Thread by @DiscoPriest

Okay, I’m going to bring you all on a journey with me. We’re going to make The Soup.

Back when I had a French family, the mom made this every other day (you had leftover Soup on the odd day).

Melt this much butter. French butter is, of course, preferred.

Obtain two leeks. Cut them in half, rotate a quarter and cut them again (in an X pattern) BUT! Leave a bit of the end attached. Run water straight down the center of the leek and you’ll wash it out without having to fish leek strands out of everything.

Cut into 1/2”-ish chunks, like duh doy. My French family had eight children and lived on a large working horse farm, so their mother was always, always working. I rinsed and chopped many leeks.

Introduce the leeks to the pot, at the lowest possible temperature because you have a lot more chopping to do.

Do not attempt to salt at this point unless you would like a French housewife to slap your knuckles with a spatula. Instead, dispatch the zucchini and summer squash. I’m only cutting up two but then, I’m only cooking for three people and not eleven.

You can make The Soup with any vegetable you’d like. The rule are: No carbs, and start with leeks. Potatoes are right out, but I like carrots in mine. Baby carrots are just whittled-down real carrots and much easier to have on hand

My French parents were both doctors (retired), and it was very common for dinner to be interrupted by someone who had an ailment that needed to be cured, and who would pay with a chicken. At this point, turn up the heat quite high- 8 out of 10, say.

While you’re worrying about how hot your pan is, chop a tomato- which wasn’t often done but I love tomatoes and these are heirlooms, which my French dad grew with great pride alongside his prize-winning roses. Just one is enough.

Fret that the pot seems VERY hot and is starting to smell TOO much like leeks (but be brave).

Do NOT add salt now, despite the temptation. Instead, contemplate that I once made my French parents an all-American apple pie (very good by US standards), which they each took one bite of and in chorus said, “Mmmmmmmm, CANELLE!” (cinnamon. It isn’t used in French pastries).

‘Rictus’ properly describes their faces. Don’t even ask me what happened when I made them a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

At this point, if you’ve been brave and true on both the heat and salt fronts, you will observe a nice vegetal broth forming in the bottom of the pot. Try not to stir too terribly much at this stage as you’ll knock the squashes to pieces.

Now add one clove of minced garlic- I’m using a frozen variety because I’m a disgusting American who puts cinnamon in perfectly good tartes aux pommes and bungs them in some sort of casserole to boot. Awful. Only one clove! We’re not *Italians*.

At this point it should be a lot less soupy than you’d think with all the cucurbitas, but remember: we didn’t add salt, so we’re getting a really good sear at the bottom without too much water being wrong out. Bung in two to six tablespoons of butter at this point, as you like.

At this point it should be beautifully tender and possibly browning but VERY dry. Butter doesn’t seem to have any effect on weight if you’re French, since all eight children were supermodel skinny.

Add this many wine.

Now, you’re going to smell a kind of heady wine smell and when that happens, TURN THE BURNER DOWN, TURN IT DOWN IMMEDIATELY! Set it to the lowest setting and stare at it broodingly for a bit- say a minute or two. Do not attempt to stir unless you want to, once or twice.

Snip some thyme off your thyme plant and pull the finicky little leaves off one by one and put them in The Soup with an aggrieved air.

I think the thyme is meant to stop you from getting bored and dumping in the stock right and walking away. The wine needs time to get acquainted with the vegetables.

Fun fact for thyme plucking: The only time I’ve ever fallen off a horse was in front of my sister-in-law when we were on the farm’s horses, going down what might be reasonably described as a cliff. She laughed at me, which I deserved.

Such dedication! Not that the rhyme is in The Soup, and you’ve let the wine simmer with the vegetables and butter for a bit, you may now add stock. Say, three to five cups depending on how much soup you’d like to end up with. Chicken broth is standard.

You can add a little water if you’d like but either way, turn it back up to 5 out of 10ish to heat the stock through and finish cooking the vegetables. Not to mush, but to tenderness.

And The Soup is done. Serve it up before every dinner, with salt and pepper, and alongside bread and butter. I can guarantee it will make your weight more manageable and your evenings more enjoyable. Salut!

I always miss my French family when I make this, and I like to think that somewhere, my former MIL is making a batch between 17 loads of laundry, currying horses, tending the poultry, mulching the vegetable garden, and treating the random villagers who show up at dinner time.