Back to the dinner. I was wise enough to say, no thank you to the butternut soup, but I watched as the rest of my family politely grimaced at what seemed like a ceaseless sea of orange on their plates. I asked my older sister for a taste and it was super creamy. In short, cream sums up some of my culinary dreads. How did I live in France, I sometimes ask myself.
My hesitance for soup was formed around that experience. It was restored, however, after my friend’s 45th birthday celebration in Stellenbosch. I wanted a light dinner on the Sunday night after the party and they made a curried butternut soup that changed my initial views.
Bailey’s baby shower saw me trying out a cold pea soup, which was one of the most delightful green things my palate has sampled.
My mother always made sure we ate at home and that we ate before leaving, even when visiting other family members, so I’m accustomed to making things at home. There is a comfort and trust to it, and I have revisited my relationship with soup.
Bailey’s mother is a magician in the kitchen. I happily eat her food and trust whatever comes out of her pots. My friend shared a few delights of soups that her mom made when she visited her parents.
for food Sake
Soup’s up
The sorghum and quinoa soup is a soother
Image: 123rf
Am I the only one surprised at how quickly we segued into soup weather in Joburg?
My dear friend Bailey will laugh when she sees this, because when we started working together, she wrote a Post-it list of things I do not eat and soup was at the top. Our friendship, marked with culinary delights, has opened up my palate to a few things, soup being one of them. Bailey eased me into it, starting me out on broths. I like to see my soup and what’s in it.
Many years ago, when we first moved to Joburg, we were invited to a neighbour’s home for dinner and they had made butternut soup. My mother didn’t make soup much. The soupiest thing I ate as a child was umnqusho (samp and beans), served with bone soup. I always ate my umnqusho dry, so I never knew what that combo tasted like. But my sister loves it to this day.
A potato salad with a difference
Back to the dinner. I was wise enough to say, no thank you to the butternut soup, but I watched as the rest of my family politely grimaced at what seemed like a ceaseless sea of orange on their plates. I asked my older sister for a taste and it was super creamy. In short, cream sums up some of my culinary dreads. How did I live in France, I sometimes ask myself.
My hesitance for soup was formed around that experience. It was restored, however, after my friend’s 45th birthday celebration in Stellenbosch. I wanted a light dinner on the Sunday night after the party and they made a curried butternut soup that changed my initial views.
Bailey’s baby shower saw me trying out a cold pea soup, which was one of the most delightful green things my palate has sampled.
My mother always made sure we ate at home and that we ate before leaving, even when visiting other family members, so I’m accustomed to making things at home. There is a comfort and trust to it, and I have revisited my relationship with soup.
Bailey’s mother is a magician in the kitchen. I happily eat her food and trust whatever comes out of her pots. My friend shared a few delights of soups that her mom made when she visited her parents.
Image: Supplied
What caught my interest was a vegetable soup with grains. Sorghum and quinoa sit well in the tummy. The wellness girlies will be thrilled to hear that it’s also gluten free. Sorghum is an ancient grain that has always been part of my life — my dad ate what we called “brown pap” when we were little. I was surprised to note that white people also eat sorghum. It’s one of those big city realisations that I still get even after many years in Joburg.
This soup is a soother. The pesto-like drizzle to finish is a wonderful addition to the flavour profile. The soup has texture. It must not be blended. I’ve walked a long journey with soup and this is a triumph.
Ingredients:
Leftover herb and nut drizzle:
Method:
For the drizzle:
Dish the steaming soup into bowls and layer the drizzle over the soupy, grainy goodness at your whim. Drizzle with a little olive oil, a final squeeze of lemon and a sprinkle of maldon salt to finish. Then enjoy.
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