193. Corn Relish (p. 902) and 194. Fresh Corn Soup (p. 99)

Has 2009 been some sort of bumper crop year for corn, or what? For the last several weeks, there have been at least a dozen ears of fresh corn in my CSA box. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. It's delicious! Crisp and sweet, but, seriously, that's a lot of corn. And while plain old corn on the cob is one of the true joys of summer, I've also been taking advantage of the corn surplus by focusing on The Book's many corn recipes.

The first recipe* for Corn Relish brought me back in time. When I was a little kid, summer cookouts at my grandparents' house usually involved something called piccalilli. This sweet, tangy brightly-colored relish was always a real favorite of mine. It's been years since I've had it, but one taste of this corn relish brought me right back. Now, traditional piccalilli has cauliflower in it, but it's the seasonings in this relish ... the tumeric and dry mustard ... that are classic piccalilli flavors.

To make the relish, I started by cutting the kernels off eight ears of corn to get four cups of kernels. If you've never done it, cutting the kernels off ears of corn is really easy. First, get a great big bowl and a serrated knife. Stand the corncob on its end in the middle of the bowl, and with a sawing motion, cut the kernels off the cob. As you cut them off, they'll fall into the bowl, and if the bowl is big enough, it will catch any wayward kernels (they tend to scatter a bit as you saw them off). Next, I finely chopped some celery, white onion, and green and red bell peppers. I tried to chop the vegetables to about the same size as the corn kernels, so that everything would be of uniform size. (Excellent knife skilz practice!) The Book calls for green pepper only, but I decided to add a red bell pepper for some nice color.

I mixed the corn and chopped vegetables with some white vinegar, sugar, water, dry mustard, salt, tumeric and celery seeds. I brought it all to a boil and then reduced the heat and simmered it for about 15 minutes. I cooled the relish at room temperature and then transferred it to some plastic containers and put it in the refrigerator to chill.

This stuff is delicious. It's crunchy and sweet with a nice vinegary bite and the bold mustard and celery flavor. And the intense yellow color from the tumeric is bright and sunny. The recipe made about two quarts. The Book says that it keeps for a month in the refrigerator, but I didn't get to test that theory. My wife and I polished off a quart of the relish in about two weeks, enjoying a little bit of it as a condiment with sandwiches and salads for lunch. Another pint disappeared at our family's Labor Day cookout, and I gave the last pint to my sister-in-law. This is an easy and delicious recipe that could easily become a summer tradition.

The second recipe for Fresh Corn Soup was good, but not great. The Book calls it "pure simplicity" and says that it's "all about the corn." This is an incredibly apt description. There's really only one ingredient: corn. (Yeah, you also need water, a bit of salt and some chopped chives as a garnish.)

First I cut the kernels from a dozen ears of corn. As easy as it is to cut the kernels off corncobs, I won't lie, it took some time to do it to a dozen ears. Next, I brought the corn, six cups of water and some sea salt to a boil. Then, I reduced the heat and simmered it for about 20 minutes.

Then comes the pureeing. The Book says to do it in the blender, but I decided to use my immersion blender. It seemed a lot quicker and a lot less messy. Once it was all blended, I poured the soup through a fine-meshed sieve, pressing on the solids to get all of the liquid out.

The Book says that the soup can be served, sprinkled with chopped chives, either hot or cold. I tried it both ways, and while I liked it a lot, I didn't love it. This soup was pure corn essence. The flavor was excellent, and somehow, it was buttery and creamy even though it has not a bit of dairy in it at all. The problem I had with this soup was that it was too light. It had no substance. If I were to have a small bowl of this as a first course before a big meal, I'd be very impressed by it. But, eating this as my main lunchtime meal left me wanting more. I think that this soup could have been improved by adding some more fresh whole corn kernels at the end to give it a bit of crunch and some more heft.

(As I mentioned recently, I have a pretty big backlog of recipes that I've cooked and haven't blogged about yet. For some reason, I did't take a picture of the corn soup, and, for the life of me, I can't even remember exactly when I cooked it.)

Corn Relish
Date Cooked: August 29, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A

*The recipe for Corn Relish isn't on epicurious.com.
Fresh Corn Soup
Date Cooked: Early August, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Very Easy
Rating: B+

171. Mexican Corn Soup (p. 86)

Summer's here, and that means a bigger selection of beautiful fresh (and sometimes local!) vegetables at the grocery stores and farm stands. One of the greatest summer vegetables is fresh corn, and this recipe* lets it shine.

First, I cooked some garlic, chopped onion and jalapenos in some olive oil. I added some cumin, coriander, salt and pepper, and chopped carrots and celery and cooked it for a while longer.

I shucked eight ears of corn and cut the kernels off the cobs. I put the cobs, some water and chicken stock in the pot and simmered it for a few minutes. This step seemed a little unusual to me at first, but when I thought about it, it made perfect sense. The corn cobs gave the finished soup a boost of corny flavor and a nice creaminess. I added all but one cup of the corn kernels and simmered it for a few minutes more. After the soup was finished simmering, I fished out the corncobs with some tongs and discarded them.

While the soup was simmering, I put a red bell pepper under the broiler, turning it frequently until it was nice and charred. I put the pepper into a zip-top bag to steam for a little bit, and then peeled off the skin (it slips right off), and chopped it and set it aside.

I blended the soup in batches in my blender. (I'm getting pretty good at the whole hot-soup-in-the-blender thing. All it takes is some self confidence. Put a towel over the blender cover, clamp down on the cover with your hand, and hold on for dear life!) The Book says that for an even smoother soup, you can force the blended soup through a fine-mesh sieve. I was pretty happy with the texture, so I skipped this optional step.

I blanched the reserved cup of kernels in some boiling water for just a couple of minutes, and then added the corn to the soup along with the chopped roasted pepper, a dash of cayenne, and a nice handful of chopped cilantro.

This was an excellent soup. It was sweet and creamy with just a suggestion of heat from the jalapeno and cayenne. The whole corn kernels and chopped cilantro gave it a very nice and bright freshness. Summer in a bowl.

Date Cooked: June 26, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

* This recipe isn't on epicurious.com.

161. Yellow Split Pea Soup (p. 111)

When I sat down to Easter dinner a few months ago, I was more than a little distracted. Sure there was a lot of great food and lively conversation in the dining room. But, my mind was back in the kitchen, where a great big, meaty ham bone rested on a cutting board, just begging to be turned into pea soup. I knew that I'd have to arm-wrestle my sister-in-law over the ham bone. Somehow, I persuaded her to let me take it in exchange for some pea soup.

With the zip-locked ham bone in hand, I left my sister-in-law's house on Easter Sunday a happy man. I put the ham bone in the fridge, and made this recipe the following weekend. Now, even though it's been a couple of months since I made this soup, I'm just writing about it now because I hadn't actually eaten any of it until about a week ago.

First, I rinsed some yellow split peas. Next, I combined the rinsed peas, some water, chopped onion, and the ham bone in a big pot and brought it to a boil. I skimmed off the yucky stuff, and reduced the heat and simmered it for about an hour.

Meanwhile, I sauteed some more chopped onion and some chopped leek in some butter. I added these sauteed vegetables to the soup with some fresh chopped chives, some dried savory, and salt and pepper. After another hour of cooking, I removed the ham bone, picked off whatever meat hadn't fallen off and added it to the soup.

Once the soup cooled, I divided it into four large containers. I gave one to each of my two sisters-in-law, and I put the other two in the freezer. Other than a spoonful to taste, I didn't eat any of the soup until I pulled one of the containers out of the freezer for lunch last week.

This soup was excellent. Thick, hearty, silky, salty and meaty. I'm sure that I'm going to fight for the ham bone next Easter, too, so that I can make this soup again.

Date Cooked: April 19, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

130. Mushroom Barley Soup (p. 113)

I used to have an aversion to mushrooms. Maybe aversion is too strong a word. But, I really didn't like them, that's for sure. One of my goals in this Project, however, is to broaden my food horizons, and get over any lingering food hang-ups that I may have. I would have never guessed that a recipe calling for two pounds of mushrooms would turn out to be one of my favorite dishes of the Project so far, but it is.

This recipe is not very complicated, but it does take a couple of hours. First, I soaked some dried porcini mushrooms in some boiling water. While the porcinis were doing their thing, I started cooking some garlic and chopped onions in some oil in my large Dutch oven. When the onions were nice and golden, I added two pounds of sliced white onions and the dried onions. (I skipped the soy sauce called for by The Book ... I'm cooking soy free these days.) Once most of the liquid cooked off from the mushrooms (they give off a lot of liquid) I added some cooking sherry and boiled that until it evaporated. Then I added some chicken broth (store bought, sorry), water, the soaking liquid from the porcinis (strained through a paper towel to get rid of any grit from the dried mushrooms). To that I added some sliced carrots, dried pearl barley and some dried rosemary and tyhme. I let the whole thing simmer for about an hour. Just before serving, I added some salt, pepper and a healthy handful of chopped fresh parsley.

This soup was excellent. I mean, really, really good. It was rich, hearty and intensely flavorful. The barley, white mushrooms and carrots give the soup heft and substance. I enjoyed this soup with some crusty bread and a glass of red wine. A perfect dinner.

One of the things that struck me about this soup was its "meaty" flavor. But how can that be? There isn't any beef in this soup. Well, it turns out that the meaty flavor that we love in steaks and beef stew is umami, one of the five basic tastes sensed by our tongues. Umami is the savory or meaty flavor that we perceive in meat, cheese and fermented foods (like miso). It's the tongue's reaction to glutamates, the amino acids that are plentiful in these foods. Well, two other foods that have lots of glutamates are onions and mushrooms, and there are plenty of them in this soup, meaning plenty of umami and plenty of meaty flavor.

Another food science note. As I mentioned a little while ago, I'm trying to cook wheat-, dairy- and soy-free these days because my three-month-old son's intolerance to one or all of these things is limiting my wife's diet. We decided to give this recipe a try because, according to my Oxford Companion to Food, barley contains much less gluten than wheat. Well, much less was still too much, and little Jack had a reaction (green poo ... not that you asked).

So, that means that I'll be enjoying the three quart-sized containers of leftover soup myself. And, that's just fine by me.

Date Cooked: March 28, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A

126. Congee (Chinese Chicken and Rice Porridge) (p. 122)

One of my favorite books of all time (and favorite movies, for that matter) is The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck. The story follows Wang Lung on his journey from a modest country farmer to a wealthy aristocrat. Throughout the rises and falls of his fortunes, Wang Lung always remembers his connection to the land and the importance of his family.

According to The Book (the Gourmet Cookbook, not The Good Earth) Congee was often eaten morning, noon and night in Chinese peasant homes. So it's no surprise that this recipe made me think of The Good Earth, and Wang Lung's humble and constant companion, O-Lan. As I made this hearty, rustic dish, I could picture O-Lan patiently tending the fire under a large kettle of rice porridge, and then serving it to Wang Lung and his crusty old father.

They say that good things come to those who wait, and that you can't rush greatness. But when it's already 6:30 and you're looking at a recipe with a total cooking time of five and a half hours, you do the best you can. Did I cut a few corners? Did I cook the stock for two hours instead of three? Did I cook the rice for one hour instead of two? Would it have been better if I hadn't rushed it? Yes on all counts. But, you know what? It was pretty good anyway. I really liked it, and I'd make it again when I have the time to do it right. (And just when will that be? No, really ... when will that be?)

Other than time (that's time, not thyme), you really don't need much to make this recipe. Start by cutting a whole chicken into eight serving pieces, put it in a pot and bring it to a boil, skimming off the gunk that bubbles up at the surface. The Book doesn't say whether you're supposed to put the carcass (what was leftover after I cut the chicken into serving pieces) into the pot. I didn't, but I suppose I could have. Reduce to a simmer and add some Chinese rice wine, some thick slices of ginger and a few smashed scallions. After about 20 minutes of simmering, the breast meat is cooked through. The Book says to remove one of the breast halves from the pot and set it aside to cool. This will become the shredded chicken served on top of the finished porridge. If I had it to do again, I would have removed both breast halves. There simply wasn't enough meat in the finished dish. Then, leave the stock to simmer for about three hours (or just barely two hours, if you are in a rush like me).

Strain the stock and discard the solids. Add the rice, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about two hours (or just barely one hour, if you are in a rush like me). The Book says that the finished porridge should have the consistency of oatmeal. Mine was a little more watery than it was supposed to be, but it was late and I needed to get to bed. Anyway, I was making this a couple of days before we planned on eating it. I knew that the rice would continue to absorb the liquid as it sat in the refrigerator. So, by the time we re-heated it, the consistency was just about right.

To serve, I topped the porridge with the shredded chicken breast, some finely sliced scallions, finely chopped ginger and some salt and pepper. The flavor was good, if somewhat subtle (I'm sure that this had to do with the abbreviated cooking time). But, it had a nice fragrance and the ginger, chicken and scallion flavors came through. It also had a slight, but pleasant, sweetness. The texture was a little mooshy, but in a comforting, and not off-putting way. I thought that because of all of the rice and liquid, this would be a real "belly-bomb" of dish, but surprisingly the meal didn't have staying power, and I was looking for more to eat later (cookies and ice cream anyone?).


Date Cooked: March 15, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B

107. Chicken and Rice Soup (p. 122)

A lot of people have been talking about the Great Depression these days. When Herbert Hoover promised Americans "a chicken in every pot," I wonder if he had this recipe in mind.

This is, without a doubt, a recipe for our times. It is simple, cheap and delicious. Really, this soup couldn't be easier (The Book calls it "the simplest soup ever made from scratch"). All you need to do is throw all of the ingredients - including a whole chicken, brown rice and some onion, carrots and celery - in a pot and simmer it for an hour. As the soup simmers, the soup makes its own stock. When it's done, just take the chicken out of the pot, pull the meat apart and put it back in the soup. That's it.

This is also a very economical recipe. The only thing I needed to buy to make this soup was a chicken (and I even had a coupon!). I already had all of the other ingredients in my cupboard and refrigerator. And picking up on the waste-not-want-not theme, I supplemented the soup with whatever leftover vegetables I had on hand: a bit of green cabbage, a zucchini, some frozen green beans and corn. Not only was it thrifty and resourceful to add the extra veggies, I think that it made the soup all the more wholesome and delicious.

Speaking of delicious, this was one of the best soups I've made as part of The Project. The broth was fresh and bright, the veggies were delicious, the brown rice gave a nice substance and texture, and the chicken was perfectly cooked. It was tender and moist. I will definitely make this soup again, maybe even as soon as next week.

Date Cooked: February 8, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: VERY easy
Rating: A

UPDATE: 2/23/09
I made this soup again yesterday. This time, I added some zucchini, summer squash, red bell pepper, brocolli, and a whole mess of frozen veggies: corn, green beans, and even some snow peas. The result was just as good as the first time I made it. It was a little sweeter than last time, I think because of the red pepper and the rather large amount of frozen corn that I used. Delicious just the same.

95. Minestrone (p. 106)

I knew that the first few weeks of parenthood would be hectic (even though I didn't realize just how hectic it would be). So, a few weeks ago, I went on a cooking and freezing spree so that we'd have plenty of food on hand and wouldn't have to worry about making dinner.

This recipe makes a delicious, hearty soup that's packed with all kinds of delicious things: beans, cabbage, kale, bacon, zucchini, carrots, celery and potatoes. More surprising than what's in this soup is what's not in this soup ... pasta. Every other minestrone I've ever had includes some kind of pasta. But, since minestrone is a classic Italian cucina povera dish with no set recipe, one can't say whether the omission of the pasta is "right" or "wrong." In this instance, because the soup was so hearty, and because of the inclusion of potatoes, I think that pasta would have been overkill in this recipe.

First, I soaked some great northern beans overnight (after congratulating myself for planning ahead). The next day, I boiled the beans for a time and then let them stand while I made the rest of the soup. I peeled and diced some potatoes and put them in a bowl of cold water.

Then I pulled out my great big Dutch oven and put in some oil and chopped turkey bacon (The Book calls for pancetta, but my wife won't eat pork). Next, I added the vegetables in sequence based on how long they need to cook: onions, carrot, celery, garlic, potatoes, zucchini, green beans (I used frozen because I couldn't find fresh at my local mega-mart), cabbage, kale and drained, chopped tomatoes. All of this, along with some chicken stock (canned, sorry), simmered for about an hour.

Then, The Book says "Drain beans, reserving liquid," but I somehow missed the second part of this instruction, so all of that glorious, rich bean cooking liquid went right down the drain. Oooops! So I pureed half of the beans with a cup of plain water instead of cooking liquid. I added the puree, the rest of the beans, and a little more water to make up for the missing cooking liquid, and simmered it for another few minutes, and then it was done.

We ate some of the soup right away. I was planning on freezing all of it, but I just happened to finish cooking it right around dinner time, and it looked so good that we couldn't resist. I was delicious. Hearty, flavorful, packed with vegetables. This is an excellent, substantial main-course soup perfect for the winter when you want something to warm you from the inside.

I divided the leftovers into some freezer bags, and after we got home from the hospital, we enjoyed this soup as a quick and easy dinner. I just put the frozen soup in the microwave for three minute intervals, stirring in between, until it was done. When you're exerting so much effort keeping a newborn fed and happy, it's nice to be able to do the same for yourself without any effort at all.

Date Cooked: December 28, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

68. Kale and White Bean Soup (p. 108)

I've often heard TV chefs say that I should save the rinds of hard cheeses like Parmigiano-Reggiano to add to soup, but I've never seen a recipe that calls for a cheese rind. That was until I came across this recipe. Of course, I didn't have a left-over Parmigiano-Reggiano rind just sitting around when I decided to make this soup, so I had to cut the rind off a new piece of cheese.

A couple of things attracted me to this soup. First, there was the prospect of using a cheese rind (all right, I done talking about the cheese rind). Then, there's kale, which I love, and kielbasa, which is just delicious.

I almost passed this recipe by, however, when I saw that it called for dried beans. I wanted to make the soup that day, and I didn't have enough time to soak the beans overnight (who plans that far ahead?). So, I was searching on the internets to find a formula for converting canned beans for dried when I came across instructions for quick-soaking dried beans on page 267 of The Book. Problem solved!

This soup isn't too hard to make. Start by cooking some onions and garlic in a little oil. Then add the beans, chicken stock (my own!), water, cheese rind and herbs. Bring to a boil and simmer for just under an hour. Meanwhile, brown the kielbasa (I used turkey kielbasa). The Book says that it's optional ... I say it's required to give the soup some nice substance and a smoky, salty flavor. Add the kielbasa, carrots and kale to the soup and simmer a bit longer. That's it.

The Cook's Note in The Book, which says that the soup is best if made one to two days ahead, is right on the money. The soup was pretty good right after I made it, but it got better and better as I had the leftovers for lunch over the next couple of days. The flavors came together nicely as the soup rested in the refrigerator.

File this soup recipe away for a snowy day in February. It'll warm you right up.

Date Cooked: October 26, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: (immediately after cooking) B; (leftovers) A

56. Creamless Creamy Squash Soup (p. 99)

Last spring, I was obsessed with Bravo's Top Chef. And my favorite contestant, the hat-wearing, foul-mouthed Spike Mendelsohn, had an obsession of his own ... butternut squash soup. (I'm not kidding, watch the video montage below. Spike said "butternut squash soup" at least a dozen times in a single episode.) Ever since then, I've been waiting for butternuts to come into season so that I could satisfy my craving for squash soup. Well, at long last, fall is here and beautiful butternut squash (squashes?) are plentiful at the farmer's market, and I didn't waste any time getting one.

Even though this recipe from The Book is a lot less complicated than Spike's recipe, it's anything but boring. For starters, the recipe's name, "Creamless Creamy Squash Soup," lets you know right away that the folks at Gourmet have something up their sleeves. The creaminess in this "creamless" soup comes from the addition of potatoes which are slow-cooked, and pureed with the squash to give the soup a silky, smooth texture without a drop of cream. Other tricks include the addition of red pepper flakes, which gives the soup an unexpected kick of spiciness, and the unusual garnish of crushed Italian amaretto cookies, which, along with the drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil, gives this comfort-food soup an air of sophistication that would make it at home at a four-star restaurant.


ICYMI: Butternut Squash Soup


Date Cooked: September 21, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

27. Watermelon Gazpacho (p. 89)

Recipes like this are what The Project is all about. This is the type of recipe that I might come across while flipping through a cookbook and say, "Watermelon Gazpacho?" and keep on flipping. But, since one of the goals of The Project is "to learn new things and try new foods," I gave this recipe a little more consideration. And since another one of the goals of The Project is to cook every recipe in The Book, I have to make this sometime, and with watermelons in season and cheap (44 cents a pound!) there's no time like the present.

The Book's blurb about this soup suggests that if you served it to your guests without telling them what it is, they'd never be able to guess. I didn't test this theory (My wife knew exactly what I was making, and nevertheless gamely gave it a try. Thanks, for being a good sport, Sweetie.) but I'm sure that it would work. The soup looks a lot like tomato bisque, and vaguely tastes like it, too. With the exception of the diced watermelon garnish, there's nothing fruity or sweet about this soup.

This recipe is not at all difficult, but it isn't quick either, and your blender gets quite a workout. First, you cut the flesh of a four-pound watermelon into chunks. Then you puree the chunks in the blender (reserving a cup of the flesh for the garnish) and strain the juice. The remaining ingredients (a pretty eclectic and unusual collection including whole almonds, white sandwich bread, garlic, ice cubes, and oil) are all blended with the juice to make the soup. There was way too much liquid for my blender to handle all at once, so I had to do this in batches.

The word to describe this soup is "interesting." (What a great word! Do I mean "interesting good" or "interesting bad"? The truth is that I'm not really sure, which means that this soup really and truly is "interesting.") With the exception of the garlic (more on that in a second), all of the flavors of the components of this soup disappear and meld into a completely new savory flavor that you can't quite place. There is no perceptible watermelon or almond flavor at all. The dominant flavor in this soup was garlic, which is unfortunate, but I find that's usually the case with recipes that call for raw garlic. Even when I use less garlic than called for (I used two cloves here rather than the three that The Book uses), the raw garlic simply overtakes a dish like a bully in a schoolyard. The texture of the soup is nice. It's thick and creamy (even though there's no cream). The ground almonds, however, make the soup, which is otherwise silky and smooth, a little bit grainy. The sweet and crisp diced watermelon garnish was a nice contrast in texture and flavor.

I think that this soup is meant to be eaten all at once. I had some leftover soup for lunch a couple of days later and the garlic flavor had intensified to the point of leaving a burning sensation on my tongue. (Don't get me wrong, I love garlic, but this was just too much). And even though I stirred it well before eating, the bread and almond particles had fallen irretrievably out of the suspension and there was an odd and unappetizing sludge at the bottom of the bowl.

I'm glad that I made this soup, and I enjoyed eating it, but I won't be making it again.

Date Cooked: July 20, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: C

19. Mango-Spacho (p. 90)

With the nation still in the grip of tomato terror, I've been deprived of one of my favorite summertime meals: Gazpacho. So, I was thrilled to see this tomato-free version while flipping through The Book. We ate this on Sunday, and of course, as luck would have it, the news on Monday morning reported that two of the other ingredients in this dish have been added to the salmonella watchlist: chiles and cilantro. Oh well, we somehow managed to avoid any problems despite the high-risk ingredients.

The ingredient list is long (see the photo of my mise below), but the preparation is a snap. Just throw it all in a bowl and chill.

This recipe changes up your typical gazpacho by replacing the tomatoes and tomato juice with mango and mango nectar. The other usual ingredients are all there, like cucumber, scallions and garlic, along with a couple of nice additions like fresh corn and roasted red peppers. The Book calls for half of a jalepeno and half of a serrano. But, I used the one and only serrano that Stop and Shop had in the Charred Tomatillo Guacamole. The jalepeno gave just the right amount of heat on its own, though.

The result is an excellent, refreshing summer soup. Very delicious, and I liked it a lot. The texture has a nice contrast of the silky mango and the crisp cucumber and corn. The sweetness of the mango is balanced by the acid of the citrus juice and the bite of the jalepeno. This is a sweeter soup, but it's not too fruity or at all desserty. We made this as a light dinner, but I was a little dissapointed because it just wasn't quite substantial enough. It would have been great as a first course before grilled chicken or fish, but on its own, it left me a little unsatisfied. I should have known better, though, because as Kenny Bania said in the classic Seinfeld episode, "Soup's not a meal."

Finally, if I were to make this agian, I'd probably double the recipe. As I mentioned above, there's a long list of ingredients, and the recipe only calls for a little of everything (half of a jalepeno, less than half of a can of mango nectar, a small amount of roasted red peppers). If I'm going to go through the trouble of preparing all of these ingredients, I might as well make a big batch and have some leftovers to take for luch during the week.

Date Cooked: July 5, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-