Blue Flower Soup & Lessons on Friendship

In the past, no one would EVER have described me as a socialite.

It's not so much that I don't like people, but I've always drawn fairly definitive lines when it comes to "friends" and "acquaintances."

For me, acquaintances are people you run into at the grocery store or exchange passing waves with at the post office -- but most certainly NOT the people you choose to hang out with, reveal yourself to, or go out of your way to seek out.  Friends are the ones who fulfill our need for human connection, bonding, and community.  Not strangers. Whenever someone would ask about my friends, I'd always tell them that, for me, it was about quality not quantity, and that I could count the number of friends I had on one hand.

I'm a very loyal person who tends to hold her friends to exceedingly high standards. My devotion to my friends is probably somewhat unusual in its depth and breadth (I really believe friends are worth sacrifice) -- and, I can point to specific scenarios where my loyalty has actually caused conflict due to incompatible (and arguably unrealistic) expectations in my relationships.

So, when I came to Peef four years ago and told him I was planning on putting together an event called Soup Night -- a no RSVP required, large scale, everyone's invited sortofa gala -- he probably looked at me like I was completely nuts.  But, I persisted, insisting that I really wanted to open up my home to others, to build community, and really give myself a chance to get to know people who might otherwise remain strangers.

Rather than shutting me down, Peef fed my dream.  And Soup Night was born.

This year, we've had a particularly rich series of soup nights.  And, for the first time, I feel as if the concept that I had in my head all along is really coming to fruition.  Strangers are making connections. Old friendships are being renewed.  And I'm beginning to realize that our lives are enriched by a seriously awesome group of people.

Even better, much like the villagers from the old Stone Soup folk tale, on Soup Night everyone takes part in this amazing community of nourishment -- both physical and spiritual. There's adventure. And sharing. And somehow, regardless of how many people show up, there's always... enough. It's like nothing I've ever seen before.

This past weekend marked the final Soup Night for 2011.  And it was lovely.  We served three soups -- Reuben (with toasted rye croutons & Swiss cheese), Red Lentil (best when topped with a spritz of fresh lemon juice), and Blue Flower Soup (a creamy cauliflower soup with cracked anise & blue cheese).

Guests brought wine, loaves of French bread, awesome goat cheese, pear, and walnut appetizers, cookies made with delicious homemade poppyseed paste, deliciously addicting Bacon Bourbon Popcorn, cheesecake bars, and chocolate cherry meringues.

And people stayed well past their usual 7:30pm departure time.  It was as if we all knew a good thing was coming to an end and we wanted to make the most of it.


I still believe in quality over quantity.  However, in the past few years I've been blessed to meet quite a number of amazing people who I feel privileged to call my friends.  And soup night has been a big part of that.

Thanks to every single one of you who came... and shared... and participated in my dream.
I can't wait for next year!

Red Lentil Soup
Blue Flower Soup



©BURP! Where Food Happens
Want more? Read Lo's latest ruminations at FOODCrush, her Milwaukee Magazine blog.

Pasta with Winter Squash Sauce, Chorizo, & Greens

Spring in Wisconsin is a fickle beast.
Just last week, we were enjoying gorgeous sunny days with temperatures close to sixty degrees. The breeze was sweet and light, and I was just beginning to get into the mood for serious spring fare like asparagus, fresh peas. Premature, I know, especially since we won't be seeing local asparagus or peas until May or June (and you really can't beat the flavor of fresh local spring produce). But, a girl can hope.

Unfortunately, that little taste of fine weather ended up to be just that... a taste.  And, as of this week, the weather is dreary and drippy and downright COLD.

Maybe it's God's way of preventing me from being tempted by all that organic California asparagus showing up on the shelves at Outpost Natural Foods.  Or maybe it's the last little boost I need to actually make good use of the last of the delicious food I've got stored up in the freezer.  Either way, I'm making peace with the idea that, despite what the calendar may indicate, spring has not quite arrived.

The fact is, I've got the perfect solution to a wet, cold spring day.  It's called winter squash sauce. And I've got a freezer full of it at my disposal.

The concept for this sauce was born nearly five months ago. On a brisk but sunny Saturday last October, we headed off to the market and stocked up on winter squash. I bought a number of fabulous heirloom varieties -- beautiful creamy yellow & green acorn squash, thin-skinned delicata, pimply Galeux d'Eysines, gorgeously hued Queensland Blue squash, and huge old style butternut squash.

We ate quite a bit of the squash roasted simply.  I made gratins, risottos, and wonderful steamy bowls of squash soup.  And then, after we'd eaten our fill of fresh squash, I started freezing squash puree for use in future recipes.  And I decided to get to work on squash sauce -- something I envisioned as not only a stand-in for the standard tomato based sauce, but also a possible base for squash soup. 

I spent a good portion of the late fall and winter tweaking this recipe to get it just the way I wanted it -- sweet (but not TOO sweet), smooth, and complex.  Although it makes use of plenty of savory flavors including celery, onions, and tomato paste, it turns out that a few roasted red peppers were just the thing that ended up taking the sauce to a whole new level.

You could easily make this sauce any time of the year using storage squash or frozen squash puree. But, since it freezes well, it's a recipe to tuck away for one of those industrious autumn weekends when you feel like making best use of all that squash from the market.

Although the sauce is perfectly delicious on its own (or mixed with cream to make a delicious soup), it makes a delicious pasta --  paired with a bit of browned Mexican chorizo, sauteed greens, and cubes of deliciously salty Monterey Jack cheese -- and then baked in the oven until it's bubbly and browned and crisp around the edges.

Perfect comfort food for a rainy spring evening -- or anytime you have the hankering for something warm and nourishing.

Winter Squash Sauce


©BURP! Where Food Happens
Want more? Read Lo's latest ruminations at FOODCrush, her Milwaukee Magazine blog.