Seafood Bourride: A delicious, creative mix of Mediterranean flavors

There are countless variations on bourride, a traditional Mediterranean seafood soup/stew. This one, prepared by our friend Mellen and served over Israeli couscous, was the best thing we ate by far on a weekend trip to Washington, DC. Recipe below.

mellen-seafood-bourride2

When I started Blue Kitchen way back in the fall of aught-six, I had great plans for having occasional guest cooks do posts here. So far, I’ve failed miserably. Aside from Marion [a co-conspirator here, really, not a guest], I’ve only had one guest cook, the lovely Patricia of Technicolor Kitchen, who made her delicious Brazilian Rice and Beans. When I smelled this wonderfully fragrant stew percolating in Mellen’s kitchen, I knew it was high time I made good on my plans.

Our friends Mellen and Steve live in a beautiful 1800s house in the historic, convenient and cosmopolitan DuPont Circle neighborhood of Washington, DC. The neighborhood is home to foreign embassies, ethnic restaurants, art galleries and shops—and is the center of DC’s vibrant nightlife. So when they invited us to come visit them for a long weekend, it took very little arm twisting to get us there. Mellen and Steve—and Mellen’s kids Madeleine and Taylor—were gracious hosts. Madeleine even gave up her room for us. The whole weekend, conversation flowed like wine. So did the wine, often on their rooftop deck.

In today’s second post, I’ll talk about some of the DC stuff we did on our visit, with a focus on food. But now I’m going to concentrate on this delicious seafood stew/soup. A bourride [boo-REED] is a Mediterranean fish soup, something like a bouillabaisse but with a consistency more like stew. There are probably as many variations on it as there are cooks who make it, and options vary wildly, from suspiciously quick and simple to complex and slow-cooking. Many use thick slices of toasted bread as a base, others call for potatoes. Mellen uses large, pearly Israeli couscous. One common thread among all recipes, though, is making the most of plentiful fresh seafood in the region. Continue reading “Seafood Bourride: A delicious, creative mix of Mediterranean flavors” →

A big, warm bowl of comfort: Roasted cauliflower and dill soup

Roasting the cauliflower mellows its flavor in this hearty, creamy [but dairy-free] Roasted Cauliflower and Dill Soup. Substitute vegetable broth for the chicken stock and you’ve got a satisfying vegan meal. Recipe below.

A quick note: I’ve totally dropped the ball in terms of providing any ideas for Thanksgiving this year. But at the end of the post, I’ll provide a few links for some interesting sides.

As proof that you just never know where inspiration will strike, this soup started out as a tuna sandwich. On a recent Sunday, that’s what sounded good for lunch. But Marion and I wanted our sandwiches on better bread than we had at home, so we walked up to Kurowski Sausage Shop, a Polish deli/grocery/bakery in our neighborhood. By the time we had walked the five or so blocks in the brisk November air, though, some soup was sounding pretty good—and Kurowski serves up delicious homemade soups fresh and cheap in their refrigerator case.

After flirting with bigos and borscht and some other Eastern European delights, we settled on a hearty cauliflower soup flecked with fresh dill. Being no fools, we got two containers—a whopping $1.29 each. Back home, the tuna sandwiches became half-sandwiches, bit players to the soup’s star performance. And as I leaned over my steaming bowl with big chunks of cauliflower and carrots, I knew I would be attempting my own version soon. Continue reading “A big, warm bowl of comfort: Roasted cauliflower and dill soup” →

Lightening up, speeding up a New Orleans classic

A lightened version of a New Orleans classic, Red Beans & Rice. Recipe below.

Last week I talked about cold soup. This week I do a 180, with hearty, spicy red beans and rice. A couple of weeks ago, we had a cold, gray spell in Chicago that gave me a hankering for some. I started with two recipes—one way too simple, the other a little too busy sounding—and created my own. But you don’t have to wait for cold weather to make it—anyone from Louisiana will tell you that any day is a good day for red beans and rice.

A traditional dish throughout southern Louisiana—and particularly linked to New Orleans—red beans and rice was actually born out of two traditions. Many families couldn’t afford to buy meat for their meals every day, but a ham dinner was a Sunday tradition. And that meant there would be a ham bone left over for Monday.

Mondays were also the traditional day for doing laundry—this was back before automatic washing machines and two-income families. So as load after load of wash was done, either by hand or in old-fashioned wringer washers [my grandmother actually still used one of the later models when I was a kid and hung her wash out to dry in the backyard], it was easy to have a big pot of beans with that ham bone simmering on the stove for hours, with just an occasional stir as you passed through the kitchen. And that made red beans and rice the perfect traditional Monday night dinner all across southern Louisiana.

Besides being amazingly flavorful with all those Cajun or Creole seasonings, this dish was practical. Beans served with rice was a great source of protein when people couldn’t afford to eat a lot of meat. And a big pot of beans could feed a big family cheaply. It was reasonably low in fat too, depending on how much actual meat had survived the Sunday dinner.

The way this dish has evolved, though, it’s anything but low in fat. Some recipes still call for a ham bone—or more often, ham hocks [which epicurious.com describes as “the lower portion of a hog’s hind leg, made up of meat, fat, bone, gristle and connective tissue,” usually cured or smoked or both]. But now it also almost invariably includes some kind of smoked sausage—classically, andouille or else kielbasa or some other smoked sausage. Read “fat bomb.”

I’ve lightened up this New Orleans classic considerably, without sacrificing flavor or stick-to-your-ribs heartiness. First, I use a lighter sausage with less fat. It’s still not exactly Weight Watchers, though—if you check the nutrition chart, you’ll see even the light versions contain an impressive amount of fat. And for that reason, I use half the amount of sausage a similar recipe calls for and substitute chicken breast or turkey cutlets.

I’ve sped it up too, with the help of canned beans. It still takes a little over an hour to pull together, but most of that time is just letting it simmer to blend all the flavors together. In other words, maybe time to cycle through one load of laundry if you’re feeling in a traditional mood. Continue reading “Lightening up, speeding up a New Orleans classic” →