Potato Chowder

In Between



Yesterday was… well… not overcast so much as thoroughly cloudy but without real promise of rain. The high was only about 76 and when I went to bed it was dripping rain (accumulation 1/8th of an inch in the puddles). The leaves on the trees (except for the ones that have gone straight to brown and taken a header into the turf) are sorta, kindly, mostly green with a brownish-yellowish tinge they've had since the drought/heat wave began back in June. So I don’t have a lot to work with here in terms of seasonal clues.

But my body and mood; the color of the light and it's length; and the dry, dusty leaf smell all tell me it's fall — or should be. I've got a serious jones for Autumn and I'm looking for compromises to handle this seemingly deathless summer. I hate summer heat and endless days and lack of rain and just want it to all go away. My belly and soul are craving soups and braises and stews and the weather makes most of them inappropriate. Not that I haven't cheated a time or two, but food exists in a context and the climatic context for those dishes just isn't right.

I'm looking for compromises to handle this seemingly deathless summer.

If there's anything I learned from my ex-wife (besides never loan your ex your car) it's listen to your body. You don’t have to do what it tells you, but you should at least be polite and listen and my body is demanding heavy food and then saying, in a very whiny tone when I offer it something deeply savory, "No. That's not what I want." Then I had an idea: Potato Chowder.

It's not too heavy, but it is hearty. It's savory. It's adaptable. It's perfect for a cloudy, warmish, wanna-be fall day. So I made a batch.

Potato Chowder
Serves 6.

6 strips bacon
1 large onion — coarsely diced
1 pound Yukon Gold potatoes — cut into 1/2 inch dice
1/2 lb gruyere — grated
3 tablespoons flour
3 cups chicken broth
2 tablespoons Worcestershire Sauce
2 teaspoon ground mustard
1 cup heavy cream
additional salt and pepper to taste

Toss grated gruyere with flour. Dump in a sieve and shake to eliminate excess flour. Set aside.

In a large soup pot, cook bacon over medium-low heat until semi-crisp. Drain bacon, chop coarsely, and reserve for garnish. Pour off all but 2 tablespoons of grease.

Add diced onion and cook until it begins to brown. Increase heat to high, add a bit of chicken broth and deglaze the pot. Add remaining chicken broth and bring to a boil, reduce heat medium, add potatoes, salt, and simmer until potatoes are tender — about 10 minutes.

Whisk together Worcestershire Sauce, mustard, and cream. Stir into soup and heat to a simmer (but don't boil).

Reduce heat to low and allow to cool (there should be only tiny bubbles appearing) and stir in gruyere a handful at a time. Serve garnished with bacon, chopped green onions, garlic bread on the side.

Listen to your body. Pay attention to the seasons. And don't loan your car to your ex-wife.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | soup | chowder | potato

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Ed, You Ignorant Slut

Ed, You Ignorant Slut



Ed Bruske, author of The Slow Cook, took issue with my Kitchen Window article on spring chowders. Ed and I have been reading each other's blogs for a couple of months now. He's a talented and thoughtful writer — and nearly as opinionated as I am. Ed's new on the flog scene, so do check him out. But as regards his issues...

The gist of his objections appears to be this: "It seems that if you simply twist the definition of a chowder a little — easy to do on a computer keyboard — anything that swims in a bowl can be called a chowder." (And note, Ed mostly blamed the editor and not the author for his objections, but in fact I signed off on the article before it was published, and, speaking as a one-time editor, this editor knows her business.)

The Food Lover's Companion defines chowder as: "A thick chunky seafood soup, of which clam chowder is the most well known," but continues, "The term is also used to describe any thick, rich soup containing chunks of food (for instance, corn chowder)."

According to The Food Encyclopedia chowder is, "a thick soup, frequently but not always made with seafood." And turning to the Joy of Cooking one finds: "Chowder — thick fish, meat or vegetable soups, to which salt pork, milk, diced vegetables, and even bread and crackers may be added."

I, too, have found myself pondering on the use or misuse of names associated with foods. Back in 2004 I wrote "By Any Name" addressing just this question. In the case of using the word chowder I checked my references first, and was vindicated. And if we look at the most likely origin of the word it's a reference to the cooking vessel (a cauldron or chaudière), not the contents. Does Ed argue that unless an 18th century-style cauldron is used it isn't chowder? Optionally, if you select jowter as the preferred etymology, then is the dish composed of fish purchased from a mounted peddler?

Words change. Just as the cauldron once used to make chowder in has now become a soup pot or Dutch oven (and there's another interesting bit of etymology) the ingredients have also changed. A Google search on "clam chowder" returns 953,000 results while "corn chowder" returns 412,000. But a search on "chowder" alone returns 3,850,000 — clearly there are a lot of things out there being call "chowder" that don't involve clams. In fact, in a comment to me Ed asserted that "To me, a chowder is still a pot of potatoes, haddock and fish broth." He did aver that there might be such a beast as "corn chowder," but didn’t even mention clams. (Note: "haddock chowder" garners only 14,100 hits.)

No man means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and thought is viscous. ~ Henry Brooks Adams

Words change. Awful begins as "to fill with awe" and ends with "horrible," bad becomes "good," and perhaps even the word for a mounted fish peddler becomes the name of a soup. And, for what it's worth, Google began as a proper name some 7 or 8 years ago and is now a verb — go figure.

However, Ed does make one valid point, albeit by implication, and that is that a given food is the version that to our minds is the archetype. To me macaroni and cheese is elbow pasta made with a cheddar mornay and baked in the oven as a casserole, to my nephews it's elbow pasta with a runny, bright orange sauce from a blue box cooked on the stovetop. And during the Only Annual Mac-n-Cheese Off we saw a lot of other takes on this supposedly simple dish.

And whatever it's called, doesn't that bowl of potato chowder look delicious? Whatever it's name, wouldn't it taste as good?

Technorati: Food | essay | chowder | soup | food commentary

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Chowders Lighten Up

Chowders Lighten Up

From its beginnings in New England, chowder spread westward across the continent, and was modified and adapted along the way. Potato chowder, corn chowder and potato-corn chowder are the most common variants, but chowders made of mixed vegetables, kale, and spinach have also popped up.

Read the complete article at NPR's Kitchen Window.

Technorati: Food | recipe | soup | chowder | kitchen window | npr

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