Onion Soup Two and a Half Ways
Not sure what has made the readership grow so dramatically in the last week or two, but thank you all. Perhaps it was the onions. Think onion, think French, and your next word is almost certainly soup.
I see to my surprise that I haven't featured this before, though it's something which L or I will often order. The problem is that as you travel more and your tastes become more sophisticated, you realise how much ersatz stuff there is out there. Many fine dishes can be produced by us amateurs at home: some of them would gain respect from any professional. But there are certain things which we can never match. Perhaps the first of these is stock.
Any pro kitchen worthy of the name will have one or two vats of stock permanently on the go. Chicken is easy to make at home. But beef? I once went on a week long butchery course. On day one we started roasting the bones for the stock. It was eventually completed on day five after a very long process, including four overnight stays in a slow oven. The end result was amazing, but the chances of recreating that here in Johnston Towers? Nada, niente, zilch, sod all.
You can buy the stuff in good supermarkets, in sachets (excellent) and in cans (so so). What each of these has in common is a very high price, usually for just a half a litre or thereabouts. The compromise, for many years, came from Campbells Soup, in the form of their concentrated Beef Consommé. Haven't seen it for yonks, and have stopped making this as a result. My sister tells me she uses the Baxters version. Let's explore a couple of possibilities.
But first a health warning or two. French onion soup, with a topping of croutons and melted cheese (usually Gruyere) is intended to be served hot. Self evident, perhaps? But from the average pro kitchen we're talking just a couple of degrees lower than Etna when she's erupting. And if you've chopped your onions in half moons, getting two or three of these wrapped round your tongue is far beyond any pain the Spanish Inquisition could inflict. Got that? OK, let's move on.
In simple terms a classic French onion soup involves onions cooked extremely slowly until browned, then added to good stock. The onion cooking alone will take a good hour, then you fiddle about with bread and cheese and finish under a grill or in the oven. Anthony Bourdain's version in Les Halles Cookbook involves bacon, bouquet garni, port, balsamic vinegar and, interestingly, dark chicken stock, not beef. In a second or two we'll have a look at the Julia Child version from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. But the simple fact is that, done properly, it's quite a fiddly dish, We'll start with a basic version which I used to make. Not authentic, but tasty.
Quantities are approximate. If you allow about 100g of onions per serving, you won't go far wrong. And if you make too much? Second day soup is always better.
Tom's French Onion Soup circa 1990 (this is the half recipe)
Ingredients
Lots of thinly sliced onions; tin or two of good beef consommé; clove of garlic, crushed; some Worcester sauce; glug of dry sherry; butter and oil for cooking; s & p.
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Sweat the onions in the butter and oil, along with the garlic, for as long as you can be arsed. For preference get a bit of colour on them to look moderately authentic. Season with s & p. Add the consommé and simmer for a bit. As you taste it you will realise that your mixture has relatively little flavour. That's why the real thing has onions done for an hour and well browned. So you jazz up your insipid liquid with a good few splashes of Lea and Perrins and simmer some more. It's getting better. Ideally let the ingredients mingle. After a while pour in a (small) glug of dry sherry and simmer some more. If you're lucky, the final result will be quite nice, and will be better tomorrow.
Julia Child's French Onion Soup
I'm quoting her recipe verbatim in italics. My comments are below.
Ingredients
700g thinly sliced onions; 45g of butter; 1 tbsp oil; 1 tsp salt; 1/4 tsp sugar; 45g flour*; 1.5 litres boiling brown stock; 140ml dry white wine or vermouth; salt and pepper; 3 tbsp cognac; rounds of hard toasted French bread; 200 - 300 g grated Swiss cheese.
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The onions for an onion soup need a long, slow cooking and butter and oil, then a long, slow simmering in stock for them to develop the deep, rich flavour which characterises a perfect brew. You should therefore count on 2½ hours at least from start to finish. Though the preliminary cooking in butter requires some watching, the actual simmering can proceed almost unattended.
Cook the onions slowly with the butter and oil in a covered saucepan for 15 minutes. Uncover, raise heat to moderate, and stir in the salt and sugar. Cook for 30 to 40 minutes, stirring frequently, until the onions have turned an even, deep, golden Brown. Sprinkle in the flour* and stir for 3 minutes.
Away from the heat, blend in the boiling liquid. Add the wine, and season to taste. Simmer partially covered for 30 to 40 minutes or more, skimming occasionally. Correct seasoning.
Just before serving, stir in the cognac. Pour into a soup terrine or soup cups over the rounds of bread and pass the cheese separately.**
*As you may know, I have a deep dislike of things thickened with flour, unless it's with meat at the start of the browning process for a pie. My chef pals also tell me that with so many people being, or claiming to be, gluten intolerant, it's something they just don't do these days.
** How interesting. While Julia does suggest the toasted cheesy thing as a possible garnish, at no time does she advocate chucking it on the top. Not my recent experience in France itself.
Cream of Onion Soup
Can't be bothered with all that fuss? Who can blame you? Try instead this easy peasy alternative. While it's called cream of onion, cream itself isn't essential. For thickening you could add a finely chopped potato, or blitz it all, or blitz half of it, leaving some body to the veg. I'm reminding myself that I haven't made this for some time. For this one, I'd chop my onions into medium size cubes rather than long bits. Here you really are just sweating them gently until soft - a quarter of the time of the last recipe. And as time is at a premium here, I'm doing the recipe in the style of Elizabeth David or Meg Johnston.
Ingredients
Some onions, chopped; stick of celery, very finely chopped, (optional, but if using it don't forget to string it); a clove of garlic, crushed; butter and oil for cooking; perhaps a very finely chopped potato for thickening (see above); chicken stock; perhaps a grating of nutmeg; s & p (obviously): some double cream if you fancy (Elmlea works very well for the non cream eaters. It also caters for vegetarians, but the chicken stock doesn't).
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Just the usual, really. Sweat all your onions and, if using, the celery very gently along with the garlic. After a few minutes add the potato, then cook until until soft. I might be tempted to use butter only but you have to be careful not to burn. Season at the outset - a little nutmeg is good too, but ca' canny. Pour in the stock and simmer for a bit. Then you have the decision to make. To whoosh or not to whoosh, that is the question. If you've used tattie, it's essential. If not, your call. Add your cream at the end, cook a little more, then check the seasoning.
It is actually much more tasty than this perfunctory recipe has made it sound.