Soup

 

Po Boy Views’

By

Phil LaMancusa

Cup

or

Bowl

“And if you aint had a bath aint nobody who cares; ‘cause they’ve seen it all before, from the bums to the whores, and if you shout halleluiah they’ll give you some more.” Johnny Cash: Praise the Lord and Pass the Soup

        I‘m not sure that I know anybody who wouldn’t be comforted by a good bowl of soup; hot soup on a cold day; cold soup on a hot day; any good soup on a bad day. In fact, the first man to open a ‘eat-stop’ in France specialized in soup (Paris 1765 M. Boulanger); he claimed that his soup was a restorative and places like his came to be called re-staur-ants.

        Cruising super markets for prepared soups can be a real rabbit hole and you can get lost with choices that you didn’t know existed. My advice? Don’t buy convenience soups because they’re slop and mass produced in packaging that is dubious at best (check out the sodium levels).

        Now, I cannot give you all the details of addresses and hours of operations, phone numbers etc.; so, take this as a quick ‘soup crawl’ around New Orleans and my mind.

        Norma’s has a Caldo de Res that is absolutely incredible; El Sabor 5 estrellas N2 has a Posole that will knock your socks off; the Harissa coconut soup at 1,000 Figs is a gotta have. Café Degas has been making their onion soup in the same pot for thirty years and it’s reputed the best in the city. Lentil soup at Fatma’s and/or Mona’s traditionally requested. Tofu pho at Eat Well; Egg Drop soup at Golden Wall, Yaka Mein at the Orange House or from Ms. Linda Green.

Soups are also memory stimulants: the Turtle Soup at Commander’s when Paul Pruhomme was Chef; The Wonton Soup at that little joint on 23^rd Street; Cioppino at Little Joe’s in San Francisco as well as the Congee from Sam Wo’s.

Soba noodle soup at Mifune; Boston Clam Chowder at John’s Lobster House at Rockaway Beach in N.Y. and from my childhood a soup that I will forever recall: Zuppa Povera… beef bones, canned tomatoes, soup veggies, shell macaroni and parmesan cheese; comfort on the cheap.

Now, you query, what about Gumbo? The waitress (they were called ‘waitresses’ back then) at the Gumbo Shop (Debbie) explained that gumbos were like snowflakes; they were all different depending on who made them and where they were made. I find the best ones at corner stores with quick lunch take out; here’s why: at big time restaurants and eating places, especially tourist places, they’ll make a mighty fine gumbo in a twenty-gallon pot; you’ll be a customer there once, or maybe even twice a year? Once a month if they’re lucky. At neighborhood corner markets they want you back once or twice a week, if not more; so, their gumbo is geared toward the everyman’s taste and budget and is constantly being made in smaller batches more often.

The gumbo that I have at the Brown Derby (sausage, shrimp, chicken, crab) I cannot say is the best I’ve ever had, but I’ve had none better if that makes any sense (spoiler alert: if you find a chicken neck or gizzard in your gumbo, you’ve landed in the right place). Liuzza’s by the Track puts fresh cooked shrimp on top of theirs (made by that man called Roadrunner) and you can get potato salad with it… which is brilliant.  The Quail, Pheasant and Andouille gumbo at the Jazz Fest is beyond comprehension; the dark roux at the now closed Avery’s was simply black gold and on and on. Is gumbo a soup? I’d like to think it is. Fight me.

Avgolemono; have you had it with some taramosalata and egg bread? A nice bowl of chicken soup with Kneidlach followed by some (hand cut) livers and challah; Tom Yum Goong that brings a sweat; Ukrainian (or any other) Borsht will zone you out and some Brazilian Moqueca with pao de Queijo or Canja from Cape Verde will wake your mouth up, brotha!

To explore new soups head to Nigeria for Banga; Ogbone; Efo Riro; Afang; Egusi or Edikaikong typically served with Fufu; ask around, there are a few West African places that would be glad that you would want something real from their home region. However, yes, however; you don’t have to go out to have a grand bisque; chowder; consommé; potage; gumbo or pot au feu; as Bill Haley said (or sung) “get out in that kitchen and rattle those pots and pans…” You can (dare I say it?) make your own.

Ask your Mama (or Maw Maw); peruse a book; check with Chef Google or just use the magnificent imagination that you have: simple… a visit to a market to pick out what looks good to you, a knife and a cutting board, a pot and some water and maybe a glass of wine with some music and there you go. When in doubt, punch into your computer “Recipe: and then name your ingredients and that darn thing will tell you how and what to do with what you got. Get it? Got it? Good.

Cool weather? Make a warm soup. Hot weather (what here?). Make a cold soup: Gazpacho, Vichyssoise, cucumber yogurt; heck, make a fruit soup like Rote Grutze (look it up) or Chlodnik.

Soup is a magic amalgamation over 20,000 years in the making; you are the alchemist, wizard, sorceress, conductor and orchestrator of that enchantment--- right there in your kitchen. With this power and responsibility, you are given the authority to bonk somebody on the nose with your ladle who would dare challenge that. Don’t forget to wash your hands.