Seasonal Shmegegee: Buttercup Soup
As I was walking home from the gym, swearing to god I’d be a better Jew if he could give me the strength to say no to carbs this holiday season, I passed by my local farmer’s market.
It occurred to me that my empty-fridge approach to dieting was not a good one. Weight Watchers grants dieters unlimited amounts of certain foods; sexy stuff like water, broccoli, celery and carrots; fibrous fat free alternatives to my usual chocolate, pasta, and cheese. It's best to fill up on the forgiving when trying to lose weight.
I’m not sure what attracts the hipsters to my market, but that’s who lurks amongst the cruciferous vegetables and tubers. From what I can tell, these folks purchase vegetables as decor for their home, an alternate to that retro ashtray.
Lest ye think I fib, witness the following conversation I heard while waiting on line:
Customer 1: “Those beets you're holding are like, amazing looking. They like still have their stems and leaves. They’re so cute and like, real and beet-y, and like from the farm. I love them.”
Customer 2: “Yah, I know, I had to have them. I totally love them.”
Pause. Pause. Pause.
Customer 2: “Want to hear something really crazy?”
Customer 1 gives a nonverbal invitation to crazy-share.
Customer 2 “I’ve never cooked beets.”
Customer 1: “Weird. You're a vegetarian, right? So weird.”
Customer 2: “Actually, I'm a flexitarian, so I'm an omnivore, but whatevs. Anyway beets, I mean, how hard can it be, right? Like, I’m basically going to boil them, right?”
Customer 1: “Or roast them, right? Like in an oven?”
Customer 2: “Yah, totally. Um, but I should like blanch them before I roast them, right?”
[Blanching a beet before roasting is like rinsing a box of dried pasta before you boil it.]
Customer 1: “Definitely. Definitely blanch them and then roast them. I mean, like, you have to. Or they'd be gross.”
Customer 2: “Yah. Totally gross. They’re like so pretty. Yah.”
Listen up ladies, these are beets. Not a scarf, not earrings, not a pair of shoes. If you don’t know how to cook them, that’s okay, but admit it and then go home and figure it out. Don’t toss around terms that don’t make sense. You sound like a couple of shmegeggees, and that's not hip.
Personally, I’m totally stumped by those cute little buttercup squashes. They’re everywhere, mocking me like little orange and green striped turbans. So I took one home, and did a little web research. Three recipes for buttercups on epicurious. Only seven on foodnetwork. There are more recipes for toast.
I was like a new mother without Spock; I’d have to rely on my instincts.
So I peeled the thing (major pain), sliced it and roasted it with an onion and a couple of sprigs of thyme. When it was golden and soft, I pureed it with some buttermilk and maple syrup (it’s what I had), and was in keeping with my hopes of thinness.
It was really good. Subtle, interesting; a muted peach-orange color, creamy, and a wee bit tart. Gentle. It wasn’t rocket science, but it was different and good and I’d tried something new.
Moral of the story: this fall (maybe for the holidays) pick up something you’ve never cooked before. For the sake of your waistline (and community involvement), make it a vegetable from the farmers market. Research, then give it a go. If it fails, order out. If it succeeds, you just made a new friend.
What’s to stop you? All you have to lose is that which you don't know.
Buttercup Soup
The fun in this soup is the double-butter; buttermilk, buttercup, yet virtually fat free. Even better, because of those onions it's super creamy.
Makes 4 to 6 servings.
1 small buttercup squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch wedges
1 vidalia onion, cut into 1-inch wedges
5 sprigs thyme
1 tablespoon olive oil
Salt
3/4 cup buttermilk
1 1/4 cups skim milk
1 tablespoon maple syrup
Minced chives, for garnish
1. Preheat oven to 425. Place squash, onion and thyme sprigs on a roasting pan, drizzle with oil and sprinkle with salt; toss. Place in oven until golden and soft, about 25 to 35 minutes.
2. Discard thyme sprigs, and place roasted vegetables in a blender. Add buttermilk, skim milk and maple syrup; puree. Add more liquid if needed, choose buttermilk for more tartness and skim for less.
3. Pass soup through a strainer; remove and discard solids. Adjust seasonings as desired. Serve soup warm or chilled, garnished with chives.
It occurred to me that my empty-fridge approach to dieting was not a good one. Weight Watchers grants dieters unlimited amounts of certain foods; sexy stuff like water, broccoli, celery and carrots; fibrous fat free alternatives to my usual chocolate, pasta, and cheese. It's best to fill up on the forgiving when trying to lose weight.
I’m not sure what attracts the hipsters to my market, but that’s who lurks amongst the cruciferous vegetables and tubers. From what I can tell, these folks purchase vegetables as decor for their home, an alternate to that retro ashtray.
Lest ye think I fib, witness the following conversation I heard while waiting on line:
Customer 1: “Those beets you're holding are like, amazing looking. They like still have their stems and leaves. They’re so cute and like, real and beet-y, and like from the farm. I love them.”
Customer 2: “Yah, I know, I had to have them. I totally love them.”
Pause. Pause. Pause.
Customer 2: “Want to hear something really crazy?”
Customer 1 gives a nonverbal invitation to crazy-share.
Customer 2 “I’ve never cooked beets.”
Customer 1: “Weird. You're a vegetarian, right? So weird.”
Customer 2: “Actually, I'm a flexitarian, so I'm an omnivore, but whatevs. Anyway beets, I mean, how hard can it be, right? Like, I’m basically going to boil them, right?”
Customer 1: “Or roast them, right? Like in an oven?”
Customer 2: “Yah, totally. Um, but I should like blanch them before I roast them, right?”
[Blanching a beet before roasting is like rinsing a box of dried pasta before you boil it.]
Customer 1: “Definitely. Definitely blanch them and then roast them. I mean, like, you have to. Or they'd be gross.”
Customer 2: “Yah. Totally gross. They’re like so pretty. Yah.”
Listen up ladies, these are beets. Not a scarf, not earrings, not a pair of shoes. If you don’t know how to cook them, that’s okay, but admit it and then go home and figure it out. Don’t toss around terms that don’t make sense. You sound like a couple of shmegeggees, and that's not hip.
Personally, I’m totally stumped by those cute little buttercup squashes. They’re everywhere, mocking me like little orange and green striped turbans. So I took one home, and did a little web research. Three recipes for buttercups on epicurious. Only seven on foodnetwork. There are more recipes for toast.
I was like a new mother without Spock; I’d have to rely on my instincts.
So I peeled the thing (major pain), sliced it and roasted it with an onion and a couple of sprigs of thyme. When it was golden and soft, I pureed it with some buttermilk and maple syrup (it’s what I had), and was in keeping with my hopes of thinness.
It was really good. Subtle, interesting; a muted peach-orange color, creamy, and a wee bit tart. Gentle. It wasn’t rocket science, but it was different and good and I’d tried something new.
Moral of the story: this fall (maybe for the holidays) pick up something you’ve never cooked before. For the sake of your waistline (and community involvement), make it a vegetable from the farmers market. Research, then give it a go. If it fails, order out. If it succeeds, you just made a new friend.
What’s to stop you? All you have to lose is that which you don't know.
Buttercup Soup
The fun in this soup is the double-butter; buttermilk, buttercup, yet virtually fat free. Even better, because of those onions it's super creamy.
Makes 4 to 6 servings.
1 small buttercup squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch wedges
1 vidalia onion, cut into 1-inch wedges
5 sprigs thyme
1 tablespoon olive oil
Salt
3/4 cup buttermilk
1 1/4 cups skim milk
1 tablespoon maple syrup
Minced chives, for garnish
1. Preheat oven to 425. Place squash, onion and thyme sprigs on a roasting pan, drizzle with oil and sprinkle with salt; toss. Place in oven until golden and soft, about 25 to 35 minutes.
2. Discard thyme sprigs, and place roasted vegetables in a blender. Add buttermilk, skim milk and maple syrup; puree. Add more liquid if needed, choose buttermilk for more tartness and skim for less.
3. Pass soup through a strainer; remove and discard solids. Adjust seasonings as desired. Serve soup warm or chilled, garnished with chives.
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 10:33 AM
2 Comments:
sounds decadent...love the double butter.....thanks yet again
YKW
If you are interested in more flexitarian recipes I would recommend The Flexitarian Diet by Dawn Jackson Blatner, RD. http://www.dawnjacksonblatner.com
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