Raw Butternut Squash And Kiwi Soup With Chilli Apple Croutons

I have been wanting to make this soup for a while.  I love butternut squash.  Really love it.  I love the way it is just about the most patient vegetable there is.  It sits, looking pert and lovely upon my shelf until I decide to use it.  It doesn't sag or deflate in despondency.  Sometimes weeks can go by and it stays as fresh as a daisy.   As September brings that sweet smell of falling leaves and shorter evenings I am far too inclined to cook everything,  it's all about the comfort and the salads and raw foods come second best.  I try to do my utmost to stop this.  My body craves nutrients, not lost in the steam of long cooked stews.  I've wanted to make raw butternut squash soup forEVER but I didn't have a kickass blender that could whizz it up to a sweet thick cream. Well, now I have one (I'll tell you about that another time).  

It's Vegan MoFo Day 14 (my life already!). I'm plunging on.  Most other bloggers take a break at the weekends but I'm travelling again soon and am not sure I'll get chance to post.

This recipe was the very first thing I made with my new kitchen gadget.

Raw Butternut Squash And Kiwi Soup With Chilli Apple Croutons

1 medium butternut squash

1/2 organic kiwi (leave the skin on..this is good if it is organic

1/4 red onion

1/4 inch piece of fresh ginger

1/2 hot(ish) red chilli pepper, seeds removed

1 clove garlic

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp of cracked black pepper

apple croutons

dice 1/2 a dessert apple really small, keep the skin on

dust with salt, cracked black pepper, hot chilli powder (or chipotle powder if you have it).

Use a vegetable peeler to peel the squash.  Chop into chunks and remove the seeds (you can dust these with seasoning and roast for  a healthy snack).  

Use a garlic press to mince the ginger (I know, isn't this a great tip..I was busy the other day and a lightbulb moment struck and I popped it in and hopped up and down at my discovery. So much easier than grating!) mince it straight into your blender. Throw all the other ingredients in along with it and blend on high speed for about 2 minutes.  In this time, the centrifugal force of the blender will transform into a warm silky soup.

Serve into bowls, placing the chilli, apple croutons in the centre. Shake over a few chilli flakes too.

The kiwi just gives it a slight edge to cut through the sweet squash.  It is also a great boost of vitamin C.  With the colder weather it is a good idea to up your intake.  Stay healthy.

I don't know, sometimes I just feel so smug that I wised up to vegan food so long ago.  To coin a phrase, 'it's the nuts'!

x

Soup Therapy. MoFo Day 7 - Smoky Roasted Red Pepper & Tomato Soup with Tempeh Croutons

Happy Day 7 - Vegan MoFo 2013.
My first MoFo recipe.  To be honest, since my recent return from Berlin, I've been a bit 'fooded out'.  I've been craving just simple and familiar flavours. I'm also a bit blue, from leaving behind a wonderful month in Germany.  I've also just moved into a house sit and besides that being another new situation, I've discovered it is not going to be as long as I thought so I'm looking for my next housesit.  I'm a bit all over the place, to say the least!  I'm going to seek somewhere where I can hunker down, be for a while, and cook until the cows come home.

Therefore, I'm presenting you with a heart warming, favourite of mine.  It has a gentle kick too, to liven things up and get you out of a funk…if that is what is needed.

Smokey Roasted Red Pepper & Tomato Soup.   I put a new take on it by adding fried, crispy Tempeh Croutons (an idea I stole from Lucky Leek in Berlin)  

It is really simple to make (I need that, my head is bloody spinning from all the uncertainty and excitement).

This recipe makes two bowls.

6 small red peppers (I used a couple of yellow instead this time as the bargain bag was…a bargain!..it tasted just as good)
6 organic tomatoes (choose ones that have not spent all their life in a fridge and have had chance for their sugars to develop)
6 cloves of garlic (oh dear, I've just seen I've created 666 in my soup recipe..add 7 cloves if you are superstitious!)
1 tsp smoked paprika
1 tsp pink salt
1/2 tsp chilli powder (optional)
fresh ground black pepper to taste

Tempeh croutons

just use enough diced tempeh to garnish the centre of the bowl
1/4 tsp chipotle powder (if you don't have then just use smoked paprika)

chili flakes to garnish


Roast the peppers & tomatoes in a 180degree oven.  For about 25-30 mins, until the shoulders of the vegetables are becoming just slightly charred.  Remove from the oven, leave to cool slightly, this will make the skin easier to peel off and discard (discard the peppers seeds too).  You can use the plastic bag trick but the idea of plastic bag chemicals on my food freaks me out a little.  If you just wait a few minutes the skin will be compliant with your wishes.  Make sure you catch all the delicious juices from the peppers.  I don't oil my peppers & toms.  i don't think they need it.  I do however make a little boat out of tin foil and pop my garlic in there and douse liberally, as the garlic needs the oil to prevent the garlic from burning to a charred and bitter crisp.  It becomes so sweet and soft this way. I could actually just eat these like candy.

Put peppers, tomatoes and garlic into a saucepan with the seasonings.  Add about 1/2 cup water. You may need a little more, but taste and use your judgement. Use a stick blender to blend.  Pop onto the gas and bring it back up to a nice heat (don't boil it).

Meantime, dust the diced tempeh with the chipotle powder and a little salt and black pepper.  Pop into a hot, oiled skillet and fry for about 2-3 minutes.  

Serve the soup into huggable bowls.  Sprinkle the tempeh into the centre and dust with chilli flakes, if you wish.  Grind over more fresh black pepper.

Breathe for a moment. Ahh. Dip in a big soup spoon. Eat. Let the flavours play on your tongue and just see how it puts the world to rights!

What did you make today?   Let us know in the comments below.

How to make a warming bowl of beetroot & mustard soup with parsnip crisps.

When I travel into London on the train.  Go from hills and valleys to stone and steel.  I like to pop a book into my bag to read if I fail to strike up a conversation with a travelling stranger.  Which I often do, whether they like it or not.  9 times out of 10 my boldness, (yes, it is a shame to see it as a courageous thing in this country, but...what can I say, generally it has been the way, quite unlike many other countries I've visited.  In Borneo, to be conversing with someone practically gives then want to squeeze up right beside you or drape an arm over yours, in America they are not quite so free with minimizing personal space but launching into a friendly discourse is common place...in the places I've travelled anyhow), uncovers a remarkable character with a story to tell.  Anyhow, the last two journeys have not been a peek times so no stranger has taken up the seat beside me.  So I've been free to pull out my slim volume of Love in a Dish by M.F.K Fisher a much admired American food writer who manages to render me over come with romance as her words are as carefully chosen as her ingredients.  Its not what she makes, her diet was overloaded with meats and pates and coloured with fine wines, but even though I am vegan I can appreciate her love of food, the conversation of food, the nature, history and anthropology of it.  It is the story she so perfectly unfurls in mellifluous tone.  Indeed, to me she is like the foodies Joanna Lumley.  Why am I telling you all this?  Wasting space on the page when I could be perfunctory listing the things you need to buy from the shop, the measures you will be required to provide and the numbered bullet points of the 'method'.  Well, I will again, next time do this, but  please, indulge me this once as I spend a happy hour, tapping out sentences that make me feel the romance of the words as much as the love of the recipe.  So, for today, here is my recipe, a la M.F.K Fisher.

I've been practically lathering in lentils lately.  Dahls given va va voom with chunks of fibrous ginger or married, subtly with sliced meaty mushrooms.  Though my love for these remain undiminished, today I wanted a burst of colour to puncture the mist and fog huddling outside my window.  Along with a colour boost I sought warmth to embrace the union in the vibrant, thick broth.  Beetroot and mustard sang to me from vacuum pack and portly jar.  Yes, fresh taproots with a dusting of earth still evident and to be scrubbed away, would of course be your ingredient of choice. But when you've still got the pink glow and fatigued muscle, post 2 hour cycle ride, the last thing you may want to contemplate is a walk, up hill, to the shops.  Sometimes you've just got to make do.  Embrace convenience.  And promise to be more organised next time.  I sat for a minute sipping my green tea, and thought about what flavour it was I craved.  Not too sweet, not too tart, I wanted a thick soup that didn't lay so heavy on me that it rendered me ineffectual for the rest of the days tasks.  I grabbed a ball of white cabbage, the bright corn yellow mustard from Dijon, two small, red onions, and put the kettle on to boil.   I set quickly to work, post-exercise hunger was making itself heard in my midriff.  I chopped the contents of two packs of beetroot in a hapless style and threw the chunks into my pot.  The cabbage sliced in two. Then one half, roughly cut into slithers. The onions where peeled, quartered and then sent to meet the beet, and yes, when time allows the onions would favour a slow saute, but hunger dictated my design.  A table spoon was scraped around the inside of the Dijon jar.  Two garlic cloves, lay down under my knife and bashed flat with my fist then to joined the melee. Now for spice.  Too easy to tip in a spoon of garam masala or all-spice, or introduce the Middle East with a woody stick of cinnamon, as I'd done so oft before. I wanted a fragrance to enliven my senses, but I wanted a fusion of flavours I'd not used before.  A teaspoon of dusty red paprika to warm.  Like delving blind into a lucky dip, I jostled amid the clutter of spice jars thrown together in my large plastic trug.  My fingers touched each jar and I briefly considered each one.  Imagining the resulting mix of flavours.  I smiled, quite involuntarily, when I made my selection.   I shook four wizened, green cardamon pods into my pestle and bashed hard.  The tough outer shell spilt and released tiny grey seeds.  I bashed and ground.  Inhaling the aromatic beads.  My yield of three pinches of powder then scattered over the waiting ingredients.  I felt satisfied.  I ignited the burner, poured the hot water from the kettle (to speed the process) to cover the mix and the lid went on with a resounding clang. 

Whilst the vegetables came to a boil my mind considered a worthy and compatible garnish.  I hunted down the mandolin  and swiftly produced a dozen slithers of parsnip.  I brushed olive oil on one side, and then the other. Pink salt, maybe a little too much, sprinkled over the top before putting the root to its fate under the scorching heat of the grill. In no tine the oil was dancing around the curling edges. Five minutes, two and a half each side, and I had parsnip crisps..or chips. These days, my wandering heart and love affair with America has made me bilingual.  Does 'American' count as another language? The frizzled crisps didn't last long. The sealible

After 20 minutes the steam had frosted all my windows and sweetened the kitchen air.  I took arms with my trusty hand blender and stabbed into the boiled mass until the vegetables were one.  I tasted.  A scatter of pink salt settled upon the surface and then dissolved into the burgundy puree.  I tasted again.  A tiny sip from the end of the spoon.  My hands clapped together three times in reverence to the harmonious blending, and then ladled two scoops into my bowl.... and then one for luck.  The parsnips crisps I'd managed to not devour were then placed in the centre of the bowl, and admired for a second or two before I carried the soup to my chair.  I threw the switch on my muddle of fairy lights and ate my lunch whilst following the hops and jumps of the blue tits, as they did their rounds of grub foraging on the remaining leaves of the apple tree. I slurped at the spoon and the sweet, faintly sharp, softly heated soup brightened the winter day.

Flowery prose spent.  Tomorrow, normal service shall be resumed.