Do us a fava
May. 10th, 2012 11:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceA couple of nights ago, Karen wanted chicken salad for supper; so I roasted a few legs, and there was chicken left over, plus a lot of bones and so forth.
So handily, yesterday, I was already making stock when she texted a request for soup. I kind of like taking requests, I find; it stretches me. And I was halfway there already.
So I went to the fridge, thinking "soup, okay; chicken and...?" - and found the pods of broad or fava beans that I'd brought home from the farmers' market on Saturday. Okay, cool. Chicken and broad bean soup; and if I podded and peeled the beans, we could have their vivid green kernels floating like nuggets of emerald among the shreds of chicken, om nom nom.
But I didn't want a broth, so how to thicken the soup? I was looking around, pondering carrots or lentils or potatoes or or or - and I thought oh, wait...
There I was, peeling away, accumulating a pile of broad-bean skins. Tossing the occasional one to Mac, but mostly meaning them for the compost. And yet, I'm English, we grew up eating the whole bean, grey and leathery tho' it might be; I knew there was no harm in these things and a degree of flavour, so...
So yeah. I fried off half an onion and a carrot and a celery stick, tossed those in the stock with the bean-skins and cooked it all down, then blitzed it to a smooth thick creamy soup. In went the chicken and the bean-kernels, and om nom nom indeed.
(And there's still some chicken left, so tonight I'm going to make some kind of open pie or tart or quiche, with a cheese crust and a filling of chicken and mushroom and broccolini and bacon in an egg/cream savoury custard. I'll let you know.)
In other news, I know I'm slow, but I only just noticed that the distinctive US Postal Service delivery-vans have the steering wheel on the wrong side, the right side, the right side, the UK side*. Presumably this is so they can cruise the kerbs and read the house numbers better, or something like that?
*Delete where applicable
So handily, yesterday, I was already making stock when she texted a request for soup. I kind of like taking requests, I find; it stretches me. And I was halfway there already.
So I went to the fridge, thinking "soup, okay; chicken and...?" - and found the pods of broad or fava beans that I'd brought home from the farmers' market on Saturday. Okay, cool. Chicken and broad bean soup; and if I podded and peeled the beans, we could have their vivid green kernels floating like nuggets of emerald among the shreds of chicken, om nom nom.
But I didn't want a broth, so how to thicken the soup? I was looking around, pondering carrots or lentils or potatoes or or or - and I thought oh, wait...
There I was, peeling away, accumulating a pile of broad-bean skins. Tossing the occasional one to Mac, but mostly meaning them for the compost. And yet, I'm English, we grew up eating the whole bean, grey and leathery tho' it might be; I knew there was no harm in these things and a degree of flavour, so...
So yeah. I fried off half an onion and a carrot and a celery stick, tossed those in the stock with the bean-skins and cooked it all down, then blitzed it to a smooth thick creamy soup. In went the chicken and the bean-kernels, and om nom nom indeed.
(And there's still some chicken left, so tonight I'm going to make some kind of open pie or tart or quiche, with a cheese crust and a filling of chicken and mushroom and broccolini and bacon in an egg/cream savoury custard. I'll let you know.)
In other news, I know I'm slow, but I only just noticed that the distinctive US Postal Service delivery-vans have the steering wheel on the wrong side, the right side, the right side, the UK side*. Presumably this is so they can cruise the kerbs and read the house numbers better, or something like that?
*Delete where applicable
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-10 08:42 pm (UTC)It's so they can just lean out and put things into kerb-side mail boxes, rather than having to actually walk up to the house.