| Table set with Cod Soup |
A couple of weeks ago, I was discussing getting together with some good friends, the Charkows, and as usual, we argued over who had hosted whom last.
"I need you to come here," I said after a few times back and forth, "because I have to make this recipe for the blog."
"What exactly is a blog?" Carol asked.
| Lucy with friends Carol and Jay, plus Tonka |
Mediterranean Cod Soup
Chunky Basil Sauce
Plus one additional can (35 oz) of crushed or diced tomatoes
1 cup chopped onions
1 ½ lb fresh cod cut into two inch chunks
2 green zucchini cut into 1/2” dice
¼ cup sliced black olives
2 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon (I omitted this)
2/3 cup white wine
2/3 cup chicken stock
1 cup water (optional) (or a little more broth to thin)
2 Tablespoons olive oil
1 large shallot, chopped
1 tablespoon minced onion
1 teaspooon each: dried oregano, dried basil, garlic and salt
1 (35 oz) can Italian whole tomatoes
Heat oil and sauté shallots, onions and spices. Pour off about 1 cup of the liquid from the tomatoes and set aside. Chop the tomatoes coarsely and add to the oil/spice mixture. Bring to a boil and simmer for 35 minutes or so. If sauce gets too thick, add a little of the reserved tomato liquid.
Heat the soup to serving temperature and add the cod chunks. The cod will cook quickly so test every few minutes. When the cod is done, remove the chunks with a slotted spoon and place in the serving bowls. Ladle soup over the top.
Hayley Snow invites Lorenzo the tarot card reader to lunch in Topped
Chef. She decides she’ll serve him Mediterranean fish soup. Here’s how
it goes:Once the half-frozen tomato sauce was warming in a pan, I began to dice zucchini, black olives, and onions while Miss Gloria cut the ciabatta into thick slices and brushed them with olive oil. Adding the vegetables to the pan with two-thirds cup of white wine and chicken broth, I brought the sauce to a simmer and cut the grouper into chunks. While the bread toasted, Miss Gloria finished setting the table.
“Do you think he’ll read our cards?” she asked. “I’ve never had it done. I’m a little nervous.”
I didn’t tell her I was nervous, too. I’d never seen Lorenzo as a civilian. Or cooked for him. But more than that, the last time he’d read my cards, I’d almost lost my mother. I realized that somehow the two things had started to get twined up in my brain: tarot and danger.
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