Groningse Mustard Soup

Jar of Groninger MosterdBack in December one of my Facebook and Twitter friends — a birdwatcher from The Netherlands — posted that she was going to have Mustard Soup for lunch. After a bit of discussion where I expressed disbelief, then awe, she posted a recipe and when I wondered where to find Groninger Mustard she offered to send me a jar and I accepted (and offered to send her a local spice in exchange — she chose Old Bay seasoning).

Before too long I received not one, but two jars of Groninger Mustard and set them aside until after wrestling season when we could enjoy the fat and calories with Andrew.

One day, a couple of weeks ago I purchased the ingredients for the soup and followed a recipe I found online (I’d lost the link that my friend sent, but assumed all recipes would be similar).

I was sure that I was going to love this soup, it sounded so delicious (mustard, bacon, cream — what’s not to love?) and even took a series of photos while preparing it à la The Pioneer Woman.

I know enough about cooking to become concerned when I saw how much flour in relationship to how much fat was in the recipe — of course I didn’t throughly read the recipe before I was well into making the soup (that would have been the prudent thing to do) — but plowed ahead anyway. I also knew, as I was pouring in the cream that I had not cooked the roux enough and that the soup would taste floury.

Finished soupWhile the soup was lovely to look at, especially sprinkled with newly sprouted chives from our herb garden, it tasted more like it should have been the base for biscuits and gravy (a dish I dislike) instead of the delicate cream soup I’d envisioned.

I’m going to assume I used the wrong recipe and undercooked the roux and maybe try again sometime. We still have a jar and a half of Groninger Mustard left. I sent a FB message to my Dutch friend, asking her if it was supposed to be so thick, but she didn’t respond. She may have overlooked the message; she has a lot of friends. Either that or I insulted her by not liking the soup. Nah — Not Gwen.

Rupert Rising Bread

Rupert and Rupert Rising Bread

Rupert and Rupert Rising Bread

Sometime ago Indigo Bunting wrote a blog post that mentioned getting a sandwich on Rupert Rising Bread. Of course the name made me research it because of my Rupert and I hoped that someday I could taste some of this bread.

Before we headed out on our trip to the North East to visit colleges I did a few searches about Rupert Rising Bread. I found their website that said they provided bread to local restaurants and shops. I thought we might be able to make a detour to the town of Rupert (for photo opportunities as well as bread) but didn’t know if I could actually buy the bread at the bakery. While in Vermont I kept a keen eye out for signs of shops that sold the bread or made sandwiches out of it. I nearly asked the folks at Carol’s Hungry Mind Cafe if they knew where I could buy some in Middlebury but was a little too shy.

I was resigned to not get the treat of Rupert Rising Bread as we headed to Parts West to visit Indigo Bunting and Lali. I knew we would probably chat a while and would not have time to visit the town of Rupert, Vermont.

So I was surprised and delighted when Indigo Bunting mentioned that she’d bought us a loaf of Rupert Rising Bread (which then caused all kinds of chaos while Rupert was brought out to meet Indigo Bunting, Lali and the God Cod).

After we left Parts West we thought of how to best honor this loaf of bread. Indigo Bunting warned us that it should be eaten soon because it had no preservatives so about an hour after we left Parts West we all had a chunk of bread. It was delicious and made us think even harder about what to have it with when we got home.

Rupert and Rupert Rising Bread -- close-up

Rupert and Rupert Rising Bread -- close-up

I suggested Vichyssoise since it was quick, but then remembered we had no potatoes. Dean suggested canned soup. I thought it should have something other that lowly canned soup. I suggested spaghetti with “red sauce. Dean suggested spaghetti with clam sauce. This went on and on and when we got home we were not all that hungry anyway so our first real meal complimented by Rupert Rising Bread was bread and cheese and tomatoes.

The next day we planned a better meal — eggplant Parmesan. Dean and Andrew also made sandwiches with it. Tonight we have a few small pieces left and will use it to sop up extra cheese from our au gratin potatoes and gravy from the Easter ham.

It was a rare treat and hopefully someday we’ll get to taste it again.

Thanks, IB. It was well appreciated and not one crumb was wasted.

Porridge

[Note: I'm sure any steel-cut oatmeal is as good as the kind I had today -- I am not endorsing one brand over another. I just liked the can and this was my first taste of steel-cut oats. McCann's did not give me any free products. Or a free trip to Ireland. Honest.]

McCann's Steel-cut Irish Oatmeal

McCann's Steel-cut Irish Oatmeal

It took me years to actually like oatmeal, but when I did learn to like it — I really did. At first, and for years, the only oatmeal I’d eat was the instant, flavored kind — especially the apples and cinnamon flavor. Then, probably after having oatmeal at bed and breakfasts, I’d occasionally make, what I thought to be “real” oatmeal — the kind you cook for a while on the stove — or in the microwave, I believe Quaker calls it “Old Fashioned Oats”. I found that if I put brown sugar in it I could eat it.

Our kids, especially our daughter, liked oatmeal — and called it “porridge” — probably because my husband or I called it that to make them want to eat it — it sounded like something out of an old-time story.

While my husband continued to eat oatmeal in the mornings, I quit eating breakfast altogether, except for the occasional container of yogurt.

Recently, however, I had coffee with a friend at Starbucks. Well, she had coffee, I had orange juice and some of their oatmeal. I’d had it before, and always felt it tasted better at Starbucks (probably because I was overpaying there). My friend said that there were various grades of oatmeal — and some tasted better than others. She said she thought that the oatmeal I was used to was pre-cooked — that was why it was flat. I always assumed that oats were flat. She said that she and her husband ate steel-cut oatmeal. I’d heard of it, but had never tried it. It sounded too wholesome for me.

So the other day I was at Giant and thought I’d give steel-cut oatmeal a try. I found a brand of oatmeal I’d eaten before — McCann’s Irish Oatmeal. The can itself was worth the price. It is all old-fashioned looking and boasted of winning a prize at the World Colombian Exhibition — an event that I’m obsessed with. I figured that if we didn’t like the oats, at least we’d get a cool looking tin out of it.

This morning I followed the directions and made a serving of oatmeal. The oats looked so different from what I thought oats looked like — they were like very small pebbles instead of like thick pieces of taupe confetti. I understood what my friend meant about the other oatmeal being pre-cooked.

Cooking the oatmeal took a long time — more than a half hour. I wondered if there might be a quicker way to make this and thought I’d check online. Once the oatmeal was ready to eat, I felt that the time involved was worth it. The taste is much more intense than that of regular oatmeal. All I added was a sprinkling of dried fruit and a dollop of Greek yogurt.

Delicious.