27 Nov 2023
Elena Hogg, founder of local culinary company FOOD by Elena, looks at some healthier options when it comes to comfort food…
I have just had lunch with my husband, who’s working from home today because he’s battling a nasty cold and doesn’t want to spread it to his colleagues.
More than most days, today we really needed this meal to be therapeutic as much as nourishing, because outside it is drizzling, grey and blustery.
The meteorological incarnation of misery. Drizzle is the most insidious of precipitation forms: it has you soaking wet if you’re out in it for more than five minutes, even though you can barely feel the droplets, and blankets your very soul with its oppressive dankness. A little dramatic, perhaps, but it really is wretched out there and it helps me to have a good moan about it.
On days like this, the crude notion that fancy food is best falls utterly by the wayside, to be replaced by the underestimated force that is stodge.
Oh yes, there’s nothing quite like a steaming, butter-clogged jacket potato with lashings
of baked beans and cheese melting on top when you’re feeling the need for comfort.
Add a spritz of tabasco or Lea & Perrins and it really is the icing on the cake. Or the sauce on the spud.
If you’ve gone one step further still and mustered the foresight to get one in the oven for a long, slow bake, then credit to you. I never do. But I’ve grown fond of the tough, chewy bits of potato skin that over-microwaving causes. I’m easily pleased.
Much as the weather is only likely to worsen as we head towards winter, stodgy food can’t be the only answer, because the arteries might object by spring, to say nothing of the waistline. So the solution is to find feel-good, bolstering dishes that are also nourishing, that is to say: guilt-free comfort food. I hear your collective scoffing, dear readers, but I am adamant it’s feasible. Soup.
I accept that the meagre word ‘soup’ can conjure images of sad, insipid liquids masquerading as food, sometimes with the odd chunk of greying potato or anaemic carrot bobbing about. But with extremely little effort and some carefully chosen store cupboard aids, the wishy-washy can be made glorious.
Start out with the standard chopped onion (or leek), carrot and celery. I know it’s tedious chopping it all up, but the flavours offer a solid base favour to almost any soup, and you can buy ready-chopped mixes in the shops if time’s against you.
Then take the humble legume: lentils, split peas, butter beans or cannellini – or any of the other huge array – you can’t go wrong. Pop open a can that’s been hiding in the larder for months, or find that bag of dried beans you bought when you were feeling ‘zen’ last January – there’s very little difference once you’ve added everything else into the mix.
I’m very fond of pulses instead of potatoes in soup, because they give the same creamy roundness in flavour and texture, but they also up the protein content immeasurably, meaning it’ll keep you full for way longer. Plus, my nutritionist friend Laura has read studies on how beans are technically a superfood and including them in our diets on a daily basis is a very good idea. ‘Nuff said.
So, add some stock to the chopped veg and beans, and let it all simmer for at least half an hour. Aim for somewhere between ‘everything’s soft enough to blend smooth’ and ‘boiled beyond recognition’.
If you’re feeling particularly energetic, add some herbs: a little clump of thyme stalks or a spring of rosemary will make everything sing, but be sure to remove before blending or it’ll be like eating a bar of soap. With annoying woody bits.
This is a brilliant recipe for kids, too, because after blending there’s no discernible vegetable matter in there and, unless you use darker legumes like lentils, it’s a pleasantly neutral colour rather than brown or green – both colours that elicit the gag reflex on sight in both my children.
In order to spruce it up a little for adult partakers, an extremely quick fix is to keep back a few beans or chickpeas (whichever you used to make the soup in the first place, though chickpeas work best for this), spread them on a baking tray, then add some oil, smoked paprika, ground cumin and some salt.
Shake the tray vigorously so the pulses roll about and get evenly covered, then roast for 15 minutes or so till they go crispy. Sprinkle them onto your bowl of soup for some texture and a smoky punch of flavour.
A modicum of effort in the garnishing of a bowl of simple, hearty soup can make a huge difference in how much you want to eat it.
Just popping a few rounds of crusty bread spread with store-bought tapenade or pesto under the grill can elevate your tomato soup no end, and provide something to crunch on mid-slurp.
Also vastly undervalued is broth.
By broth, I don’t mean some painstakingly clarified stock made from the bones of a hand-reared calf and lovingly simmered for days on end. I really just mean a decent stock cube dissolved in hot water, because the ‘comfort’ element of comfort food rapidly disappears when too much effort is required.
That said, merely adding a few slices of root ginger to a saucepan of stock, plus a slug of soy sauce or fish sauce, brings on the intense, umami hit of Asian cuisine.
That’s honestly all it takes, although, you know, if you happened to have some Thai basil or kaffir lime leaves to hand, a stalk of lemongrass or some shrimp paste, then you’re really in for a treat.
You can add just about anything you like to this: prawns, torn-up roast chicken, peas, shredded pork, edamame, mangetout, carrots, sweetcorn, even lettuce. I add noodles for the starchy hit comfort food demands, then I hunch over the bowl with a spoon in one hand for the broth and a set of chopsticks for shoving the noodles into my mouth.
It feels somehow primal and no doubt looks repugnant, to the point where my husband tuts at me and shakes his head. But I’m at one with my dinner and that, my friend, is my happy place. I hope you find yours in a bowl of soup, too.
