Early morning rain
and a recipe for lovage and potato soup
I was never an early riser.
I always thought of sleeping in late as the ultimate luxury. No alarm, no schedule, no place to go was always my idea of a perfect Sunday morning. But as I’ve gotten older it’s the quiet breaking of dawn that I love best.
Rising high above the city as I do now, I never expected to be so close to the beauty of nature. Yet here on my 8th floor aerie, before the steady hum of traffic ensues, or the local fire engine blares its first clarion call, there’s a deep connection to the world around me. Though I don’t see them, I can hear the not too far away trill of cardinals, the bossy call of the bluejay. Little brown sparrows are closer companions, coming for quick sips of visits on my terrace railing, hopping near my feet, or alighting on the outdoor dining table.
Even more thrilling for nature-loving me are my pollinator visitors. In this expanse of concrete and stone, my little garden is bright enough and fragrant enough to attract a fat bumblebee to sip my hosta blossoms, a butterfly to alight on my fledgling rose bush or lavender plant. It’s a reminder that we clumsy interlopers on this green earth are duty-bound to create a haven, no matter how small, for our sentient being companions.
Early morning rain
Although the sun fills me like a tonic, it’s the early morning rain I love best. The gentle pitter patter adds an extra blanket of calm over the city. In the distance the CN Tower is shrouded in mist, becoming as mysterious as Oz, where magic infuses every corner and fantastical creatures roam free.
In this realm of possibilities, I try to do a reset, an intention setting of sorts. As I sit in the quiet of the breaking dawn, I’m reminded that behind the clouds is the ever-present sun, awaiting its moment to shine, just as I can too.
Lovage and potato soup
Barbara Kafka, Soup: A Way of Life
makes six to eight servings
It may be a bit unfair of me to propose a recipe whose main ingredient may be hard to come by, and not able to be substituted. But perhaps I might intrigue you enough to seek out lovage for this simply sensational soup.
The leaves of lovage can enhance salads, soups, and broths, while the roots can be eaten as a vegetable or grated into salads. Its flavour and aroma resemble celery and parsley but are more intense and spicy. The seeds can be used as a spice, similar to fennel seeds.
Lovage, with its bold celery-like flavour and aromatic leaves, adds a vibrant touch to any dish. It was prized for its medicinal properties and culinary uses in ancient Rome and medieval Europe, and while not necessarily a kitchen staple now, it is still beloved by many. As Kafka says, lovage is a perennial worth growing and stays green from earliest spring late into the fall.
Ingredients
2 tablespoons (30 g) unsalted butter
2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
6 cups (1.5 l) chicken stock
2 pounds (900 g) firm potatoes, peeled and cut across into ¼-inch (.5-cm) slices
1 cup (30 g) loosely packed lovage leaves, stems removed, cut across into narrow strips
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
In a medium stockpot, melt the butter over medium heat. Stir in the onions and lower the heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about 20 minutes. The onions should be very soft and beginning to brown.
Stir in the stock and potatoes. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 20 minutes, or until the potatoes are just starting to fall apart. Stir in the lovage and simmer for 4 minutes.
Gently whisk it with a balloon whisk so that the potato slices break up slightly and thickens the soup. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
The soup can be made up to 3 days ahead and refrigerated.