The Rake Magazine

Tag: soup

  • Sometimes All the Time

    Jonah’s
    throat was sore, lately. It hadn’t bothered him in the last couple
    days, but Jonah still waited for the pain to resurface, so that whenever
    he swallowed it would feel like swallowing sand, like it had for the
    past month or so. This waiting made him impatient, but the painkillers
    he took somewhat tempered his anxiety. Right now he had a eucalyptus
    lozenge in his mouth, and he bit down on it – not all the way through,
    just so his molars sunk in halfway.

    There
    were eleven tables, and he placed the salt-and-pepper shakers and the
    miniature Tabasco bottles from each on his cocktail tray. Becky followed
    behind him, blowing out the tea lights (too hard: wax fanned out against
    the sides of the candleholders) and wiping the tables with a bleach-soaked
    rag. In the office – a desk and laptop behind a velveteen curtain
    – their manager settled the credit cards and listened to vintage rock
    radio, the songs muffled and heartfelt through the drape, and Jonah
    and Becky knew that really they were actually alone.

    "I’m
    coming over later, still," Becky said.

    "Yeah
    that’s cool," said Jonah. "If you want." He paused at a four-top
    by the front windows, and looked up and out over Lake Calhoun, trying
    to find one of the half dozen or so constellations he could recognize,
    but it was too cloudy, or maybe the lights from the bars and condominiums
    in Uptown Minneapolis were too bright and distracting, or the Percocets
    he’d taken dampened the stars like they did his feelings (physical,
    emotional, and otherwise), or maybe the stars tonight were dimmer than
    usual, farther away and burning out. He scribbled something on a guest
    check that later, when he tries to re-write it into his astronomy journal,
    he will be unable to read.

    "I
    want," Becky said. She slid into a booth and began to polish silverware.

    She
    had two blond streaks in her hair, interwoven with the black. Nights
    they spent together, Jonah guessed what her original color had been,
    but Becky wouldn’t tell him. Also – and this was maybe more important,
    at least to Jonah – she couldn’t come during sex, or at least not
    with him, or at least not yet; he asked her why she wanted to sleep
    with him so often, why she was so insistent, but she wouldn’t tell
    him that, either.

    "Okay,
    then," Jonah said. "I’ll call you after Jenna’s gone, I guess."

    He
    sat down next to her, making sure the outsides of their legs touched
    under the table, but Becky scooted away.

    Jenna,
    his friend, ex-girlfriend, possibly hopefully girlfriend-soon-to-be,
    was coming tonight to pick up their dog because Jonah worked longer
    hours on weekends. He did not like this arrangement: the time he spent
    away from Rabbit was confusing and remarkably un-linear. Tomorrow, Friday,
    Jonah will wake up the same time as usual, but realizing his dog is
    not there needing to be let out, he will fall back asleep, and in the
    two days after, his sleep will drift later and later into the morning,
    and the events of his day will be without the regular, nearly grammatical
    punctuation of walking Rabbit. Which is why tonight he was thinking
    about trying to convince Jenna to move back in with him.

    "What
    time will that be?" Becky asked. She wiped a pair of wet spoons with
    a black napkin.

    "The
    usual time. I don’t know. I just thought I should tell you, is all."

    "You
    shouldn’t have," Becky said.

    She
    was wearing a pair of his soccer socks – they came up to the middle
    of her thighs, the Puma logo stretched around her kneecaps – and Jonah
    thought it was strange how easily and comfortably she’d been able
    to insinuate herself into his life. That was, actually, the most fascinating
    aspect of their now-month-long relationship: its normalcy. After only
    a couple nights together, symbiotic sleeping positions and synchronized
    wakings had been established. Jonah was impressed with himself for this
    because he considered Becky to be a little too good for him. Not because
    she was too pretty, though maybe also for that reason, but because she
    seemed so sad, and wise in her sadness, (and pretty in her sadness),
    and for him melancholy trumped beauty: it was a sort of barometer for
    how human one was. And Becky couldn’t even say why she was on the
    anti-depressants she was on – she’d tried explaining several times
    and just given up – and this intrigued Jonah and turned him on a little.

    Right
    now, he loved the way she stopped rolling silverware, and brushed crumbs
    from the booth to the floor, hair hanging forward in a way that exposed
    the sparrow she had tattooed below her left ear.

    "What’s
    wrong?" he asked.

    "Nothing."

    "What’s
    nothing?"

    "Nothing’s
    this big void in the universe. Scientists aren’t sure if it actually
    exists or not, but it does. I feel it a lot."

    Jonah
    coughed, and then spit into a beverage napkin – candy lozenge shards,
    mostly – which he folded and put in his apron.

    "Is
    your throat okay?" Becky moved closer to him. "I hope it’s not
    strep. I don’t have the energy to get sick right now."

    "I’m
    fine, I think," he said, taking a pill from his pocket.

    "I
    can get you more, if you want," she said. "It might be generic this
    time, but basically the same. I’ll ask my guy. Then I’ll bring it
    over tonight, if you’ll let me over. Whatever. I’m hot. You’re
    dumb."

    Later,
    after the chairs are all flipped over onto the tables and the lights
    turned out, after the manager unlocks the restaurant doors so they can
    leave, and Jenna come and Jenna gone and Becky and Jonah in bed together,
    the night crew will come to sweep and mop and bleach the floors.

  • Souper Tuesday

    After the all the caucusing, I’m sure you’ll want to burrow into the couch with a piping hot bowl of intellegence and comfort. With each spoonful you’ll feel better, listen a little less to the talking head on the TV and a little more to your inner voice. Soup is egalitarian, soup doesn’t make snide remarks, soup is there for YOU. Saddle up, get your stock bubbling, it’s going to be a long year.

    For the Hillarites, maybe a hearty chicken noodle soup, just like mom used to make.

    For the Obamicans, a rich yet humble wild rice soup to take the edge off the rollicking-crazy changes life is bringing.

    McCainsters might enjoy a little Algerian Jary soup which will give you much needed zing while ensuring long life and good health.

    Mittmen, something with ketch-up? Or this creamy, spicy, crabby soup that tries to cover all the bases?

    And for those that still heart Huckabee, how about a hunter’s stew that’s as tough as Chuck Norris.

    Undecided? Eat Senate Bean Soup every day until you can make a decision.

  • Take the Chill Off

    It’s winter. You’re cold, you’re broke, and you spent the entire month of December eating too much. You made a few New Year’s resolutions, and you want to keep them. You don’t need a bunch of fine dining recommendations.

    You need soup: warm, filling, and cheap, it’s the perfect antidote to cold, fat, and broke.

    I’m not talking about those red and white cans of Campbell’s that have impoverished the very concept of soup for so many, or even that little cup of tomato basil that comes with the soup-and-sandwich special. I’m talking about a meal in a bowl, from one of the many cultures around the world where soup is celebrated.

    Take China. Odds are when you think of Chinese soups you think wonton, and the typical wonton soup at Chinese restaurant these days is a disgrace—thin broth and soggy pasta dumplings with a tiny bit of minced meat at the center.

    The real wonton soup is a whole different kettle of dumplings. It has a rich homemade stock and fat pouches filled with minced pork, mushrooms, and more; and it’s cooked to order, so the wontons are firm, not mushy.

    But wonton soups are just the beginning. My favorite Chinese noodle soup is beef brisket, typically made with big chunks of stewed meat and tendon in an aromatic broth scented with star anise. As you eat, you slurp, and the hot, aromatic steam rises into your nostrils.

    The newest and most stylish of the restaurants that serve Chinese meal-in-a-bowl soups is Pagoda in Dinkytown. They let you design your own soup: You select a broth (chicken or pork), a noodle (the four options include Japanese udon), and as many fillings as you want from a list that includes beef brisket, curried squid, beef balls, fish balls, and more. It costs $3.95 for noodles and broth, plus a dollar more per ingredient.

    Pagoda also offers several kinds of congee, the savory rice porridge that is the ultimate comfort food. Some people find it bland, but at its best, it’s deceptively simple and wonderfully nuanced, studded with chewy shreds of pork and slippery morsels of gelatinous preserved egg, and scented with slivered ginger, chopped green onions, and aromatic fresh coriander. Other top spots for traditional Chinese noodle soups and congees include Hong Kong Noodle, Keefer Court, Shuang Cheng, Village Wok, Relax (the former Yummy), and Mandarin Kitchen.

    By now most American gastronomic adventurers are familiar with at least one or two soups from the Vietnamese repertoire: pho, the beef noodle soup from the north; and hu tieu, made with roast pork, shrimp, and squid (originally from Cambodia). The many variations of pho range from a simple rare sliced beef with rice noodles to a combination of sliced beef, brisket, tripe, tendons, and meatballs. Regardless of type, it should be served with fresh chopped coriander on top and a side dish of basil and other fresh herbs, bean sprouts, and lime wedges.

    Moving beyond pho and hu tieu, many better Vietnamese restaurants also offer bun bo hue, a hot and spicy noodle soup from central Vietnam; and bo kho, an intensely flavorful beef stew (misleadingly described as curry), which can be ordered with rice noodles, egg noodles, or a French baguette. For the truly adventuresome, Quang serves chao long, a rice porridge made with pork intestines and other innards, on weekends. My other favorite spots for Vietnamese soups include Pho Tau Bay and K-Wok in Minneapolis, and Ngon Bistro, Trieu Chau, and Hoa Bien in St. Paul.

    If you like it spicy, it’s hard to beat the selection at Peninsula, the Malaysian restaurant just up the street from Quang. Their beef curry soup with egg noodles is intensely flavorful without being overpoweringly spicy, but my favorite is the nyonya laksa, a curried coconut-milk soup brimming with tofu, chicken, shrimp, bean sprouts, and rice noodles. You can also find a decent version of curry laksa soup, along with a few other Malaysian dishes, at K-Wok, the Vietnamese/Chinese restaurant at Cedar and Riverside. And for a terrific selection of hearty Cambodian noodle soups, both spicy and mild, visit Cheng Heng, on University Avenue in St. Paul, where you’ll find distinctively Khmer versions of Vietnamese pho and Thailand’s hot-and-sour tom yum.

    Japan gave us ramen, the instant noodle soup packets that are a mainstay of college dorms and employee lunchrooms. You can find a more refined version of ramen, topped with roast pork, bamboo shoots, and fish cake on the lunch menu at Origami, but most other local Japanese restaurants base their soup repertoires on two other traditional noodles: fat wheat udon, and chewy brown buckwheat soba.

    My two favorite spots for Japanese noodle soups are Midori’s Floating World Café in Minneapolis, and Tanpopo Noodle Shop in St. Paul’s Lowertown. Tanpopo’s nabeyaki udon is a composition with the elegant simplicity of a haiku: noodles, shrimp tempura, sliced chicken, fish cake, Japanese omelet, and seaweed, presented steaming hot in a pottery bowl.

    Korea has very cold winters, and the best of the Korean restaurants around town, like King’s Korean, Mirror of Korea, Kum Gang San, and Hoban, all offer soups to warm your innards. Mandoo kook is Korea’s answer to wonton soup—dumplings filled with beef, cabbage, and tofu (ingredients vary) served in a clear flavorful broth. My favorite, cham pong, is made with spaghetti-like noodles and mixed seafood (typically, shrimp, octopus, and mussels), as well as napa cabbage, green onions, onions, and carrots. Adventuresome eaters will want to try kimchi chigae, a very spicy stew of fermented cabbage, tofu, green onions, and pork in a hot pepper broth.

    Asian cuisines, of course, don’t have the lock on great soup. The most famous Mexican soup is probably menudo, the spicy tripe and hominy soup traditionally served as a hangover cure. (A word to the squeamish: Even though I shy away from liver, kidneys, and most other organ meats, I actually like tripe, which has a mild flavor and a pleasantly chewy texture.) Many restaurants serve menudo only on weekends, but Pancho Villa and Tacos Morelos make it every day. Beyond menudo, Pancho Villa offers a traditional caldo de res and caldo de pollo (stewed beef or chicken in broth with big chunks of vegetables), and a spectacular caldo 7 mares (“Seven Seas”), full of shrimp, octopus, mussels, squid, and crab legs, swimming in a spicy red broth. I also enjoyed their pozole, a traditional soup made with pork and hominy that dates to pre-Columbian times. Order it rojo—red—for the extra kick of chili peppers.

    Kramarczuk’s Deli on East Hennepin in Minneapolis usually has about half a dozen soups on hand, including the classic Eastern European winter-beater, a beet and cabbage broth. This hearty version also has lots of chunks of stewed beef. It’s a bright rose color when served, and changes to a lascivious shade of pink when you stir in sour cream, as is the custom. A bowl of this borscht, with a few slices of rye bread and butter, and you are ready to face a Ukrainian winter, or a Minneapolis snowstorm. For variety, try the sweet and sour version at the Brothers Deli in downtown Minneapolis, where you can also find pretty good chicken noodle and matzo ball soups.

    Speaking of which, for first-rate chicken noodle soup, head to Yum! Kitchen & Bakery in St. Louis Park, where you can add matzo balls à la carte. Yum! also offers a delicious creamy, chunky tomato basil soup and a hearty gumbo, served over rice and brimming with andouille sausage, chicken, shrimp, and okra.

    One more favorite spot for soups is the Fireroast Mountain Café. Owner Lisa Piper makes two a day, at least one vegetaria
    n, ranging from smoked beef with roasted poblano to apple-parsnip, potato-leek, and chicken-and-veggies-with-rice varieties. Combine that with one of Lisa’s terrific homemade desserts, like the signature Mexican chocolate cake, or apple spice cake with walnut topping, and you’ve got a hearty lunch—plus change from a ten-dollar bill. (Full disclosure: Lisa and her husband/co-owner Dave Clark are friends.)

    If you work your way around the Cities to all of these restaurants, that should be enough soups to keep you going ’til spring, but it’s hardly a complete list. If you have favorites to add, drop me a line at iggers@rakemag.com, and I will add them to my Breaking Bread blog.