Kitchen soup - Memories of my Gran and Mum. Home, heart and a beautiful cuddle every time
Fond memories I have of my gran's kitchen soup and my mother's: A cold winter's day equals a hot kitchen soup. It's called kitchen soup due to the fact that you throw in anything you can find in the kitchen: Carrots, turnip, cabbage, leftover chicken, pork or beef, you name it. You learn what works best over time.
I tend to use a mix of grated and finely chopped veg. We are not going for aesthetics here, It's all about the texture and flavour.... It must have lots of flavour.
If you have time you could make your own stock but a stock cube or three will work well enough. I love making stock. Not only are you getting every bit of goodness from your left over bits of chicken, you also get that little extra feeling of pride when people tuck in to your kitchen soup (Jonathan mother calls it Church of England soup).
Its always a good idea to go through your cupboards and fridge, find out what you want to use up (it's great to use the ends of packets, that little bit of rice and pasta left at the bottom. Mix it in, its wonderful).
I fry the diced onion, carrots, celery, leeks and what ever veg I am using for about 10 to 15mins. Its really not that important. I think it's the best way to get the flavour out of the veg and in to the soup. Trial and error is the way forward. It is nearly impossible to get it wrong, its just water and veg goodness!
I can remember running into my gran and grandad's house when I was a wee boy. The smells still linger in my memory: Peppery, chickeny, sweet and steamy warm, mixed with the smell of warm crusty bread! Thinking about this actually brings tears to my eyes. Papa (grandfather) as we all call him, would have his soup in his special mug-cum-bowl. No matter how fine and tasty the soup was, he would always cover it in pepper. I was always happy the way it was. I would cut a massive chuck of bread. Spread so much butter on it, that when I bit the bread I could see my teeth marks!