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5 days ago
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The year will start with soup. Soup has been the first meal of the year for as long as I can remember, eaten for lunch or maybe later in the day. Something hot in a deep bowl, to revive and restore.
This year, a soup of beans or lentils for good luck, with chillies for warmth, and turmeric or coconut milk to soothe. Nothing too taxing to make, save a few cardamom pods to crack and their seeds to grind; onions to slice and soften with coriander seeds and cumin and perhaps cabbage – or chard – leaves to shred.
The warm sweetness of the coconut milk will be welcome if you plan to toast the new year and stay up late. And a generous squirt of lime juice will bring the whole thing to life. There may be bread to dunk – I often make a loaf on the first day of the year. If not, I will bring a crust back to life in the toaster.
There are still quinces about if you are lucky enough to live near a Turkish grocery or a farmer’s market. If not, a comely Comice pear can be cooked in a similar fashion and will take a quarter of the time. For the new year I will poach the fruit in a syrup with stars of anise and a vanilla pod and offer them warm rather than chilled, when the fruit will be at its most fragrant. No cream this time, but perhaps some yoghurt to flow over the flushed pink cheeks of the quinces or pears in their glass dishes.
New Year’s Day is always plump with hope. It never feels like a new start (it isn’t); more like another chance to do everything I planned this time last year and have failed to get done. Although it has been a busy year, a full 12 months I have spent chasing my tail, somehow there is still a to-do list as long as my arm.
The start of the year always brings, if not resolutions, a promise to get things done. Among those, is the simple wish to continue doing what I love.
Bean, cabbage and coconut-milk soup
Deep, sweet heat. A soup that soothes and invigorates simultaneously. The greens – cabbage, kale or cavolo nero – aren’t essential, but introduce a welcome verdant element. Substantial enough to be served as standalone dish, you could use whatever pulses you have in the cupboard – haricot, black-eyed peas or butter beans. Serves 6. Ready in 1 hour
onions 2, medium
groundnut oil 2 tbsp
garlic 3 cloves
green cardamom pods 6
coriander seeds 2 tsp
yellow mustard seeds 2 tsp
cumin seeds 1 tsp
ground turmeric 2 tsp
chillies 2 small, hot
chopped plum tomatoes 2 x 400g tins
sugar a pinch
haricot or cannellini beans 2 x 400g tins
coconut milk 250ml
coriander fresh, a large handful
lime 1
kale, cabbage or cavolo nero leaves 4 small handfuls
Peel the onions, cut them in half and slice thinly. Warm the groundnut oil in a deep, capacious pot over a moderate heat, then stir in the onions and let them soften, with the occasional stir, for 10-15 minutes. Peel and thinly slice the garlic and add to the onions.
Crack open the cardamom pods and extract the seeds. Crush them coarsely using a pestle and mortar or heavy rolling pin, then stir into the softening onions and garlic. Crush the coriander seeds, then the mustard, and add them to the onions with the whole cumin seeds, ground turmeric, a generous seasoning of salt and black pepper. Cook, stirring regularly, for at least 5 minutes, so that the spices toast in the heat.
Meanwhile, seed and finely chop the chillies and add to the pan, along with the chopped tomatoes, the pinch of sugar, and 400ml of water. Open and drain the beans, then add them to the pot, leaving them to simmer over a moderate heat for 35-40 minutes. Bring a shallow pan of water to the boil for the greens.
Mix the coconut milk into the sauce, simmer for a further 5 minutes, then chop and stir in the coriander. Finely shred the greens, dip them briefly into the boiling water, then drain and stir them into the soup. Ladle into deep bowls and squeeze over a little lime juice to finish.
Poached quinces
You can’t hurry a quince. Rock hard when raw, this perfumed fruit will take its time to soften. (Of course, if you use pears instead, they will need much less time.) Cook them over a low heat, the syrup barely bubbling, until their flesh has turned rose-gold and soft enough to cut with a spoon. You don’t need cream here, though if you are partial to the idea it would be a fine accompaniment, or – even better – thick yoghurt. Serves 3. Ready in 1-2 hours
golden caster sugar 175g
quinces 3
lemon 1
vanilla pod 1
star anise 2
orange 1
Put the sugar into a stainless-steel or enamelled pan with 1.25 litres of water and bring to the boil.
Peel the quinces, cut them in half and use a teaspoon to remove their core. Cut the lemon in half and, as you peel each piece of fruit, rub the cut side of the lemon over the peeled flesh to stop the fruit discolouring.
Drop the vanilla pod and star anise into the syrup and turn the heat down to a simmer. Lower the fruit into the syrup and let it cook, barely bubbling, for about 40 minutes, testing it every now and again for tenderness. In some cases your quinces may take longer to cook – I have known some take an hour or more.
Gently lift the fruit from its syrup and place on a serving dish. Turn the heat up under the syrup.
Halve the orange and squeeze the juice into the syrup. Let it boil, watching it very carefully, until the syrup has started to thicken to a pouring consistency, similar to that of runny honey.
Spoon the hot, golden syrup over the quinces, and serve while still warm.
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