Читать книгу Beyond Delicious: The Ghost Whisperer's Cookbook - Mary Ann Winkowski - Страница 11

CAULIFLOWER SOUP

THE LONG NEW ENGLAND WINTERS had given Ann much more than a passing interest in “hand piece” work—linens, scarfs, doilies, anything crocheted. If it involved handiwork, she loved it, not only to make herself but also to buy and collect. (To be honest, it was more so the latter.) She spent her winters poring over her collection and marveling at the ingenuity and craftsmanship that had gone into every piece, running her fingertips over the fine stitchery with reverence. The only thing she wished for was to know more about the seamstresses and embroiderers who had made them.

Some of the linens she’d been given by friends and relatives, and she knew their stories, of course, but more often than not she spent her time rummaging through thrift stores and boxes at church sales, amassing new finds she could go over in more detail once she was snowed in. It was these she always wondered about, and it was a unique find that would finally afford her some insight into the artisan.

A lot of the pieces she found were close to ruin with stains and rips. These she’d carefully nurse back to their former glory with gentle hand washings and by applying her own talents for repairs. Even so, sometimes she found pieces that couldn’t be saved. Sometimes they practically disintegrated the moment they touched the soapy water, and sometimes the fabric was so worn that there was nothing left to use to hold the rips together.

That was the case with the box of flour-sack dishtowels she’d found at a farmhouse estate sale. It was a set of eight and she took them all, but she wasn’t sure any of them would survive. The fabric hadn’t been designed for longevity, and then the towels had been stuffed in a box for who knew how long. But they were beautifully embroidered with vegetables—green peppers, carrots, onions—and a relevant message or thought regarding each one, such as “Don’t cry” for the onions. Only four of them were in good enough shape to be salvaged. Fortunately, one of the four she saved was also the most distinctive. The picture was of cauliflower, but instead of a short message, this one contained a recipe for cauliflower soup.

The cauliflower-soup towel was also the reason the woman who had made them had not crossed over after she died. Apparently she had stitched the recipe incorrectly, and she was more concerned about the soup coming our right than she was about crossing over!

“It’s two to three egg yolks, not two to three whole eggs,” she explained to me after sharing some of her handiwork secrets and inspirations with Ann.

“Eggs in soup?” I checked. I had imagined the mistake had been the eggs in the first place.

“Oh yes, “she replied proudly. “You’d not believe the difference they make.”

Cauliflower Soup

1 medium cauliflower

6 cups chicken stock

1 tablespoon flour

1 tablespoon butter

2–3 egg yolks

½ cup cream

Salt and pepper to taste

6 fresh mushrooms (optional), cut into strips and sautéed in butter

Cook cauliflower in salted boiling water until tender, about 20 minutes. Reserve 6–8 flowerets. Mash the rest, combine with hot stock, and thicken with flour and butter stirred to a paste and diluted until smooth. Let simmer another few minutes. In the meantime, beat the egg yolks with cream. Add a little of the egg mixture to the cauliflower at a time, stirring constantly to avoid curdling. Season to taste. Add the whole flowerets and mushrooms (if desired), and serve with croutons.