SOUPS
This recipe is inspired by the beans and soup my good friend Libby Lyon posted about the other day on her Instagram. She slowly simmered her beans with a few generous glugs of olive oil, herb stems, garlic, lemon, salt, and pepper.
Nothing is ever for certain in the world of medicine. I’ve learned this truth in the way doctors shy away from definitive answers and conclusions. I’ve learned it after countless letdowns. Weeks worth of hopeful wishing and planning out the window, now leaving me with Plan B, C and other letters I haven’t accounted for. I’ve learned all of this to then forget it and be disappointed when things don’t work out as hoped.
Whenever I tell others that I’m Russian, I often find myself responding to the same old stereotypes: cold, harsh winters, burly men knocking back shots of vodka, and a penchant for “that soup with the beets.”
If I had to choose one dish that embodied home for me it is my mother’s borscht, a traditional Eastern European beet soup. There is nothing like sitting down to a piping hot bowl of it, a dollop of thick sour cream slowly swirled in, and for the heck of it, another dollop (or two) smeared on a hearty chunk of bread. Just looking at its gemstone color warms my soul, but one bite—spicy, sweet, sour, rich and creamy—fills me with all sorts of cozy, comforting feelings.
SALADS
Today I went to the grocery store in hopes to get ingredients for marinated French lentils with arugula and chevre. Well, the whole bulk bin section being what it is these days, French lentils and black (both which are delicious and hold their shape well) were out of stock. Luckily, there was plenty ol' plain green - not split pea, mind you- so... we improvise.
This Curried Sweet Potato, Chickpea, and Avocado Salad has been on the menu at my house every week for the past few years.
This gorgeous kale and brussels sprouts salad spotlights all my favorite wintery foods and is light and refreshing as it is hearty and satisfying. Talk about nourishing!
MAINS
I originally wrote this recipe for Culture Magazine and Cypress Grove, using the creamery’s Sgt. Pepper chevre. Although a bit untraditional, the fluffy goat’s cheese adds an added kick of harissa and spice—along with a creamy tang—to the classic Middle Eastern dish. Feel free to swap it out for any chevre or sheep’s milk feta you have on hand.
A few years ago, I developed this creamy lemony asparagus soup topped with Cypress Grover Humboldt Fog for Culture magazine. Ever since, I’ve been making it each spring. All you really need is a couple of asparagus bunches, an onion and potato, a handful of parsley, some garlic, and lemon. Everything else—the thyme, veggie stock, cream, and vermouth— are extra, but do make the soup sing. Wedges of ash-lined, soft-ripened humboldt fog make for a fun garnish that add tang and creaminess, but can be easily substituted for any soft, fresh or aged goat cheese.
Barely set eggs nestled into a spicy, chunky tomato sauce, topped with fresh herbs and creamy (or melty!) cheese. All mopped up with some good hearty bread. Bonus points if you’ve got a nice bottle of red to wash it down.
This recipe is inspired by the beans and soup my good friend Libby Lyon posted about the other day on her Instagram. She slowly simmered her beans with a few generous glugs of olive oil, herb stems, garlic, lemon, salt, and pepper.
Imeruli khachapuri hails, not surprisingly, from the central region of Imereti and it’s essentially a flat bread stuffed with buttery Imeruli cheese curds and cooked on the stovetop. While adajruli’s dough is closer to that of pizza’s - with a satisfying crackle when you break off a piece - imeruli’s is soft, tender, and melts in your mouth.
I’ve you’ve been following me a while - especially on my Instagram - you know that I love galettes. So much so, that I even waxed poetic about them once for the Washington Post. Make your dough, roll it out, and fill it with whatever inspires you (or happens to be wilting away in the crisper drawer…).
I’ve adapted the recipe to whatever melty cheese you might have in the fridge. A sharp cheddar, gruyere, gouda, raclette… all work well here. I can imagine this would also be delicious with broccoli and onions, cumin and red pepper flakes substituted for the thyme and nutmeg. Sounds delicious, right?
Today I went to the grocery store in hopes to get ingredients for marinated French lentils with arugula and chevre. Well, the whole bulk bin section being what it is these days, French lentils and black (both which are delicious and hold their shape well) were out of stock. Luckily, there was plenty ol' plain green - not split pea, mind you- so... we improvise.
This Curried Sweet Potato, Chickpea, and Avocado Salad has been on the menu at my house every week for the past few years.
This gorgeous kale and brussels sprouts salad spotlights all my favorite wintery foods and is light and refreshing as it is hearty and satisfying. Talk about nourishing!
In February, I wrote Everything You Need to Know about Khachapuri for Culture magazine. I talked a little bit about its story and the culture that surrounds it (did you know the Georgians even have a Khachapuri Index to gauge inflation?) and listed a few of my favorite versions. I also promised you all a recipe for the Insta-famous Adjarian cheese boat, but deadlines and travel plans (aka Life) got in the way, and now here I am a month later finally addressing it.
Lobio is a hearty, yet good-for-you Georgian bean stew chock-full of earthy spices and vibrant herbs that is traditionally served with cornbread.
An epic journey through the Georgian Military highway inspires years of perfecting the culinary art of khinkali.
To my readers and those who reached out to me after last week’s post, thank you. Thank you for making me feel heard. When I write a blog post (and I don’t mean to sound self-deprecating), my expectations for anyone to actually read it is quite low. Who has time these days, I think, to do more than scroll through the pretty pictures of food? Putting my feelings and thoughts to paper is catharsis enough, but to realize I have an actual audience for them is truly…moving and heartening. Many were quick to point out that bravery isn’t simply weathering the bad things in life, but more how we choose to respond to them. Whether I feel brave on a day-to-day basis or not, I’m glad I’ve chosen to write about this phase of my life— if only because you all know how to make a girl feel loved and cared for. Again, thank you!!
Nothing is ever for certain in the world of medicine. I’ve learned this truth in the way doctors shy away from definitive answers and conclusions. I’ve learned it after countless letdowns. Weeks worth of hopeful wishing and planning out the window, now leaving me with Plan B, C and other letters I haven’t accounted for. I’ve learned all of this to then forget it and be disappointed when things don’t work out as hoped.
A question I often receive is “How do you make all this delicious food and still say thin?”. I wish I could just pin it on a lightening-fast metabolism, but unfortunately that’s not the case. The reality is that my relationship with food has had its ups and downs over the years, but only recently have I felt like I’ve started (keyword here) to achieve a healthy balance.
Whenever I tell others that I’m Russian, I often find myself responding to the same old stereotypes: cold, harsh winters, burly men knocking back shots of vodka, and a penchant for “that soup with the beets.”
Beep beep beep—ah, finally. You open the oven door to find your little roasted chicken inside, a perfect 165°. You set it on the counter top and give it a rest. Perfumes of lemon and sage fill your kitchen, triggering loud growls from your stomach, but you find ways to distract. Maybe you toast a chunk of bread or pour yourself a glass of wine, but you don’t bother with setting the table—you know perfectly well where this is going. The chicken should probably be given a few more minutes, but come on, hasn’t it rested enough already? You walk over, eying your poultry prize. There’s a moment pause, and then you dive right in. Pull off a wing here, a chunk of breast there. Crunchy, golden skin gives way to tender, supple meat, and ooh, yes, let’s mop up some of those pan drippings for good measure too. To eat with your hands is like choosing your own adventure, picking away until you reach the most rewarding and succulent bites. It’s all fun and Game-of-Thrones like, until you realize you’ve eaten way more bird than appropriate and you’ve got a hefty pile of bones to show for it. Whoops.
It’s been a little over three months since my accident and after spending most of that time with family in Rhode Island recovering, I’ve finally returned to Charlottesville—my other home of the past six and a half years. I’ve quickly realized, though, that my life here is no longer quite the same and the experience has reminded me of something the narrator says in the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: “It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed, is you.”
In my last post I talked about summer’s generous bounty—how do you take full advantage of it?? It’s a bit tough, I have to admit—not only is there so much variety in produce available, but there’s also the sheer abundance of it too. At work, as a baker, I can’t seem to make enough pies, buckles, coffee cakes to keep up with all the peaches and nectarines that need to be made use of. Outside of work, I can’t seem to keep up with my impulse buying of heirloom eggplants, tomatoes and peppers at the farmer’s market. How can I resist when they’re all seeming to say, “Buy me before the season is over!!”
Birthdays are an interesting thing. Of course as a little kid, birthdays were the best day of the year—you are the birthday prince or princess and anything you say or want, goes. But as you grow older, things change. The day looses its luster for some and then others find that they’re better off without the yearly reminder that time is ticking away. Most likely the hedonist in me, I’ve always loved birthdays. Not only is it an excuse to eat, drink, and be all sorts of merry, but it’s also an occasion to bring together the people in your life to do so. And even when it’s not your birthday you’re celebrating, you can do what I did as a 4-year old and pout in the corner until you get a present too. Sorry, Mom.
If I had to choose one dish that embodied home for me it is my mother’s borscht, a traditional Eastern European beet soup. There is nothing like sitting down to a piping hot bowl of it, a dollop of thick sour cream slowly swirled in, and for the heck of it, another dollop (or two) smeared on a hearty chunk of bread. Just looking at its gemstone color warms my soul, but one bite—spicy, sweet, sour, rich and creamy—fills me with all sorts of cozy, comforting feelings.
SIDES
Imeruli khachapuri hails, not surprisingly, from the central region of Imereti and it’s essentially a flat bread stuffed with buttery Imeruli cheese curds and cooked on the stovetop. While adajruli’s dough is closer to that of pizza’s - with a satisfying crackle when you break off a piece - imeruli’s is soft, tender, and melts in your mouth.
I’ve you’ve been following me a while - especially on my Instagram - you know that I love galettes. So much so, that I even waxed poetic about them once for the Washington Post. Make your dough, roll it out, and fill it with whatever inspires you (or happens to be wilting away in the crisper drawer…).
I’ve adapted the recipe to whatever melty cheese you might have in the fridge. A sharp cheddar, gruyere, gouda, raclette… all work well here. I can imagine this would also be delicious with broccoli and onions, cumin and red pepper flakes substituted for the thyme and nutmeg. Sounds delicious, right?
Golden crispy roasted potatoes! What's my secret? Well, I’m not the first to come up with this idea, but parboiling my potatoes before I roast them- a bit of a hassle, yes, but worth it- helps them cook evenly so that when they come out of the oven, the exterior is golden and crispy, while the interior is soft and velvety. They never fail to impress.
This gorgeous kale and brussels sprouts salad spotlights all my favorite wintery foods and is light and refreshing as it is hearty and satisfying. Talk about nourishing!
A question I often receive is “How do you make all this delicious food and still say thin?”. I wish I could just pin it on a lightening-fast metabolism, but unfortunately that’s not the case. The reality is that my relationship with food has had its ups and downs over the years, but only recently have I felt like I’ve started (keyword here) to achieve a healthy balance.
The power of food—to transcend boundaries, both geographical and cultural, and unify—has been the main idea behind Chesnok. By focusing on the recipes that have allowed my own family to bond through the years, I have created a space, a virtual communal table if you will, where I too can forge a connection with others in my community and around the globe. This week marks exactly one year since I’ve started to share a little of my life and my family’s food heritage with you all and I’ve been rewarded with a warm and welcoming embrace. To know that others believe in me has gone, and will continue to go, an incredibly long way towards this passion project of mine.
It’s been a little over three months since my accident and after spending most of that time with family in Rhode Island recovering, I’ve finally returned to Charlottesville—my other home of the past six and a half years. I’ve quickly realized, though, that my life here is no longer quite the same and the experience has reminded me of something the narrator says in the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: “It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed, is you.”
In my last post I talked about summer’s generous bounty—how do you take full advantage of it?? It’s a bit tough, I have to admit—not only is there so much variety in produce available, but there’s also the sheer abundance of it too. At work, as a baker, I can’t seem to make enough pies, buckles, coffee cakes to keep up with all the peaches and nectarines that need to be made use of. Outside of work, I can’t seem to keep up with my impulse buying of heirloom eggplants, tomatoes and peppers at the farmer’s market. How can I resist when they’re all seeming to say, “Buy me before the season is over!!”
Nature is so generous to us this time of year that, presented with such an abundant bounty, I often find myself facing the same dilemma. Do I savor this piece of fruit or vegetable immediately, teeming with all the goodness and flavor of summer, or do I save it instead to cook with? If I practice a little restraint and go with the latter, I’m then left with another dilemma: how do I make the absolute best use of it?
GEORGIAN
Imeruli khachapuri hails, not surprisingly, from the central region of Imereti and it’s essentially a flat bread stuffed with buttery Imeruli cheese curds and cooked on the stovetop. While adajruli’s dough is closer to that of pizza’s - with a satisfying crackle when you break off a piece - imeruli’s is soft, tender, and melts in your mouth.
In February, I wrote Everything You Need to Know about Khachapuri for Culture magazine. I talked a little bit about its story and the culture that surrounds it (did you know the Georgians even have a Khachapuri Index to gauge inflation?) and listed a few of my favorite versions. I also promised you all a recipe for the Insta-famous Adjarian cheese boat, but deadlines and travel plans (aka Life) got in the way, and now here I am a month later finally addressing it.
Lobio is a hearty, yet good-for-you Georgian bean stew chock-full of earthy spices and vibrant herbs that is traditionally served with cornbread.
An epic journey through the Georgian Military highway inspires years of perfecting the culinary art of khinkali.
Beep beep beep—ah, finally. You open the oven door to find your little roasted chicken inside, a perfect 165°. You set it on the counter top and give it a rest. Perfumes of lemon and sage fill your kitchen, triggering loud growls from your stomach, but you find ways to distract. Maybe you toast a chunk of bread or pour yourself a glass of wine, but you don’t bother with setting the table—you know perfectly well where this is going. The chicken should probably be given a few more minutes, but come on, hasn’t it rested enough already? You walk over, eying your poultry prize. There’s a moment pause, and then you dive right in. Pull off a wing here, a chunk of breast there. Crunchy, golden skin gives way to tender, supple meat, and ooh, yes, let’s mop up some of those pan drippings for good measure too. To eat with your hands is like choosing your own adventure, picking away until you reach the most rewarding and succulent bites. It’s all fun and Game-of-Thrones like, until you realize you’ve eaten way more bird than appropriate and you’ve got a hefty pile of bones to show for it. Whoops.
The power of food—to transcend boundaries, both geographical and cultural, and unify—has been the main idea behind Chesnok. By focusing on the recipes that have allowed my own family to bond through the years, I have created a space, a virtual communal table if you will, where I too can forge a connection with others in my community and around the globe. This week marks exactly one year since I’ve started to share a little of my life and my family’s food heritage with you all and I’ve been rewarded with a warm and welcoming embrace. To know that others believe in me has gone, and will continue to go, an incredibly long way towards this passion project of mine.
Even though I grew up in a household where the family meal was always the main focal point of holidays and family gatherings, where eating out was once-a-year kind of occasion, my own passion in the kitchen, particularly for baking, didn’t really take hold until high school. Not really sure the exact moment it all clicked, but I do remember coming across what was then a nascent blogging world, being subsequently introduced to the likes of smittenkitchen, David Leibovitz, and Joy the Baker. All of a sudden, obsessing over my RSS feed—making sure I was up to date on all my 20+ blogs— was my new and favorite source of procrastination. This was also around the same time that my usual visits to the library also began to change in motive. I would go and emerge hours later carrying literal stacks of books—no longer of novels, but of cookbooks and the occasional food memoir.
In my last post I talked about summer’s generous bounty—how do you take full advantage of it?? It’s a bit tough, I have to admit—not only is there so much variety in produce available, but there’s also the sheer abundance of it too. At work, as a baker, I can’t seem to make enough pies, buckles, coffee cakes to keep up with all the peaches and nectarines that need to be made use of. Outside of work, I can’t seem to keep up with my impulse buying of heirloom eggplants, tomatoes and peppers at the farmer’s market. How can I resist when they’re all seeming to say, “Buy me before the season is over!!”
Nature is so generous to us this time of year that, presented with such an abundant bounty, I often find myself facing the same dilemma. Do I savor this piece of fruit or vegetable immediately, teeming with all the goodness and flavor of summer, or do I save it instead to cook with? If I practice a little restraint and go with the latter, I’m then left with another dilemma: how do I make the absolute best use of it?
In Tbilisi, the central marketplace is a city dweller’s link to the country. With two huge floors of stalls, not to mention the labyrinth of the outdoor market, you have an enchanting and exhilarating destination where vendors of every shape and size, from every part of the country, are unabashedly selling their wares. Counters are laden with farm-cured cheeses and meats, their sellers vying for attention and a chance to convince you their product is superior to all the rest. Rows of butchers wax poetic about their meat which, according to them, only that morning was still alive, grazing and sleeping in the meadows. Burlap sacks overflow with every nut, dried fruit, bean, and grain you can imagine, and barrels sit filled to the brim with pickles and marinades, hole heads of garlic soaking in verjuice or pomegranate juice.
Birthdays are an interesting thing. Of course as a little kid, birthdays were the best day of the year—you are the birthday prince or princess and anything you say or want, goes. But as you grow older, things change. The day looses its luster for some and then others find that they’re better off without the yearly reminder that time is ticking away. Most likely the hedonist in me, I’ve always loved birthdays. Not only is it an excuse to eat, drink, and be all sorts of merry, but it’s also an occasion to bring together the people in your life to do so. And even when it’s not your birthday you’re celebrating, you can do what I did as a 4-year old and pout in the corner until you get a present too. Sorry, Mom.
If I had to choose one dish that embodied home for me it is my mother’s borscht, a traditional Eastern European beet soup. There is nothing like sitting down to a piping hot bowl of it, a dollop of thick sour cream slowly swirled in, and for the heck of it, another dollop (or two) smeared on a hearty chunk of bread. Just looking at its gemstone color warms my soul, but one bite—spicy, sweet, sour, rich and creamy—fills me with all sorts of cozy, comforting feelings.
Hey all! As I've said in the past, the reason why I started this blog was to be able to share my heritage and all of its delicious recipes with you all. It's one thing to post pretty pictures and talk about these dishes, hoping that you will try them on your own at home. But nothing will ever beat being able to gather in the kitchen and working with one another to create a bountiful feast. Well, I am pleased to announce that we'll have the opportunity to do just that!
My lifetime of familiarity with the country of Georgia came full circle last year when my mother and I decided to make the 14+ hour journey to its ancient and rustic capital, Tbilisi. We flew from New York City to Istanbul, where we spent a few sultry days before boarding our midnight flight to Tbilisi Airport. A quirky place, the airport only comes alive in the wee hours of the night and dies down again at the first rays of sun. As we made our final descent, at the unfamiliar hour of 4am I may add, I found myself looking down at the quiet, twinkling city. The same city that my parents and I, a little babe at that point, flew out of exactly 23 years ago, never to return to until now.
RUSSIAN
Flaky layers of puff pastry are filled and topped with whipped pastry cream to make this classic Russian Napoleon. Plus a round up all my favorite desserts from the past year.
Light and tender sponge cake and baked apples combine the best of both worlds in this Russian Apple Sharlotka.
To my readers and those who reached out to me after last week’s post, thank you. Thank you for making me feel heard. When I write a blog post (and I don’t mean to sound self-deprecating), my expectations for anyone to actually read it is quite low. Who has time these days, I think, to do more than scroll through the pretty pictures of food? Putting my feelings and thoughts to paper is catharsis enough, but to realize I have an actual audience for them is truly…moving and heartening. Many were quick to point out that bravery isn’t simply weathering the bad things in life, but more how we choose to respond to them. Whether I feel brave on a day-to-day basis or not, I’m glad I’ve chosen to write about this phase of my life— if only because you all know how to make a girl feel loved and cared for. Again, thank you!!
Whenever I tell others that I’m Russian, I often find myself responding to the same old stereotypes: cold, harsh winters, burly men knocking back shots of vodka, and a penchant for “that soup with the beets.”
It’s been a little over three months since my accident and after spending most of that time with family in Rhode Island recovering, I’ve finally returned to Charlottesville—my other home of the past six and a half years. I’ve quickly realized, though, that my life here is no longer quite the same and the experience has reminded me of something the narrator says in the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: “It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed, is you.”
Many have asked how I keep myself busy and yes, I've been reading, binging-watching tv shows and keeping up with my favorite food blogs and websites. However, not as much as I’d initially have thought. The amount of mental energy that goes into thinking and worrying about my hand, the focus required for rehab exercises, the mental fog that comes from constant pain and its partner, pain meds, has left me surprisingly pretty unproductive.
If I had to choose one dish that embodied home for me it is my mother’s borscht, a traditional Eastern European beet soup. There is nothing like sitting down to a piping hot bowl of it, a dollop of thick sour cream slowly swirled in, and for the heck of it, another dollop (or two) smeared on a hearty chunk of bread. Just looking at its gemstone color warms my soul, but one bite—spicy, sweet, sour, rich and creamy—fills me with all sorts of cozy, comforting feelings.
When I call my mother to ask her for a family recipe, I always make sure to have a pen, paper, and at least a hour set aside for the conversation. You see, more times than not, there is no recipe—not one written down that is. These recipes, born in the Soviet Union and passed down from woman to woman over the years, have simply been put to memory and rely more on basic know-how and techniques than on rigid instructions.
DESSERTS
Light, flaky, with a hint of sweet, this Irish Soda Bread is made with pantry ingredients and perfect for breakfast or as a mid-day snack.
Flaky layers of puff pastry are filled and topped with whipped pastry cream to make this classic Russian Napoleon. Plus a round up all my favorite desserts from the past year.
Russians have a saying that the way you greet the year is the way you’ll spend it. As the first few moments of 2018 began to settle in, I decided I would have no problem if the maxim proved itself true this year. I was in London, my first visit to the storied city, and I had just shared a six-course, Michelin star meal with one of my best friends, Libby, at Fergus Henderson’s St. John. By the time the clock ticked midnight, we were already at the downstairs bar-turned-dance floor, sipping on Negronis, and meeting fellow guests from all parts of the globe. My heart felt full and my world big.
From the outside, my December probably looks like that of everyone else's: scouring stores and the internet for gifts, raking through stacks of cookbooks for recipes, attending holiday parties and dinners, and trying (keyword here) to balance said parties and dinners with smoothies and salads.
Light and tender sponge cake and baked apples combine the best of both worlds in this Russian Apple Sharlotka.
The other weekend, I traveled to NYC to meet with my dear friend Libby who is moving to London at the end of the summer. I think our initial instinct was to have "one last hoorah," but in the end I think we struck a good balance. Yes, there was a night where we may have indulged in too many bottles of sparkling wine, but we were just as happy to spend the next afternoon doing nothing else but rewatch the first season of Girls. Going out aside, we also had the chance to cook a few meals together, picnic in the park after a visit to the Union Square farmer’s market, and snack on world-famous chocolate chip cookies on our way to a memorable breakfast at Jack’s Wife Freda. In between meals, we visited an urban garden in Harlem, made it to a centennial Irving Penn photo exhibit at the Met, and, of course, strolled through Central Park—later returning for Shakespeare in the Park’s “A Midsummer’s Night Dream."
Many have asked how I keep myself busy and yes, I've been reading, binging-watching tv shows and keeping up with my favorite food blogs and websites. However, not as much as I’d initially have thought. The amount of mental energy that goes into thinking and worrying about my hand, the focus required for rehab exercises, the mental fog that comes from constant pain and its partner, pain meds, has left me surprisingly pretty unproductive.
Even though I grew up in a household where the family meal was always the main focal point of holidays and family gatherings, where eating out was once-a-year kind of occasion, my own passion in the kitchen, particularly for baking, didn’t really take hold until high school. Not really sure the exact moment it all clicked, but I do remember coming across what was then a nascent blogging world, being subsequently introduced to the likes of smittenkitchen, David Leibovitz, and Joy the Baker. All of a sudden, obsessing over my RSS feed—making sure I was up to date on all my 20+ blogs— was my new and favorite source of procrastination. This was also around the same time that my usual visits to the library also began to change in motive. I would go and emerge hours later carrying literal stacks of books—no longer of novels, but of cookbooks and the occasional food memoir.
When I call my mother to ask her for a family recipe, I always make sure to have a pen, paper, and at least a hour set aside for the conversation. You see, more times than not, there is no recipe—not one written down that is. These recipes, born in the Soviet Union and passed down from woman to woman over the years, have simply been put to memory and rely more on basic know-how and techniques than on rigid instructions.
A few years ago, I developed this creamy lemony asparagus soup topped with Cypress Grover Humboldt Fog for Culture magazine. Ever since, I’ve been making it each spring. All you really need is a couple of asparagus bunches, an onion and potato, a handful of parsley, some garlic, and lemon. Everything else—the thyme, veggie stock, cream, and vermouth— are extra, but do make the soup sing. Wedges of ash-lined, soft-ripened humboldt fog make for a fun garnish that add tang and creaminess, but can be easily substituted for any soft, fresh or aged goat cheese.