The Cooking Critic

When a person subsists on soup and ice cream alone, do you gain weight or lose? It’s an important questions, folks, and I’d like to answer it for you. I’ve been conducting this experiment and using myself as the guinea pig. The soups have been plentiful—just scroll down and see. The ice cream has come in pints and consisted of Hagen-Daaz Strawberry (so-so, I love their vanilla, but the corner market was out) and Ben & Jerry’s Mint Cookies and Cream (the best ice cream on earth.) Besides the soup and ice cream, a scale would be useful. I, sadly, don’t have one, so eyeing myself in the mirror will have to substitute. Hmmm, so, I look the same weight to me. My pants fit the same too. My conclusion: I’m the exact same weight. So I guess the ice cream and soup cancelled each other out. I should say I did exercise a bit—I wasn’t completely incapacitated. But my exercise consisted of walking three miles at a pace that may be best described as “leisurely,” although I eventually worked my way up to “nearly brisk” as I got less sick those last couple of  days.

Oh yeah, so the Chicken Soup with Celery and Lemon. It combines two of the best sick people ingredients ever: chicken broth and lemon juice. You know what else tastes good? Celery leaves. I’m serious. And I just discovered 1 part lemon juice to 2 parts honey is a soothing, homemade cough syrup! And it tastes far better than Robitussin. I have the whooping cough, by the way, or maybe TB, which Maggie claims I gave to her. Actually, I think I just have a cold, but I find drama is best when you’re sick. What do you have, if you don’t have people’s sympathy?

Adjustments: I put this in the “(Relatively) Easy” category despite some debate. It’s easy when you already have cooked chicken on hand, like I did, and you don’t have to cook it 45 minutes in the broth. Also, rather than making a bouquet garni, I just let the herbs float around in the broth completely unsupervised since I didn’t have any kitchen string on me. And, as always, unsalted butter was replaced by salted.

Assessment: Brothy, soothing, citrusy. Perfect for when you’re feeling under the weather, but I’m curious to see what I think of it on a well day.

There are few things in life more satisfying than a good dumpling. Actually, there are few things in life more satisfying than a mediocre dumpling for that matter. I make my dumplings with Bisquick, and I’m not afraid to admit it. They puff up nice and fluffy as you please, and I toss in a little parsley to throw people off the Bisquick scent. In fact, I bet you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between my Bisquick dumplings and somebody else’s homemade dumplings. Actually, I’m sure some people could tell the difference, but I suspect those people aren’t reading my blog. Not now anyways. Someday they will. Some day THE WHOLE WORLD will be reading my blog. Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! And I will hold them in thrall with my ruminations on dumplings. (You are getting very sleepy. You like dumplings. Dumplings are your friend.)

So while the Better Homes New Cookbook provided the base for this Chicken Stew with Dumplings (they even recommended I use Bisquick, more or less), Cooking Light provided some ideas for additional flavor, so I’m citing them here. Cite your sources, people! Don’t plagiarize like my students like to do sometimes. Boo, plagiarism!

Adjustments: I sautéed fresh celery and onions and garlic instead of using frozen onions, frozen vegetables and garlic powder. Dill was my fresh herb of choice for this dish since I had some around. And add 2 tablespoons of sherry at the end for additional flavor.

Assessment: Not the most amazing Chicken ’n Dumplings I’ve ever made but good, and I felt very, very comforted. I make this dish differently every time, but I think my most successful rendition (and also the most time-consuming) took heavily from Emeril’s TV Dinners, which uses heavy cream, made-from-scratch dumplings and fresh jalapeños, among other ingredients—I hear he likes to kick things up a notch.

Patti Dixon, friend of my mother’s and all-round great lady, first introduced me to Tomato-Dill Soup. Tomato-Dill and I (as I call him now for short) hit it off right away. In fact, I was so intrigued by Tomato-Dill, that I nearly risked not meeting all the other delicious characters that were a part of this particular progressive dinner. I went back for thirds of this soup—no joke—and this was during the appetizer segment of the evening, so there was still a lot of food to go. Luckily, the servings were small, and I didn’t spoil my dinner. But at that moment I didn’t care. I was willing to throw out the window everything my mother ever told me about spoiling my appetite to be with Tomato-Dill. I felt that strongly.

A couple years later, Tomato-Dill and I are still on speaking terms but have never been able to recreate that same magic that was there on our first encounter. I blame myself. I’m easily distracted by other soups; I didn’t make an honest attempt to nurture my relationship with Tomato-Dill; and when I created the soup from scratch myself, it just didn’t taste as good as Patti’s, quite frankly.

I’m not sure what Patti does to her soups, but I suspect it involves witchcraft. My mother claims it involves sweet onions instead of brown or white. This could be the case too.

Adjustments: Since I had fresh thyme around, I used a tablespoon of it instead of the teaspoon of dried it called for. (I assume it’s calling for dried. When a recipe doesn’t specify, that’s usually the case, right?) But that’s the standard conversion: 1 tablespoon of fresh herbs equals 1 teaspoon of its dried counterpart. Also, I put in way more than 1 tsp of sugar. Forgot how much, but just do it to taste.

Assessment: This makes a lot of soup, and it’s a bisque, by the way. I thought about giving some to Adam, vegetarian and neighbor, but then it started raining, and I wasn’t about to walk down the street in the rain. Then I got sick and this led to the natural conclusion that I should hoard all the soup to myself and eat it for every meal, which I did. It might not have tasted as sublime as when Patti made it, but it still tasted good and felt excellent on a sore throat. Reunited at last!

Tim McKeon asked me the other day what my favorite meal was. I replied that was like asking which is your favorite child. He seemed to think both were legitimate questions. So I told him, I’m really into making Cream of Celery Soup these days. He nodded, said nothing, then turned around and started speaking to someone else. I think he was disappointed with my answer.

This recipe was made only because of the extra celery in my refrigerator one day, and I tell you, celery will never go bad in my house again. I want to jump up and down with joy when I realize I have enough celery left over to make this soup. No. Really.

Adjustments: I got this Cream of Celery Soup recipe online (hit the link and scroll down till you spot it), and the fellow who posted this version credits Joy of Cooking for the inspiration. The recipe doesn’t say to heat the soup up after adding the milk, cornstarch and cream, but you need to, so it will thicken and be warm. I assume everyone wants their soup warm. Also, a healthy dose of salt makes it taste good.

Assessment: I love it. And so do Mom and Dad. It’s easy too. But I’m afraid my picture won’t help enliven Cream of Celery Soup’s undeserved boring reputation, but I’m posting the pic anyways.