(Inspired by the“Preface,” p. x, Cornfields to Codfish)
Over a decade ago, our family went from all adults – my parents, me and my three siblings, plus our spouses – to a lively family with seven grandkids.
For many years, we celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. All afternoon, Mom would be at the helm in the kitchen making a wonderful roasted turkey, beef, or ham dinner. We would eat, then wash dishes and pans and china and dessert bowls and more pans. Then, we would put to soak the scalloped corn pan and the roaster. When the grandkids came along, all of this washing took place while they hovered like hungry beasts – despite having just eaten – asking when we were going to open Christmas presents.
Now that there are seventeen of us, there are more holiday schedules to consider. Fortunately, Mom and Dad say they don’t mind when we celebrate Christmas, just that they want us all together at some point. We approached the food the same way: We needed a meal, but did it need to be the traditional Christmas dinner?
We landed on the idea of a soup supper that involves far fewer pans to wash up after we eat. Now those traveling to Mom and Dad’s that day contribute in a smorgasbord fashion, bringing shrimp cocktail, deviled eggs, homemade pies, and rolls for dipping in the soups.
Usually Mom, my sister, and I make the soups: chili, oyster stew, and potato chowder. I introduced Terese Allen’s Irish Potato Chowder the first year of the soup supper. Since then, I have occasionally wondered if I should switch it out – if after a decade, perhaps people are tired of it. Yet every year before I even step foot on a plane at Logan bound for the Midwest, my brother and I have the same phone conversation. “Hey, Linda, about Christmas. . . . Are you doing that potato soup this year?” I hear the want in his voice. “Yup!”
I like to make a double batch of potato chowder the day before our Christmas celebration. Like many other soups, this one tastes even more delicious if the flavors are left to meld a day before serving it. When the chowder is done, I transfer it to a Crock-Pot to free up the pan for the next soup; then I stash the covered Crock-Pot in the van outside overnight – a benefit of winter in Iowa – so as not to take up fridge space. The next morning, about seven hours before we eat, I bring it in and let it set for an hour or so to get over the deep-freeze chill. Then I turn the Crock-Pot on high to reheat. Once it’s heated through, I turn the temperature to low and let it hold there until we eat.
This layered creation has become one of the smells I now associate with Christmas. Some soup recipes are all-ingredients-in-the pan, stir, and forget it. This dish comes together in sweet layers of time and patience, beginning with the mingling of vegetables and herbs in the deep well of the stockpot and followed by the release of a meandering bouquet up those steep metal walls.
I follow this recipe to the letter, for the creator, Terese Allen, has it refined to perfection. We keep the basil, parsley, chives, and ground white pepper in an “Irish Potato Chowder”–labeled baggie in Mom’s pantry so they are at hand in December, making it easy to check inventory before cooking. Don’t be afraid of the word roux or the hot pepper sauce. The roux is easy- peasy and beautifully golden brown when it comes off the heat. As for the hot pepper sauce, in this big of a batch of chowder, it does not make the chowder spicy; rather, it makes people think, Hmm, there’s something in here I can’t quite put my finger on. That little ingredient works the same as the last splash of cream in Mushroom Risotto and the final pat of butter in the sauce for Swordfish with Tomatoes and Capers.
Recipe for Irish Potato Chowder reprinted with permission from The Ovens of Brittany Cookbook by Terese Allen (Amherst Press, 1991).