately. Of course, it was soon forgotten about when I couldn't think of something to do with it immediately. However, while my stock was simmering and I was looking through my over-stuffed cupboard of pastas, lentils and pulses, it sprang back to mind.

A few (of what I think are) Middle Eastern flavours created this light yet warming soup. Broth-like in base, the moghrabieh rolled around the mouth pleasingly and gave the soup body and texture. A spicy roasted red pepper relish added colour and vibrancy and the iron-rich spring greens gave it an almost Christmassy look.

Chicken & Mograbieh Soup

Serves 2

1 chicken carcass
1 carrot
1 onion, halved
1 stalk of celery (or 1lt of good chicken stock instead of the above 4 ingredients)
3 green cardamom pods
4 cloves
1 stick of cinnamon
A pinch of saffron
100gr moghrabieh (you can buy this in Turkish shops)
A large handful of cooked chicken meat
A handful of wintry greens, shredded

For the roasted red pepper relish:

2 red peppers
1 clove garlic
1 spring onion
20gr parsley
2 red chillis
1 tsp lemon juice
Salt
2 tbsp dry breadcrumbs

Place the chicken carcass in a large stock pot with the carrot, celery, onion, cinnamon, and cloves. Bash the cardamom with the side of your knife and add it in. Simmer for at least 3 hours and strain. Alternatively, simmer the spices in some good-quality chicken stock for half an hour. Halve the red peppers and rub with oil. Place under a high grill and cook until blistered and blackened. Place in a bowl and cover with cling film, leave for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, put a pan of water on to boil. Add the moghrabieh and simmer for 15 - 30 minutes - most recipes on the web say 20 mins but I found mine took more like 40, so keep trying it. When tender, drain and rinse with cold water.

Peel the skin off the peppers and chop finely. Place in a sieve for the water to drain out. Chop the parsley, chillis, garlic and spring onion. Place in a food processor or a pestle and mortar and pound to a paste with the salt. Add the red pepper and lemon juice and carry on pestling. Finally, add the bread crumbs and stir well.

To serve, boil the greens briefly in a little water. Add the moghrabieh to the sieved hot stock and simmer for a minute. Ladle into deep bowls, top with the chicken and the greens, and finally garnish with the roasted red pepper relish.

So, what else can I do with moghrabieh (and how to pronounce it)? Please share any favourite recipes you have.

Sweetcorn Soup

Ah, winter. I've never seen so much snow in my life as I did this morning. Of course, it didn't help that I wasn't at home - I had a 1 hour tube journey (usually 20 mins), a 45 minute boat ride and then a 3 mile walk home. It took me the best part of 4 hours. Granted, I did get to walk through Greenwich Park and see all the kids squeal as they went down hills in sleds, but it certainly didn't help that I was in Converse trainers, the most inappropriate footwear for snow.

So when I got home, my poor little toes were frozen through. I needed sustenance, and I needed it quick, so what better than a hearty bowl of soup?

Most people will have had chicken and sweetcorn soup at the local Chinese restaurant, and this recipe is loosely based around this, but I think it's more flavoursome and less gloopy. Sweetcorn is a favourite of mine - especially steamed on the cob, slathered in butter, salt and a light sprinkle of chilli flakes, or even a squeeze of lime. The egg in the soup isn't entirely necessary, but it makes it lovely and rich.

Sweetcorn Soup

Serves 2

1 can of creamed corn (you can buy this in Tescos, or the local Oriental supermarket)
150mls vegetable stock
200gr frozen sweetcorn
1 large shallot, thinly sliced
1 spring onion, sliced on the diagonal
Small bunch of coriander, chopped
Pinch of white pepper
Pinch of chilli flakes
Sprinkle of sesame seeds
Splash of soy sauce
1 egg
1 tsp cornflour, slakened

In a saucepan, heat some oil and fry the shallot until softened. Add the vegetable stock, then the creamed corn, and the sweetcorn. Simmer gently for 10 - 15 minutes. Add the slakened cornflour to thicken, and once it has (but not too gloopy), whisk the egg until frothy, and very slowly drizzle into the soup, so that you get a stringy effect. Take off the heat, ladle into bowls, and garnish with the spring onion, coriander, chilli flakes, pepper and sesame seeds. Add soy to taste. Easy!

Potato and Leek Soup with Crumbled Blue Cheese

The inspiration for this soup came from a classic Vichyssoise, a potato and leek soup generally enjoyed chilled. During the unbearably hot days at culinary school in New York, my teammates and I had made a cold Vichyssoise as an amuse-bouche for the school's restaurant. It turned out that a shot of cold yet creamy soup was the perfect way to start off a copious meal. Chilled soup would, however, be difficult to want to make at this time of year, so I tweaked the recipe to make it desirable for much cooler days. And what better way to serve it than in little espresso cups?

Montreal is a cold and bitter city come winter, but also a city where people - who are used to the wintery temperatures - still go out, eat out and enjoy life. Any Montrealer's wardrobe includes an extra pair of legwarmers under your jeans, socks up to your knees and fleece wherever you can fit it. The upside is that once you beat the first couple of steps out of the door, your body, although oddly at first - think frozen eyelids, and steamy cold breath - gets used to the cold and resets what normal warmth is. All to say that a bowl of steamy soup is really a great way to welcome the cold months to come.

On a less formal note, I am off to Venice in a couple weeks. Oliver and I were thinking about a small getaway and since were are spending the holidays in France with my family, Venice seemed like the perfect place to go to. I am sure you food lovers and travel lovers can relate to this: when I start booking a vacation, sure I look at the great sights, museums, architecture I want to be sure not to miss, but let's face it, I want to know what kind of food I'm going to be able to sample. Traveling through food is one of the greatest way to really experience the culture of the place you are in, the customs, the traditions and the aura of a place. I've done quite a bit of research and it seems quite unanimous that Venice is not the Italian city where the food is the best. I hear that finding more remote restaurants is the way to go to avoid touristy places with touristy prices. Any advice from you food lovers out there would be more than welcome! I promise to bring back a myriad of photos, and hopefully at least a couple recipes too.

Recipe (for 6)
2 ounces of pancetta, roughly chopped
1/2 white onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
3 leeks, chopped (use white and light green parts only)
2 bay leaves
2 cups of chicken stock
Water
1 pound of diced Yukon Gold potatoes (about 8 small potatoes)
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup of crumbled blue cheese of your choice
Chives, to garnish

In a stockpot, add the pancetta on medium heat and cook until some of fat renders (about 3 minutes). Add the onion and stir to coat the fat. Add a drizzle of oil if needed. Cook until the onions are soft and translucent. Add the garlic.
Chop the leeks and add to the stockpot. Saute for 2 minutes. Add the diced potatoes and cook for another minute. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Add the chicken stock. The liquid should just cover the potatoes and leeks. Add water to cover if there isn't enough stock to do so. Add the bay leaves. Bring to a boil. Cover and reduce to a simmer. Simmer for 30 minutes. Taste, and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. Remove the bay leaves and blend with an immersion blender until the soup is smooth. Add a touch of water if the soup is too thick for your taste. Strain the soup to remove any lumps and strands of leek. Serve warm with crumbled blue cheese and garnish with chives. Enjoy!

Shrimp, Sugar Snap Pea and Baby Bok Choy Soup

Have I been in a bit of a soup-obsessed mood lately?... maybe. Or maybe it's just that when it's getting bitterly cold, the only way to fight back is to get in the kitchen and make a great big batch of soup! I was in the mood for something light, easy and heart-warming. I think this pretty much did the trick: a couple ladlefuls of chicken broth, a myriad of greens and some shrimp all simmering in the cradle of a wok. 10 minutes later... voila. Lunch is served my friends!

Of course, in a more perfect world, I might have taken the time to enrich my stock with added chicken bones and aromatics. I might have added some chicken or sliced pork too. But as time was of the essence, I came up with this easy enough concoction and the result was quick and perfect.

Recipe (for 4)
4 baby bok choy
12 sugar snap peas
12 shrimp, peeled
1/2 teaspoon of grated ginger
1 tablespoon of peanut (or canola) oil
A pinch of dried chillies
2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 teaspoon of sesame oil
2 teaspoons of light soy sauce
2 spring onions, sliced
4 cups of chicken stock
Toasted sesame seeds
300 grams of dried udon noodles


Cook the noodles according to package instructions. Run them under cold water once cooked, and reserve.

In the meantime, add the bok choy (cut in half lengthwise) and the sugar snap peas to a pot of boiling water. Boil for 2 minutes. Shock the vegetables by placing them in ice cold water. This stops the cooking process and helps the vegetables maintain a nice green color. Once the vegetables are cold, drain and remove excess water with paper towels.

Heat your wok to medium low heat. Add the peanut oil, ginger, garlic and dried chili. Stirfry for 2 minutes. Add the peeled shrimp. Once the shrimp starts to turn pink, add the vegetables stirring constantly. Once the shrimp is entirely pink in color add the noodles. Add the chicken broth and bring to a boil. Once the broth has come to a boil, add the soy sauce, sesame oil and spring onions and cook for another minute. Serve topped with toasted sesame seeds. Enjoy!

Butternut Squash and Apple Soup with Crispy Sage and Parmesan Grilled Bread

Butternut squash is one of my favorite ingredients to cook with in the Fall. There's just something comforting about roasting its orange flesh until it becomes soft and sweet - and the wonderful color gets me every time. Apple and squash must have been high school sweethearts of sorts as their flavors meld wonderfully but also manage to stand up to one another. The great thing about these kinds of soups is that they fill your kitchen (and whole living space when your apartment is not very spacious!) with a wonderful earthy smell - and while they take a little while to simmer, the end result is grand amounts of luscious soup that can be frozen to enjoy at a later time if desired.

So, grab your favorite fleece blanket, some crusty bread and a bowl of steaming soup and just enjoy being inside and warm on a cold day.

Recipe (for 6)
1 medium-sized butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into bite-size cubes
3 apples, peeled and cored into bite-size cubes
1/2 white onion
1 teaspoon of apple cider vinegar
2 teaspoons of light brown sugar
2 celery stalks
2 carrots
6 sage leaves, and one extra per soup bowl
3 cloves of garlic, diced
3 shallots, diced
1 1/2 qt of chicken stock
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Olive oil

Parmesan Bread
One loaf of sourdough bread
Olive oil
2 tablespoons of grated Parmesan

Preheat oven to 425 F. Place the butternut squash and apple cubes on a baking sheet. Sprinkle with the brown sugar, the apple cider vinegar and season generously with salt and pepper and drizzle with olive oil. Use your hands to mix the seasoning in. Cook for 30-35 minutes, or until the cubes are soft. Check on the apples after 20 minutes as they should be be ready before the butternut squash.

In the meantime, dice the onion, celery and carrots into similar size bite-size chunks. In a pot, heat a good drizzle of olive oil. Add the vegetables and stir. Cook on medium low heat for 15 minutes, until the vegetables are soft. Add the chopped garlic and shallots and cook for another 2 minutes. Add the cooked apples and butternut squash. Add the 6 sage leaves (minced) and the chicken stock. Bring to a boil, reduce to a low simmer and cover. Cook for 30 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper.

Blend (preferably with an immersion blender) until the soup is smooth. If the soup seems a little too chunky, add some water, one tablespoon at a time into you reach your desired texture. Keep warm on low heat.

Heat a good drizzle of olive oil (about 2 tablespoons) in a pan on high heat. Add the extra sage leaves. Turn them after 1 minute and fry on the other side for another minute. In the meantime, cut some sourdough bread into slices. Drizzle with olive oil and grated Parmesan. Grill for about 2 minutes on each side.

Serve the warm soup with a drizzle of olive oil, some cracked black pepper, a fried sage leaf and a couple pieces of bread. Enjoy!