Chilled Sorrel and Potato Soup

February 12, 2002

We have just begun that dreaded journey into stress territory - selling our house. We spent the weekend doing the grand clean-up. Fortunately as we've been here just under two years, it wasn't an insurmountable task. So far only one carload to the tip.

Having just landscaped a fair part of the section and had a good garden cleanout recently, there wasn't too much to do in that department either, apart from planting a bit of spot colour, pulling out a few weeds and filling the gaps with the odd annuals.

I like these entrepreneurial types who set up useful little businesses like taking down, cleaning and re-hanging drapes, doing a thorough spring-clean and so on. They help moving people retain their sanity.

There's a lot to be learned from house cleaners. Over the years in Wellington I had three different women who cleaned my house, one handing on the job to the next. They were all nurses and all wonderful. It was a treat to come home on a Friday night and find the place spotless and smelling sweet. They each worked quickly and efficiently and the whole house was clean at one time.

I work on the random method - a bit of cleaning here, a bit there, this room today, the floors tomorrow. And our beloved cat follows around dropping bits of his long black coat everywhere.

Anyway, I spent most of the weekend beavering away at the little jobs that needed to be done before the land agents' photographer came to take pictures for the marketing plan.

While I was hoeing the new herb garden, I decided to pick some of the flourishing sorrel to make some sorrel soup.

Things all went according to plan until I reached the stage of blending the soup. Instead of using my usual food processor, I decided to use the blender that was already sitting on the bench. That was the first big mistake. The second was putting in too much of the hot soup. I have only myself to blame. I was expecting a bit of pressure to build up in the goblet so I was holding the lid on with my hand. I had the presence of mind to keep holding it more or less on while a stream of soup flung itself out from under the lid and I groped for the off button. The nearby walls turned a rather interesting shade of mottled pale green. So did my blouse. I peeled it off, grabbed a freshly laundered one from the clothes basket and proceeded to wipe down the walls, microwave, benches, fruit bowl etc.

I eventually removed all the evidence, just as The Spouse walked in from playing lawn bowls. We chatted for a while about his successful afternoon. It wasn't till a few minutes later I walked past the hall mirror and discovered I had pulled my blouse on inside out and the shoulder pads were poking up like little wings.

The Spouse had obviously not looked too closely at me during our conversation. I was relieved I hadn't gone to the supermarket looking like that.

Anyway, the soup turned out a success, a lovely avocado green with a hint of the sorrel's acidity.

Chilled Sorrel and Potato Soup

1 medium onion
light olive oil
3 medium floury potatoes
a couple of handfuls of fresh sorrel leaves (1)
1 litre chicken stock (stock powder and water is OK)
fresh herbs (oregano, thyme,parsley, chives) finely chopped
150ml milk
plain unsweetened yoghurt
chives

Peel and slice the potatoes. Finely dice the onion. Heat the oil and gently saute the onion and potatoes over a medium heat until the onions are softened and translucent. Add the washed sorrel (2) and allow to sweat for three or four minutes. Add the herbs and stock and simmer for about 20 minutes until the potatoes are cooked.

Add the milk and cook a further minute or two, checking the seasoning and adding salt if necessary. As this is a chilled soup, you may need some extra salt so it is not too bland when it has cooled down.

Whirl in a food processor (taking care not to redecorate your kitchen!) and then pass through a sieve to remove any stringy stalky bits. Chill.

To serve, spoon into soup plates, pour some yoghurt artistically in a stream over the top and mist with finely chopped chives (3).

Just lovely on a summer's evening. Or the soup can be served hot if it's winter in your part of the world.

 

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