Hungarian Mushroom Soup

Soup of the evening! Beautiful soup!

I’m cold, chilled to the bone. It may be spring, but the days have been overcast, nights are chilly, and heat is a thing of the past until sometime next fall, or a possibly an unwanted guest appearance in August. Our windows, hung sometime in 1930, are drafty and our allergies are in full swing. Even the greenmarket holds little hope, with few growers in attendance, and actual green produce still somewhat sparse and undersized. The season of soup is not yet at an end.

For the moment, at least, soup is the solution to all my woes. Hot soup is always warming, usually soothing, and frequently filling. It can dress up for the most fancy of occasions or provide a hearty meal-in-a-bowl after the longest of days. What I really crave, besides sunshine, is the food of my ancestors: Hungarian Mushroom Soup.

In case you ever wondered (and who hasn’t?) the Hungarian language is more closely related to Finnish than any other. Fortunately, the cuisine of that nation is related to other central European countries, with a few differences in technique and ingredients. Onions play a leading role in Hungarian cooking, and paprika, the dried, ground fruit of capsicum annum (peppers) is ubiquitous. The spice originally made its way to Hungary in the late 16^th century and it’s been a primary seasoning ever since. It comes in sweet and hot varieties and there’s a smoked Spanish variety as well. Some may think that an onion is an onion and interchangeable, although they’d be wrong, but all would agree that the quality of spices varies, and paprika is no exception; it pays to buy the best you can find.

Mushroom soup requires mushrooms. Fortunately, there are tens of thousands of varieties worldwide, thousands that are edible, 70+ varieties traditionally found in the forests of Hungary and several dozen commercially cultivated in this country. What they all have in common is umami, known as the savory flavor, and one of the five basic tastes (along with sweet, salty, bitter and sour) that humans can detect. Umami is also found in steak tomatoes and many other foods, and in all cases, the flavor is enhanced with salt; for those who are health conscious, just a tiny bit will do it. I suspect that my great-grandparents would have used mushrooms I have little access to, like trumpet, hedgehog and bluefoot varieties, but the button, cremini and shitake commonly available in the United States country make a tasty and flavorful soup.

This is a perfect dinner with a loaf of crusty bread, a glass of red wine, and if you like, a green salad.

Hungarian Mushroom Soup

Serves 4-5 for dinner, 8 for a first course, and halve amounts if you’re enjoying a romantic dinner for 2.

The Ingredients:

¼ Cup olive oil, unsalted butter, or a combination

1 large onion, chopped

2 Tablespoons sweet paprika

2 Tablespoons hot paprika (or you can use cayenne)

¼ Cup flour

6 Cups vegetable stock, preferably homemade

2 pounds fresh mushrooms, any kind you like, thickly sliced

1+ teaspoons salt, to taste

Fresh ground pepper, to taste

¼ Cup fresh dill

2 Cups sour cream, room temperature

The Method:

• Melt butter/heat oil over medium heat. Use a large pot, preferably one with a heavy bottom.
• Add the onion and sauté until it become translucent,  about 5 minutes.
• Stir in both paprikas. Stir in flour. Continue stirring to form a paste and cook over a low heat, stirring constantly until the mixture begins to bubble, another 5 minutes, more or less.
• Whisk in vegetable stock, a little at a time, and whisk until smooth.
• Add the mushrooms, salt and pepper and bring to a boil.
• Reduce heat and simmer, stirring frequently, until the mixture thickens and the mushrooms are tender, about 20 minutes.
• At this point, if you want a smoother and thicker consistency, puree half or all in a blender or food processor, or use an immersion blender until you get the consistency you want.
• Add in the dill and stir in sour cream, a half cup or less at a time.
• Garnish with dill, and it’s time for dinner.

Two things to remember:

Use more or less stock. Use whatever mushrooms you like, but the proportion of fat, flour and paprika should not vary.

If you have porcini mushrooms, soak a handful in hot water until tender and chop them up and add to the mushroom mixture. Strain the porcini liquid and use in place of some of the stock.

And here is a happy person enjoying this soup:

Roasted Potatoes, while you're waiting for spring greens

I adjust slowly to change. Daylight savings time sends me into a tizzy, accompanied by weeks of complaining. I’ll turn down almost any social invitation before rescheduling our weekly “date night,” and dreary winter weather is not enough to break me of my Monday trips to the greenmarket.  In all honestly, it’s been more like the beige market these past few months, with very few vendors, and those mostly selling a vast array of potatoes and mushrooms, some organic brown eggs and a few bakers in attendance offering particularly hardy and dense breads. I’m no true locavore and very grateful to live in a time and place where it’s possible to get fruits and green leafy vegetables all winter long, and citrus, sugar and coffee ever; no scurvy or sleepy mornings for me.  But still, I have a fierce hunger for fresh, local produce.

For an omnivorous foodie, I have a few dislikes that are peculiar mostly because they tend to be “easy” foods that everyone else likes. Cheesecake and pancakes follow right behind Marmite, which tops my list and truthfully, is really only loved by Brits. Potatoes come right behind, complicating my pre-spring choices. 

Where I’m from, Long Island, potatoes are the defining local food. Much of the area had been farmland, and many still exist; for nearly a decade, I spent summers and weekends on the eastern edges of Long Island, on a road that still had two potato farms. The sight of rows of mounds sprouting new green leaves still fills me with joy. Not liking potatoes in that part of the world is a bit like disparaging mom’s apple pie. I’m sorry about it, but I just don’t love starchy foods.

Potatoes come in a vast array of colors, sizes and starchiness, but they are all nutritious, cheap and easy to grow, which accounts for their worldwide popularity. A Long Island potato is nothing like a russet (or Idaho) potato, the latter being ideal for baking, with a thick skin and a starchy, mealy interior. By contrast, the potatoes of my homeland are small, round, thin skinned and delicious boiled and sautéed with some butter and dill. They are not “keepers,” but best soon after they’ve been dug up.

For months, I resisted the winter potatoes, but two weeks ago, I finally succumbed when I spotted fresh fingerlings. There’s nothing better for roasting than the small, waxy tubers, and most varieties develop a sweet, even nutty flavor during a long cooking time. I bought a pound, along with leeks the size of cricket bats and a loaf of bread as dense as a neutron star.  After a quick stop at a conventional grocery store, I also had a head of garlic and some organic baby spinach. Then I went home to cook.

Keep in mind that this is more a set of instructions than a recipe; the potential variants are limited only by your own preferences and imagination. These are so good that you’ll want to make them again and again; they made a convert of me; the leeks caramelize, the garlic mellows and the potatoes sweeten . Don’t wait too long to try these, since ramps, those fleeting harbingers of spring, will be available in a couple of weeks and you’ll forget all about potatoes, if briefly; these were good enough to leave me wanting more.

Roasted Fingerling Potatoes

Serves 4-5 as a side dish, 2 as a main dish.

Easy, but ~45 minutes in the oven, another 15 minutes prep time.

The Ingredients

~ 1 lb, maybe a bit more, of fingerling potatoes, halved lengthwise

2-3 large leeks, white and pale green parts only, chopped and thoroughly washed

1 head of garlic, minced, or less if you don’t like garlic

Salt and pepper or the herbs of your choice or herbes de Provence, which is what I used, and is readily available in many spice sections.

Olive oil, 3 Tablespoons or more, as needed

The Method:

• Preheat oven to 400 degrees. The temperature can be adjusted if you have something else in the oven.
• Heat 2-3 Table olive oil in a cast iron skillet (preferred) or in an oven- proof casserole.
• Briefly sauté leeks until just limp.
• Add potatoes, garlic and toss.
• Toss in whatever seasoning mixture you want to use.
• Place the skillet or casserole in the oven.
• Roast for 45 minutes, tossing the mixture every 10-15 minutes and adding a little more oil if needed.
• The potatoes are done when they’re fork-tender.

Remove from the oven and serve. We ate these with bread and sautéed baby spinach.

Yum!