Truth in labeling

   In every large family, kids tend to get labeled – the pretty one, the athletic one, the good kid, the troublemaker. In our family, my older sister is “the hard worker.”

   She likes big, complicated tasks and keeping very busy. She has enough energy for six or seven people and she doesn’t like to sit still, so she can be rather exhausting company at times.

   Being related to her has its benefits, though.

   When I lived in my first apartment, my roommates always urged me to invite her to dinner. She was their idea of a perfect dinner guest.

   It wasn’t her company that they craved. It was her elbow grease.

   Naturally, she would set the table, and of course she jumped up to wash the dishes after we ate. But that was nothing. Once she was on a roll, you could steer her in any direction.

   Inviting her for dinner was how we got the oven cleaned.

   She hasn’t changed much over time. If anything, her energy has grown. For years she channeled it into a high-powered job managing huge projects for an international consulting firm. But recently her company gave her an offer she couldn’t refuse (the good kind, with lots of zeroes). So she and her husband retired early and moved to Florida.

   Last year, with her new-found leisure, she laid claim to Thanksgiving.

   “Come early and have a little vacation,” she said. “You can help me cook.”

   Now, unlike my sister, I know how to relax. I arrived toward the beginning of the week with my bathing suit, a trashy novel and a plan. I was going to laze by the pool for several days, then rouse myself on Wednesday or Thursday to help stuff the turkey and perhaps bake a pumpkin pie.

   I was a bit taken aback when she greeted me with a 2-inch thick notebook, and a flow chart.

   Apparently, a modest family Thanksgiving wasn’t sufficiently challenging for her ambitions. She was running a vast B&B operation that week, with friends, neighbors, relatives and in-laws shuttling in and out every day, filling every bedroom in her large house and overflowing to a neighboring hotel.

   Not only that, but she had planned major dinners for a dozen or more folks every night. Thanksgiving was the smallest of them.

   The first five pages of the notebook was a detailed Excel spreadsheet, containing the shopping list. It was organized by day of the week, store, and aisle, cross-referenced to each recipe. The refrigerator wasn’t large enough to hold everything – we were going shopping every day.

   The rest of the notebook consisted of printouts of all the recipes for each dish on every menu. She had clearly picked them for maximum challenge and inefficiency. There were six different pies – each made with a slightly different crust. Nothing could be done very far ahead of time, and nothing made use of leftovers from the day before.

   And she cooks from recipes like I do – which is to say, she is incapable of following one. I opened up to the page with Tuesday night’s dinner – a bouillabaisse. Except, she casually noted, she wasn’t planning to use fish, she had some chicken, and possibly some shrimp. Could I adapt it please?

   Actually, I don’t think she remembered to say please.

   Perhaps I should mention that her other label is “born in charge.”

I looked around for the rest of the kitchen troops, but none appeared. I was an army of one.

   I stowed my bathing suit back in the suitcase with resignation. She’s been bossing me around my whole life – I’ve learned that resistance is futile. Besides, my brother-in-law (in cahoots?) hadn’t heated up the pool or hot tub.

   It turned out to be fun, in a masochistic sort of way. And to give her credit, my sister worked even longer and harder than I did. The meals were delicious. I looked forward to visiting her “B&B” again this year.

   But you can’t sucker me twice: My family label is “the smart one.” This year I booked a red-eye that got me there on Thursday morning with just enough time for a nap before a wonderful, complicated and effortless (for me) dinner.

   I hope your holiday was as delightful as mine.

 

*****

 

   The combination of eating my own weight in turkey and stuffing my off-season body into a bathing suit the next day always results in an instant dieting resolution. But what do I do back home, where cold, rainy November days demand comfort food? My solution is this delicious, satisfying – and yet very low calorie – mushroom soup. It bears no resemblance to the Campbell’s classic, so enjoy it by itself, not dumped on top of a bowl of overcooked green beans and sprinkled with canned fried onions.

 

Creamless Cream of Mushroom Soup

 

1-2 tsp. butter or olive oil

1 shallot, chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped

8 oz. fresh mushrooms (white, brown or shitake or a combination), sliced

1 small potato (or 1/2 a medium-sized one), peeled and cut into 1” pieces

1 Tbsp. dried porcini powder*

2 cups high quality chicken stock or broth

1 pinch dried or fresh thyme

salt and pepper to taste

 

   In a saucepan over medium heat, warm the butter or oil and add the shallots and garlic, cooking until the shallots are translucent (do not brown). Add the fresh mushrooms and cook until they soften and give off their moisture (about 5 minutes). Stir in the porcini powder and cook for 1 minute more. In the meantime, warm the chicken stock in the microwave. Add the warm stock to the mushrooms, along with the potato, thyme, salt and pepper. (If using canned chicken broth, you may not need salt). Bring the liquid to a boil, and simmer until the potato is cooked, about 10 minutes.

   Transfer the soup to a blender and puree. Think about how much better it would be if you stirred in a little heavy cream about now, then stiffen your resolve and serve it as is.

Serves 2.

 

*The ground porcini powder is my secret ingredient here. Dried porcini mushrooms are expensive, but a little goes a long way as they are strongly flavored. I grind a small handful of dried mushrooms (around 5-6 pieces) in the coffee grinder to make the powder.

If you use your grinder for coffee and are concerned about cleaning it, here’s a tip. Throw in some kosher salt and grind it, then pour it out and wipe the grinder with a damp paper towel. It’s remarkably effective, and a very simple way to keep the grinder clean so it can do double duty for coffee and spices