I'll stop short of calling them failures, but I feel compelled to hold my hands up to a few kitchen-situated misfires recently. With a mind geared towards the relatively scant levels of flour (of all kinds) currently available in supermarkets, I did have the idea to try and produce a recipe for a flourless brownie; what better to sail us through this situation of scarcity? I took ground almonds as my structure, added espresso, dark brown sugar, browned butter, 85% cocoa chocolate and some other, more procedural, ingredients; what resulted was a devastatingly successful chocolate soil. Great with ice cream, not so good if a brownie is the anticipated result.
Another day, I found myself in the vegetable department of the supermarket not really knowing what to cook for dinner that night; I know, that's terrible etiquette in the world of Covid-19. I ended up with a handful of courgettes and no defined ideas regarding what to do with them. Naturally, my mind drifted on to braising; a long oven braise which in a bright tomato sauce, which would give the vegetables a chance to break down and intermingle. I'm certain that I must have just selected three courgettes of an incredibly rebellious temperament, but there is a smidgen of a chance that I could have mistaken how they would behave during their time in the oven. The very slightest of chances. Their juices wept into the sauce and they kept their bite. I also prepared some gnocchi from frozen, which remained less-than-structurally intact upon cooking.
The strange thing about cooking, especially when you are cooking for more than just yourself, is the gulf between your own opinions of a dish and how others perceive it. There was nothing explicitly disastrous about the intransigent vegetables, the slightly melted gnocchi and the Earthen chocolate; in fact, housemates-of-the-blog Owen and Rebecca both enjoyed all of it. It's hard to explain why you might be disappointed in something you've made that isn't objectively bad, or even pretty palatable, but expectation is quite a powerful weight on the mind. It becomes difficult to explain your own frustration in a way that doesn't come across as being petulant. I definitely wouldn't want to share a recipe on the blog that I didn't feel personally satisfied with as well.
Spoiler alert: I broke this slump (which, I hope was implied in the fact that this post exists at all). A couple of the days back, Owen made a soup that was so intrinsically comforting that I transcended my large cutlery prejudices and slumped fully back into the armchair with a soup spoon equipped. Oh, what are my prejudices? This will be controversial to admit, but I tend to gravitate towards teaspoons, cake forks and chopsticks when eating meals, perhaps with some kind of atavistic compulsion towards making a meal last longer. I know, I try not to shy away from highly-charged, contentious issues. Anyway, uh, should we talk about the soup?
He presented me with a very simple bowl of mung beans and yellow split peas in a horseradish-scented stock, stirred through with lightly cooked savoy cabbage. This was served with flatbreads too, because every soup strives to be a partner in a carbohydrate-based affair. Once I had emerged from an unfamiliar haze of serenity, the compulsion to attempt to make this with a few augmentations burned bright. I've never to hide my influences, from taking my ingredient ideas from the podcast Spilled Milk to absorbing everything Deb Perelman writes/says/posts on Instagram by osmosis, I have to say that there's something personally very satisfying from taking inspiration from those who surround you (or just audaciously editing their unwritten recipe, no biggie).
When it came to me recreating the recipe, I added a few aromatics (garlic, ginger, a bay leaf) and, due to my enduring fascination with sugar-burnt foods, caramelised some onions and the cabbage strips before adding them into the soup. The taste remains largely the same, but every so often you'll pick up on a sweetly tangy char from the onions. In terms of what pulses you used, where I used mung beans and yellow split peas you might amend this to reflect whatever is available in your cupboards. Do note that this may alter cooking times and liquid proportions, so I'll try to provide a note on substitutions below.
A note on flatbreads - yes, I did them too! While they're totally non-essential (especially given the flour situation mentioned above) they a lot of fun to make, and I've given a very simple recipe below. Please do note that these are meant to be irregular; the imprecise morphology is a sign of character, for sure. Some will be thinner and crispier, whereas others will have a doughier sturdiness to them, and it's always best to remember that the first of the batch will virtually never be the best so don't be discouraged. As the pan gets hotter, they will cook quicker. Also, pro-tip: in between each flat bread, quickly scrape any remaining debris out of the pan to avoid it smoking up your kitchen. Turns out I'm qualified to give out pro-tips now, and I will be flexing that as much as possible.
Much like the kimchi stew from last week, this really is a recipe built up from a very simple blueprint. Essentially, you could just make this with one variety of pulse and a stock; everything else is an extra added to taste, so don't get too worked up about leaving out any ingredients besides the three cornerstones. I feel like I have to note as well that, while I called this a soup, there is a very small amount of liquid; just enough to anoint each spoonful of pulses. If you did want it to be soupier, then you can increase the amount of liquid you use; the quantity I've stipulated can be treated as a minimum.
Mung Bean and Split Pea Soup
(served with Caraway Seed Flatbreads)
Preparation time: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 40 minutes
Serves: 2 people
Ingredients
160g of dried mung beans
80g of dried yellow split peas
450ml of vegetable stock
1 brown onion, roughly chopped
5 outer leaves of savoy cabbage, cut into long strips
2 cloves of garlic, crushed and finely minced
1 tsp of fresh ginger, cut into thin strips
1 tsp of red pepper flakes
1 bay leaf
1 tsp of light soy sauce
1 tsp of dark brown sugar
1 tsp of horseradish sauce
1 tbsp of vegetable oil
1/2 tsp of salt
1/2 tsp of crushed black pepper
Flatbreads
100g of white flour
100ml of warm water
1 tbsp of vegetable/olive oil
1 tsp of caraway seeds
1/2 tsp of ground cumin
1/4 tsp of salt
Method
Add the mung beans and yellow split peas to a large saucepan with the vegetable stock, soy sauce and horseradish sauce, turn on to a high heat and bring to a boil. Once the stock is boiling, add in the garlic, ginger, pepper flakes, bay leaf, a 1/4 tsp of salt and pepper to the pan and turn down to a medium low heat. Cover the saucepan and simmer for 20 minutes.
While the soup is simmering, heat the vegetable oil in a medium sized saucepan on a high heat. Once the oil is hot and sizzling, add the onions, the other 1/4 tsp of salt and the dark brown sugar and saute them on a high heat for 3 minutes or until soft. When the onions have softened somewhat turn the heat down to medium, and continue to saute the onions, stirring occasionally.
After the onions have been in the saucepan for about 10 minutes, add the cabbage strips to the pan as well as a very small extra sprinkle of salt and turn up to high. Stir them into the onions until softened slightly and coated very lightly with sugar. Turn the heat down to medium and continue to saute the cabbage for another five minutes.
Once the cabbage has finished, stir it into the soup mix along with the onions. Keep the soup mix on a low heat to simmer lightly while you make the flatbreads. This will allow the cabbage to absorb some of the juices without becoming soggy.
To make the flatbreads, combine the flour, water, caraway seeds, cumin, oil and salt in a bowl and integrate together by twisting it through your fingers until it forms a dough. You might need to knead it very slightly in order to get all of the straggly bits of flour to adhere, but it should come together pretty simply.
Divide the dough into four spheres that are around the size of a golf ball. On a lightly floured surface, flatten the spheres using your palm, before stretching the dough out with a rolling pin, around 6-8 inches in diameter. As long as the dough is relatively thin then it will be fine. I find it easiest to do this part one at a time while they're being cooked. So while one flatbread is in the pan, you will have the time to roll out the dough for the next one.
Heat a frying pan without oil on a high temperature. Cook the flatbreads on each side for one minute before removing to a plate. The first flatbread you cook may need about 30 seconds longer on each side as the pan comes to temperature.
When the flatbreads are done, serve them on a plate and decant the soup into bowls and serve.
Notes & Adjustments
There are a few adjustments you can make to the pulses here. If you don't have any yellow split peas, you could use brown or green lentils in their place and add an extra 10 minutes on to the cooking time. You may find you need slightly more liquid for these too. You could use adzuki beans in place of the mung beans, however these need to be cooked for 1 and a half hours and will require more liquid.
I understand the caraway seeds are controversial (if someone could tell me why this is, then that'd be fantastic) - if you're not a fan, then I would take out the ground cumin, and use cumin seeds for a more straightforward taste.
If you don't have red pepper flakes to hand then use 1/2 a tsp of crushed chilli flakes.
I think that savoy cabbage works best in this preparation, but the closest replacement to it would probably be a similar amount of white cabbage.
You can use plain granulated sugar here to caramelise the onions; it won't have as toasty a flavour but will still work well.
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