Creamy mushroom soup
This creamy mushroom soup is a far cry from the gloopy, gray stuff that comes in a can, but is almost as easy to make.
Two mushroom recipes so close together, huh? Yes! But hear me out. This recipe is so unctuous, so creamy, so warming, and so filling, that I couldn’t hold onto it any longer.
What makes this better than the canned version? Well, the color, first of all. The golden sautéed mushrooms, the purple shallots, and the red paprika lend this soup a much richer and nicer color than the gray stuff (it’s not delicious).
A note about adding dairy to hot soup: It’s possible to split the cream if you add cold dairy to other hot liquids. Split dairy basically looks like you’ve added thousands of little dots of cream rather than the soup looking uniformly creamy. Does that makes sense? It’s totally fine to eat and will taste good, but it sometimes doesn’t look as appetizing.
To avoid this, you can either heat up the dairy or cool down the base soup. The fattier the dairy, the less likely it is to split, so if you’re using heavy cream as I recommend for this recipe, let the cream sit at room temperature while making the rest of the soup. If it still feels chilly when you’re ready to add it, microwave it for 30 seconds before adding. If using a lighter milk or non-dairy milk, I would actually heat it to just simmering in a separate pan on the stove or significantly cool the base soup before adding it.
The texture is also completely different to the canned version. Theoretically, you could throw the mushrooms into a food processor and whizz for a few seconds to quickly chop the whole lot, but I like to cut them myself to get a range of sizes and shapes. I halve the really small shrooms, quarter the medium sized ones, and chop up the large ones. Remove the stems or don’t- that’s entirely up to you.
A note about how I tell if my mushrooms are cooked enough: I cook the mushrooms until they release some water and then that water evaporates. They will have cooked down significantly.
Creamy mushroom soup
½ cup heavy cream
24 oz mushrooms, cut into various sizes
1 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp olive oil, divided
Heaping ½ tsp dried thyme
½ tsp paprika
2 tsp kosher salt
3 large garlic cloves, minced
2-3 large shallots, minced
½ cup white wine
4 cups stock (chicken, beef, or vegetable)
Time: about 45 minutes
Yield: 5-6 cups of soup
Measure out the heayy cream and let sit at room temperature while you make the rest of the soup. See note above about using other types of dairy in this soup.
Chop the mushrooms in varying sizes (see note above).
In a large pan, melt 1 Tbsp of butter and 1 Tbsp of olive oil over a medium flame. Once the pan is heated, add the mushrooms and cook over a medium flame, until the mushrooms have released their liquid and that liquid has evaporated, about 8-10 minutes.
Prep the rest of the ingredients while the mushrooms cook.
Once the mushrooms are relatively dry, add the thyme, paprika, salt, garlic, and shallots. Cook until the garlic and onions are fragrant and translucent, about 3 minutes. If the mixture seems very dry, add another Tbsp of olive oil.
Add the wine and stir, while scraping the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Cook for another 2-3 minutes.
Add the stock and increase the flame to medium high. Bring to a boil. Lower the flame all the way and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes.
Add the cream and stir.
Maitake mushroom salad
This warm, simple salad is so special thanks to the maitake mushrooms and the variety of textures and flavors. Made from expensive ingredients, this salad is meant for special occasions (or just the occasion of treating yourself), but I promise it’s worth it!
This salad is based on my best memories from a tiny little restaurant in Brooklyn called Little Dishes that I used to frequent with my husband before it tragically closed. I remember running to this place in the thick snow when someone was having a craving for their Mac and cheese. Their food was so simple, but so thoughtfully prepared that the dishes ended up being much greater than the sum of their humble parts.
Maitake mushrooms, sometimes called Hen of the Woods, are my absolute favorite variety. They’re meaty and slightly herby with a wee bit of forest floor funk. I state from the outset that this is an expensive salad because maitakes definitely don’t come cheap and I wouldn’t substitute any other mushroom variety here. I mean, you CAN, but your salad with end up fine, instead of ethereal.
The original recipe used a local cheese that was somewhere between parmesan and gruyere. Use either in this recipe or any other favorite cheese that falls in the nutty, slightly dry realm.
A couple of notes:
Cooking the mushrooms: I like to leave the mushrooms in slightly large pieces. It will feel awkward to cook them at first because they’re pretty stiff until they heat up somewhat. Once you sear them on one side, the mushrooms will get much floppier and easier to cook.
Cooking the radicchio: I seared half of the bitter lettuce and left the other half raw for a bit of textural difference, but you don’t strictly need to do this step. I left the lettuce in pretty large pieces for the photos, but definitely slice them much thinner for the real salad.
Maitake mushroom salad
2-3 large maitake mushrooms, each cut into about 4 large pieces
1 small head of radicchio, sliced into very thin wedges
1 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp olive oil
4-5 cups arugula (1 small bag of pre-washed lettuce is perfect)
Shallot vinaigrette (recipe below), to taste
Parmesan or gruyere cheese, to taste
Shallot vinaigrette
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp sherry or red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp minced shallot
1/2 tsp dijon mustard
1 tsp mayonnaise
1 large pinch of salt
Heat the butter in a large skillet over a medium high flame. When the butter has begun to bubble and brown slightly, add the mushrooms and cook, turning every 1-2 minutes, until well browned on all sides and very floppy, about 6-8 minutes. Remove the mushrooms to a plate and sprinkle with salt.
Add the olive oil to the pan and heat until very hot, but not smoking. Sear half of the radicchio on one side and then flip to the other side and sear again. If the pan is hot enough, this should take about 5-6 minutes. Turn off the heat and sprinkle with salt.
Add the mushrooms back to the pan with the radicchio to warm back up, but don’t turn the flame back on.
Add the arugula and the raw radicchio to a large plate or bowl. Add half of the dressing and toss well. Sprinkle with sea salt.
Top with the warm mushrooms and radicchio. Pour on more dressing to taste.
Add large flakes of the nutty, salty cheese on top to taste. Serve immediately.
Pumpkin and persimmon butter
Cooking down some canned pumpkin and a few persimmons with maple syrup and spices will make your house instantly smell like the holidays and spice up even the most basic meals.
I’m a sucker for persimmons. I can’t help myself when they arrive in the grocery stores. But I never know what to do with them. I love baking with them, but I’m trying to have fewer baked goodies hanging around in preparation for baked-goodies-hanging-around season. And if I’m going to eat them on their own or in a salad, they need to ripen, which, in my frozen kitchen, takes forever and a day.
This is my grand compromise: A cooked down “butter” that’s thick and slightly sweet that pairs with toast, graham crackers, apple slices, pretzels, Dutch babies, regular babies, cornbread, muffins, oatmeal. etc. One could also use this “butter” as a fruity addition to an autumnal cheesecake or mix it with an ice cream or other custard. My favorite way to use it is mixed with mascarpone and a couple of eggs and then baked with a pie shell for a spin on pumpkin pie.
The best part about this concoction is that you don’t need to ripen the persimmons. You heard me. As long as you use fuyu and NOT HACHIYA*, you’re fine with unripened persimmons. Of course, the more you let them ripen, the better they taste, so it does behoove you to wait at least a little while before making this butter.
*Why not Hachiya, you ask? Well, those are the larger, more ovular persimmons and if you don’t wait until they’re almost completely mushy to eat them, the tannins in the fruit make your mouth feel gluey and dry. It’s awful, trust me.
Anyway, whatever you choose to do with it, you’re only 20-30 minutes away from the endless possibilities, so get to it!
Pumpkin persimmon butter
Time: 25 minutes, mostly active
Yield: 2 cups, depending on how much you cook down the mixture
1 can pumpkin puree
4 fuyu persimmons
1 Tbsp dark brown sugar (light is also fine)
¼ cup maple syrup
½ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp ground ginger
1/8th tsp ground cloves
1 tsp vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste
1 large pinch of kosher salt
½ cup water
Peel the persimmons and cut into quarters.
Add all ingredients to a blender or food processor and blend until smooth. Transfer to a large pot.
Heat over a medium-low flame until just beginning to bubble. Turn the heat down to low and cook, stirring frequently to prevent burning, until the persimmons totally break down and the mixture has thickened slightly, about 20 minutes.