But sometimes, like today, when I’m staring down a 5-day old supply of butternut squash soup,  I remember that soup can be an ingredient. Heck, an entire generation of housewives depended on cans of Campbell’s for making sauces and casseroles.

Creamy, puréed soups can be made into surprisingly good soufflés. But I think just about any soup can make awesome couscous. (Well, except maybe a noodle soup. Then you’ve got semolina-on-semolina action. It might be a little weird.)

Ingredients

• 1 pint (16 oz) soup
• 1 to 1 1/3 cups couscous or whole wheat couscous (use less if your soup is thick, more if it’s thin)
• salt, to taste
• pepper, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, parmesan cheese, other tasty bits

1. Heat soup until it starts to boil. If it’s a cream soup, you don’t want it boiling long at all.
2. Kill the heat and add the couscous. Stir it in quickly just to even it out.
3. Cover tightly (the steam is what’s doing a lot of the work here) and leave for 5-10 minutes.
4. Uncover, fluff, and flavor. Unless your soup was overpoweringly salty, you’ll want to at least add more salt.

Eat the couscous as is, use it to make some sort of delicious couscous salad, or do what I do: drizzle on cream and eat it with a spoon.

I know how this looks. But trust me. It’s goddamn delicious.

Take a dark, non-hoppy beer, and top it with thick homemade whipped cream. I bet it’d be even better with a framboise.

J.K. Rowling may have said that she imagined butterbeer to taste “like less-sickly butterscotch,” but as far as I’m concerned this is what Harry chugged in The Three Broomsticks.

Omelettes. Manchego cheese. Pita bread.

Also, everything.

To make the yummy green paste that you can spread on just about anything:

Ingredients

• fava beans
• olive oil
• salt

1. Remove beans from pods.
2. Place beans in a pot and add enough water to cover. Bring to a boil.
3. Cook until skins burst open. Drain and cover with cold water to prevent overcooking.
4. Squeeze beans out of skins. They should slip out easily. Do it under cold running water to keep everything from getting too slimy.
5. Purée beans in a food processor. Add oil to reach desired consistency, and enough salt to make it taste great. You can add garlic or herbs too, but it’s easy to overpower the favas’ delicate flavor, so don’t go overboard.
6. Stash it in the fridge, and use it to smear on toast and sandwiches, stir into creamy sauces, fill omelettes or crêpes, make risotto…

My aunt and uncle gave me a bunch of tasty limes from their tree. Despite my best efforts to use them all up, one can only drink so many gin and tonics. Enter sherbet!

I’m happy with how this experiment turned out. The lime and honey flavors are nice and mild, so you can really taste the richness of the cream. It’d be great to serve alongside another delicately flavored dessert.

Ingredients

• juice of 2 limes (about ¼ cup)
• zest of 2 limes, grated or chopped very finely
• 1 tablespoon honey
• ¾ cup sugar
• 2 cups heavy cream
• 1¾ cup milk
• teensy pinch of salt

1. Mix that shit up.
2. Throw it in an ice cream churner.
3. Freeze.
4. Devour with pie or sugar cookies.

Using good, hot paprika makes all the difference.

Ingredients

• ½ lb seitan, sliced into ¼-inch strips
• 1 T hot paprika
• 3 T vegetable oil
• ¼ lb mushrooms, thinly sliced
• 1 C broth
• 2 T sherry vinegar
• 4 oz cream cheese
• 1-3 T heavy cream
• salt, to taste
• ½ lb pasta, cooked

1. Toss the seitan in the paprika, so that each piece is coated.
2. Heat oil in a large skillet. Add seitan and sauté for a few minutes, until the first side is cooked. Flip and cook the other side.
3. Remove seitan from pan and add mushrooms. Cook until tender.
4. Remove mushrooms from pan. Add broth and vinegar, and bring to a simmer.
5. Turn off heat and add cream cheese. Stir to dissolve — it’s going to look weird and curdled for a few minutes, but it will eventually melt into the sauce.
6. Add cooked seitan and mushrooms, and heavy cream to pan. Add salt as needed, and serve over noodles. Top with more heavy cream if desired.

(Or: out of beer, and the only thing in your liquor cabinet is rum?)

It’s time for hot buttered rum. This is how I’ve been making mine since I had a great one at Smuggler’s Cove and threw out my previous recipe.

Ingredients

• ¼ C (also 4 T or 2 oz) rum that you rather like
• ½ t ground mulling spices (mine is a mix of ginger, cinnamon, and cloves)
• 1 t brown sugar
• ½ C boiling water
• up to 1 t butter

1. Combine rum, spices, sugar, and water or juice in a small mug, and stir until spices and sugar have dissolved.
2. Ask yourself how much butter you’re really willing to drink, and cut off a sliver of butter the appropriate size. Float the butter on top of the liquid (as in, just let it sit on top) for theatrical effect, or stir it in as it melts if you prefer to hide your gluttony.
3. Garnish with a wee sprinkle of spices. Throw in a cinnamon stick if you’re feeling festive.

1.
Jamie showed me, and I then purchased, the teeniest circular knitting needles I’ve ever seen. I will never (EVER) have to break out a set of porcupine-like double pointed needles to knit a sweater again. Do you know how many sweaters projects I’ve abandoned just because I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sleeves? Never again.

2.
While Sam and I were looking for a place to eat lunch, we walked by Anchor Oyster Bar. I mentioned that after reading a very persuasive article on vegans eating oysters, I’d thought about trying them. His face lit up and he marched us into the restaurant.

I’ve never had oysters before, and aside from some occasional chicken broth, a small piece of fish, and exactly two bites of turkey, I haven’t eaten any animals since becoming a vegetarian eleven years ago. So oysters are sort of a big deal.

A big delicious deal. I had two of the little guys — the first one was on the house since I was an oyster virgin — and they were completely unlike what I expected. They weren’t rubbery or fishy, just flavorful and oh-so-delicate. Though I don’t think I could have much more than two in a single sitting.

3.
For lunch, I had a vegetarian chili cheeseburger at Harvey’s. It was less of a revelation than the oysters, but not by much.

This buttery, tasty dish will make a turnip-lover out of anyone. Serve with brown rice and steamed turnip greens for a healthy, satisfying meal. Serves 4

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 4 medium turnips, quartered and sliced ¼-inch thick
• 1 teaspoon coarse salt
• ½ teaspoon high-quality paprika (try smoked)

1. Melt butter with olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.
2. Add turnips, paprika, and salt, and stir to coat.
3. Continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until turnips are tender but not mushy (about 5-10 minutes).

Makes enough for a small army

Ingredients

• 3 medium-large cucumbers, peeled and diced
• 6 pounds heirloom tomatoes
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• more salt than you think you need
• pepper, to taste
• 3 T white wine vinegar
• 9 T olive oil

1. Toss the diced cucumbers with salt and set to drain in a colander for 20 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, prepare the tomatoes: remove skins by blanching for 30 seconds to 1 minute, then place in cold water. Skins will rub off. Cut out dense core, and puree in food processor, blender, or food mill.
3. Rinse cucumbers and dry with towel or in small batches in a salad spinner.
4. Combine tomato, cucumber, garlic, salt, and pepper in a large bowl.
5. Whisk together oil and vinegar, and stir into the soup.
6. Chill for a couple hours in the fridge.

Makes 12 pints

Ingredients

• thinly sliced cucumbers to pack 12 pint jars
• 1 bag ice
• ¾ C kosher salt
• 7½ C apple cider vinegar (I ran out, so it was 5 C cider vinegar and 2½ C white distilled vinegar — perfectly fine)
• 7½ C sugar
• 2¼ t turmeric
• 1 T whole mustard seed
• 1 T celery seed

1. Combine the sliced cucumbers, ice, and salt in a large container. Mix well and let stand for at least 3 hours. (This will give you crisp pickles!)
2. In a large pot, combine remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil and stir to dissolve sugar.
3. Drain, but do not rinse, the cucumbers. Distribute evenly between 12 pint jars.
4. Pour hot liquid into jars, allowing ½-inch headspace.
5. Process jars 10 minutes.

Ingredients

• 3 T butter
• 1 large zucchini, shredded
• 3 T flour
• 3 C broth
• 1/3 C nutritional yeast
• 1 T soy sauce
• salt, if needed (depends on the broth)
• pepper

1. Melt butter in a saucepan. Add zucchini and sauté until soft and transluscent, about 5 minutes.
2. Add flour and stir in. Cook, constantly stirring, for a few minutes.
3. Add broth. Bring to a boil.
4. Add nutritional yeast, soy sauce, salt, and pepper.
5. Cook at a low boil until sauce is smooth.
6. Find some fresh, hot biscuits. Smother them with gravy.

1. Baby carrots!

2. Baby beans!

3. Baby melons!

4. Baby heirloom tomatoes!

5. Baby butternut squash!

6. Baby broccoli!

7. Baby cucumber!

8. Ready-to-make-a-baby popcorn!

9. And finally, the height of my day, a sweet little frog chilling in a squash blossom.

Can we get a close-up?

Not that brown sugar is particularly ballsy. But it *is* particularly good. We had it with my caramel-topped birthday cake (from Fremont Diner!) last night and it was like they were meant to be.

Ingredients

• 1½ cup whole milk
• 1½ cup heavy cream
• ¾ cup brown sugar
• ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Combine all ingredients and stir until sugar is dissolved.
2. Pour into a 1½ quart ice cream maker and churn till it’s done.
3. Scoop into a container and freeze at least an hour before serving.

I had planned on (finally) making blackberry pie, but after I finished making the crust I realized that the berries had been sitting in the fridge far too long. After a fruitless search online for chocolate pie recipes that use cocoa powder, no evaporated milk, and no eggs, I remembered how much I used to love making quiche. Thank goodness.

We also had a couple fillets of rock cod that our friend Dave caught. (I’d include that recipe, but really you just dredge the fillets and then fry them.) And the daunting pile of sylvetta that I harvested earlier went into the food processor for a nice pesto.

Chard Quiche

(Adapted from Alton Brown’s Refrigerator Pie recipe.)

Ingredients

• 1 9-inch pie crust
• 1 smallish bunch chard (about ½ lb), tough stems removed and sliced horizontally into ½-inch strips
• ¼ cup onion, chopped
• 2 eggs
• ½ cup heavy cream
• ½ cup milk
• 2 pinches kosher salt
• just a wee bit of fresh grated nutmeg

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
2. Toss together chard and onion, and spread out evenly in the pie crust.
3. In a bowl, combine the eggs, dairy, salt, and nutmeg. Beat well.
4. Pour the egg mixture evenly into the pie crust.
5. Bake for 45 minutes, or until set.
6. Cool at least 10 minutes before eating.

Arugula Pesto

Ingredients

• ¼ pound arugula (about one very big handful)
• 3 cloves garlic
• pinch kosher salt
• 2-4 T olive oil

1. Place arugula, garlic, and salt in food processor. Process until arugula and garlic are puréed.
2. Drizzle in olive oil until the consistency looks right. Taste and adjust seasoning.
3. Serve over fish, pasta, or use as a spread for bread or sandwiches.

The trick to making barley tasty and not mushy is rocking the pilaf. Instead of a sticky, health-foody mess o glop, you get lovely little individual grains that pop oh so slightly when you chew them. Delicious!

Ingredients

• 2 T butter (or 1 if you’re wimpy/dieting/short on butter)
• 5 cloves garlic, minced
• 12 crimini mushrooms, sliced nice and thin
• hefty pinch of salt
• about 12 fresh sage leaves, cut into ribbons
• 1 C pearl barley
• 2 C water

1. Melt butter in a medium saucepan. Add garlic and cook until soft, then add mushrooms, salt, and sage, and cook until mushrooms are all nice and cooked.
2. Add the barley and stir to get each grain coated with butter. Keep stirring and cooking until you smell toasty goodness.
3. Add water, cover, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and cook for 30 minutes.
4. Check the barley — it might still need a few more minutes. If there’s still liquid in the pan, give it a little more time. If it’s ready, fluff with a fork and serve. Sprinkle with nooch if you like.

Ingredients

• 1 C cornmeal (I use medium-ground, but anything finer that polenta/grits should be fine)
• 1 C all-purpose flour
• 1 T baking powder
• 1 t kosher salt
• about 20 fresh sage leaves, cut into fine ribbons
• 4 T butter
• ¾ C milk

1. Mix the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, salt, and sage together in a bowl.
2. Cut the butter into the dry mixture. Rub together with your fingers until there aren’t any big chunks left.
3. Pour in the milk, and stir with a fork until the dough comes together.
4. Knead the dough for a minute or two.
5. Divide the dough into eight equal pieces. (Alternately, you can roll the dough out and use a biscuit cutter to cut out perfect little biscuits. I think this’ll make for a more biscuit-like texture — maybe? Of course, if you are like me and own neither a rolling pin nor a biscuit cutter, you’re best off just dividing the dough.)
6. Arrange dough pieces in a 9-9½ inch glass pie dish. No need to grease it beforehand.
7. Ultimate gluttony option: dab a wee sliver of butter onto the top of each biscuit.
8. Bake at 450°F for 15-20 minutes, or until they brown just a bit.

I hoped it would turn out well, but I had no idea it would be as great as it is! It’s mind-bogglingly easy too, so I imagine this will become regular freezer fodder around here.

• 2 C heavy cream (go for the good stuff — I use Straus. You can really tell the difference)
• 1 C whole milk
• ¾ C sugar
• 8 whole cardamom pods (buy small amounts in bulk and you won’t believe how cheap it is.)

1. Mix the cream, milk, and sugar until all sugar has dissolved.
2. Open up the cardamom and discard the pods. Grind up the seeds as best as you can with a mortar and pestle. It might take a while, but the smaller the pieces are, the more flavor you’ll get.
3. Mix that shit up! All together now.
4. Pour into a 1.5-quart ice cream maker and let it churn 20-30 minutes, or according to your manufacturer’s instructions.
5. Scoop into another container and freeze for at least an hour or two to harden.
6. Enjoy, and thank the gods that you were bright enough to buy an ice cream machine.

I’ll eat vegetables tomorrow. Tonight, I want to drown in creamy pesto sauce.

• 1 T butter
• 2 shoots green garlic, sliced
• 1 T pesto
• 1 T flour
• 1 C milk
• salt and pepper
• ½ C uncooked couscous

1. Melt butter. Add garlic, cook until soft.
2. Stir in pesto, then flour. Cook for a few minutes. Add milk, salt and pepper to taste, and cook until thickened and boiling.
3. Stir in couscous, cover, and remove from heat.
4. In 7 minutes, remove lid and “fluff” with fork. Rejoice in creamy goodness.

In the best case, the second dish is not only better than the first, it’s also unrecognizably different. Like making a soufflé out of last week’s soup.

I should mention that this soufflé is flatter and less airy than most. If you prefer a traditionally lofty dish, use an additional two egg whites (but not yolks!) and only one cup of soup.

Ho-hum leftover cuisine meets French fanciness. I love it.

Ingredients

• 2½ T butter
• 3 T flour
• 1½ C leftover cream of chard soup (anything nice and creamy will do)
• 4 eggs, seperated
• butter and a wee bit of grated hard cheese, for the dish

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F.
2. Melt the butter, stir in the flour, and cook for a couple minutes, stirring.
3. Stir in the soup, add salt if needed, and bring to a simmer.
4. Remove from heat. Add the egg yolks one by one, stirring each in completely before adding the next.
5. In a large bowl, beat the egg whites to stiff peaks. Do it by hand to Check out how buff you are!
6. Using a rubber spatula, fold about a quarter of the whites into the sauce. Then add the rest of the whites and fold only as much as you have to; leaving it a little streaky now, instead of mixing it into utter submission, will make for a better soufflé in the end.
7. Grease the soufflé dish liberally with butter. Grate a tablespoon or so of cheese into the bottom and tap-tap-tap it around to coat the bottom and sides. Makes for quite a tasty crust.
8. (Carefully) pour the eggy goodness into the dish, and put it in the oven. Lower the heat to 375°F and set the timer for 25 minutes.
9. Resolve not to open the oven until the timer goes off, not even for the tiniest peek. If you have a curious boyfriend or roommate roaming around, stake out the oven door and guard it with your life! (The expansion of air and steam in the tiny bubbles is what makes a soufflé rise; let in too much cold air, and it will fall flat.)
10. When the timer’s done, check out the soufflé. If it’s still quite jiggly, put it back in for another 5 or 10 minutes.
11. Slice, serve, and eat right away! But save some for the next morning — cold soufflé ain’t a bad way to start your day.