Sprout Soup

I'm inordinately fond of Brussels sprouts and I'm always looking for new ways to serve them, much to My Beloved's dismay. He will eat Brussels sprouts but he says he doesn't have to like it.

Recently, we discovered a trick for making sprouts palatable to the non-sprout lovers in the crowd, to wit, they taste great if they are raw, or nearly so. Cooked, especially if cooked too long, they can be mushy, sulfurous and just plain nasty. Raw or only lightly cooked, they are crunchy and mild. I've been riffing on gently cooked sprouts all winter.

When I discovered a package of turkey soup in the freezer, I thawed it for lunch one day. Looking into the pot, there was very little inspiration. Tan broth, tan meat, pallid zucchini, nearly colorless onion, white corn - it looked like winter feels. However, when I added three or four thinly sliced Brussels sprouts and a handful of sliced green onion to the pot, it started to look more lively. When it was hot and the sprouts were just barely cooked, a sprinkling of garlic croutons (Andronico's makes delicious ones and sells them in the salad aisle) added another flavor layer and a nice, crispy texture to complement the still-crunchy sprouts and the richness of the soup base. Even My Beloved enjoyed this face lift for an otherwise dispiriting winter soup.

Again With The Soup??

I'm a big fan of soup; I could eat soup twice a week and be a happy woman. My Beloved, maybe not so much. When I trotted out our third or fourth pot of soup in less than a month, his body English said, "Enough with the soup, lady!" He's from New York - he has eloquent body language.

Turkey soup, made from the simmered bones of Thanksgiving with carrots, onions and celery in the broth, then strained to remove the bones and used-up veggies. I picked the meat off the bones and added that to the soup. Once all the goodies were in the pot, I added new sliced carrots, some frozen peas, some sliced green onion and broken vermicelli for the final heating.

We each ate two bowls of soup - notice, please, that the body language did not translate into reluctance once the soup was on the table. I couldn't finish my second bowl, so Cora got some, too, and I had only enthusiastic body language from her - she has a way of dancing on her hind legs that indicates strong approval.

Message received from the boy, however. I'll wait a while before making another pot of soup.

Open Wide

As a child, my younger brother was a picky eater, something that astonished and worried his parents and three older siblings, fine trenchermen one and all. He would spit out any baby food he didn't like and turn his head disdainfully away from spoons aimed at his mouth with the exhortation to "Open wide!"

He refused just about everything except pancakes, waffles, thin asparagus spears, peanut butter and butter sandwiches on thin white bread, and a certain brand of peanut butter cookies.

We tried everything from bribery to force to get him to widen his palate but he steadfastly refused. We even, to our everlasting shame, gave permission to try to a rather bullying neighbor who claimed he had forced his kids to eat. Scooter defeated us all and sent the bully away shaking his head. Finally, around the age of six or seven, he grudgingly added hot dogs, hamburgers and broccoli tops (no stems!) to his repertoire. Today, he's a good eater, although he still resolutely refuses shellfish.

All of which has virtually nothing to do with turkey soup that I found in the freezer, thawed and embellished with fresh veggies except that in order to eat this soup, you load up a spoonful and must "Open wide!"