When I was twenty-four, I met Julian. She was an enthusiastic artist from Holland who bragged about all things Dutch.

I was intrigued, I had never been to Europe, I was living on my own, in my first apartment, hoping to become a sophisticated cook able to make elegant food. She talked about and promised Dutch Soup at every opportunity.

When she finally invited me to dinner, I was shocked. Rather than being served Dutch Soup, she served meatloaf – Meatloaf! She called it DUTCH MEATLOAF – but it was meatloaf. It was tasty and filled with lots of vegetables and unexpected spice but it wasn’t the international delicacy I was hoping for. She shared her recipe and promised that one day she would make Dutch Soup for me.

Julian was a creative and energetic artist and cook. Her pantry was her palette and each meatloaf was an original. It might be an all beef meatloaf, or it might include sausage, ground veal, pork or chicken. Day old bread, crushed crackers or rolled oats might be substituted for breadcrumbs. Once she added grated raw potatoes instead of carrots to the mix and occasionally she slathered the meatloaf with that classic Dutch condiment, Heinz catsup.

I realized that, at least to Julian, everything that was labeled Heinz was Dutch when months after the meatloaf party she relented and invited a group of friends to dinner for Dutch Soup. When we arrived, she opened a couple of bottles of wine, not Dutch, and set out some cheese, Dutch, and crackers, origin unknown, and disappeared into her kitchen. She insisted on privacy in the kitchen while she cooked. In about fifteen minutes, we were called to the table and she proudly served the Dutch soup. It was thick, brownish-greenish-red and had lumps. It was steamy hot and tasted terrible. I had managed to swallow a few spoonfuls and politely asked if she would share the recipe. She was pleased, delighted to be asked and generously explained how to make this Dutch classic.

I will share her recipe with you but only if you promise not to invite me to dinner when you make it or tell anyone where you got the recipe. Here’s how she made it: Into a large pot, it need not be a Dutch oven, dump one can of Heinz Tomato soup, one can of Heinz Split Pea soup, one can of milk, half a can of water, half a can of dry sherry, two cans of cocktail sausages and one large can of vegetables, peas, corn or tomatoes will do. Heat until steaming, serve and try to figure out why she called it Dutch Soup. I never have – figured out its name or made it.

I used Julian’s recipe last Saturday as the centerpiece of a cozy, traditional American supper for two. Here’s how I did it:

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Our friends Annie and Andre came to spend the weekend and our fridge was overflowing with vegetables.

I used my ten step plan to make a pot of Curried Summer Squash Soup that chased the chill and absorbed some of the squash overload. Here’s how I did it: … read more

In April every radish is a treasure, in May the appearance of spinach seedlings brings joy, in June it is delightful to create a salad of tender greens, in July the garden and the kitchen are in harmony, in August tomatoes and squash are overflowing, in September, apples, pears and plums appear along with school buses, and the CSA share that seemed modest in the spring is overwhelming.

Cucumbers and parsley are turning to slime in the bottom of the fridge, tomatoes are being passed back and forth between friends like fruitcake in December, zucchini and yellow squash are nearly the size of canoes and there is a bunch of rainbow chard lurking around every corner.

Whether you call it Vegetable Overload, Squash Surplus, Garden Glut, or CSA Bounty, it is imperative to have a strategy to survive this delightful dilemma. I suggest soup. Call it Empty the Refrigerator Soup, Wilted Vegetable Soup or Garden Delight Soup but don’t delay, it’s time to start chopping, sauteing, simmering, serving and storing soup.

I have a ten-step game plan that I follow whenever I make soup. The steps are the same whether I’m making a simple, pureed broccoli soup or a hearty vegetable soup. I adjust ingredients, quantities and proportions according to the contents of my fridge, my pantry, and also include vegetables that have been left in my unlocked car by generous friends. Here’s my soup game plan:

1. Heat oil in stockpot
2. Saute aromatic vegetables in oil in the stockpot until tender but not browned
3. Add meat and cook until browned
4. Add herbs and spices
5. Add liquid
6. Add vegetables and simmer until tender
7. Puree (if desired)
8. Add additional liquid to thin soup to desired consistency
9. Adjust seasoning
10. Serve with appropriate garnish

The oil can be butter, olive oil, grape seed oil, vegetable oil coconut or any combination, and should just coat the bottom of the pot. Onions, leeks, garlic, scallions, shallots, carrots and celery are all aromatic vegetables and any combination will work. Meat is optional, it may be ground, or cut in small pieces or one large piece that is be sliced when the soup is served. The liquid for Step 5 can be water, broth, or stock or a combination but, because it will be simmered to cook the vegetables and meat, it should not be a dairy product. The liquid in Step 8 can include cream, milk, sour cream, yogurt, or coconut milk. In Step 9, adjusting seasoning may mean adding a bit more salt or pepper or other more exotic flavors like a bit of bourbon, orange zest, lime juice, hot sauce, etc. Garnishes may be as simple as a thin slice of lemon or as luxurious as a chunk of lobster. Raw fish or shellfish can be added for the last five minutes of Step 6. Refrigerate or freeze leftover soup for another day.

Wild grapes are sour and perhaps the Aesop’s fable, The Fox and the Grapes, is the reason that the proper name for wild grapes is fox grapes.

I hope that the possibility of encountering an animal doesn’t deter you from gathering grapes. I wouldn’t mind seeing a bear, if it were as friendly as the ones Sal and her mother saw. This year, the only animals we encountered as we picked grapes were a pair of birds who weren’t happy about sharing and three sleepy beetles that traveled to our kitchen sink on the vines.

Sponge cake, topped with a layer of jelly and rolled into a spiral is a special treat when both the sponge cake and the jelly are homemade. Here’s how I did it:  … read more

I was driving home from the library when a bear ran across the road in front of my car. It’s the third bear I’ve seen that wasn’t behind bars in the zoo. The other two were performing bears, dressed in vests and hats on the street in Istanbul. This naked, energetic, black bear brought to mind, Blueberries for Sal, Robert McCloskey’s book for children that combines the joy of finding and gathering wild food with the possibility of meeting an animal or two in the process. Although it was too late to look for blueberries, the sight of the bear reminded me that September is wild grape time in Vermont.

It’s easy to spot wild grape vines that have climbed trees, utility poles and wires to reach the sunlight and their yellowing leaves are the signal that it’s harvest time. When cooked with sugar, the grapes that Charles and I harvest each fall become an intense grape jelly. I made eighteen jars of jelly with this year’s harvest. We will spread it on toast, use it to flavor yogurt, give it to friends and enjoy the rest slathered on sponge cake in divine jelly rolls. With just grapes and sugar and a bit of water the jelly is easy to make. Here’s how I did it:

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