| Beyond What A Leek Looks Like | |
by Judy Sobeloff, from the March 2004 newsletter
I’d never been up close to a leek before, but Dani, Co-op produce manager, immediately put me at ease.
“Someone [else] who shops here all the time just came in and bought their first leek,” she said. I wasn’t alone.
I’d thought about buying my first leek months before, but had been put off by the cookbook picture of a leek with its leaves splayed out in an elaborate weave, and the seemingly extensive preparation instructions. No way, I thought, I have enough unfinished craft projects gathering dust already. Now, though, standing beside actual leeks, I was amazed to discover that what I’d taken to be the result of a difficult slicing and leaf-arranging task on the part of the cook was actually the leek itself, au naturel. The leek, fresh out of the ground, couldn’t help its intimidating elegance.
According to cookbook author Charles Wright, leeks have been around since at least 3200 BC, when the ancient Egyptians used them both as food and medicine. Aristotle thought the partridge got its singing voice from eating leeks, writes Peggy Trowbridge, and Emperor Nero ate leek soup daily to make his voice pleasing for orations. During the Middle Ages, Wright notes, “Leeks were believed to be an erotic stimulant that increased the sperm count and stimulated desire.”
Currently, Britain awards an annual prize to the largest leek according to Trowbridge, who also describes the leek as a “scallion on steroids.” True, leeks are jumbo, but I think more apt is assistant produce manager Stacey’s description of a leek as “the opposite of a scallion, because you use the white rather than the green.”
Both Stacey and Dani mentioned an Asian customer who was upset by the waste of the green leaves which he said were the best part, when he saw they had to trim off half the green part just to fit the leeks into the produce section. (Leeks can grow up to six feet tall, and the Co-op’s leeks are large.)
Unfortunately I didn’t find a recipe which uses the dark green leaves. The New Basics cookbook says to “save the light green part for stocks or use them in place of sautéed onions,” and Trowbridge says “the dark green trimmed leaves can be reserved for other uses,” but doesn’t specify what these “other uses” might be.
Onward then, to making Vichyssoise, or cold potato-leek soup, which I read was the best-known use of leeks.
I found the taste of Vichyssoise simple and good, devoid of expected pretensions. My mom, who normally doesn’t like anything spicier than plain tofu, thought the vichyssoise “could use more zap,” whereas Fred, who likes to guzzle hot sauce, thought it was perfect as is. Go figure. Jonna, age two, spread her soup out over the table with her spoon, declaring, “I makin’ a mess!” The next night we added a little extra salt, and all of us liked it even more.
VICHYSSOISE—Chilled Leek And Potato Soup (from Julia Child, The Way to Cook)
4 cups sliced leeks, white part only
4 cups diced potatoes
6 to 7 cups water
1-1/2 to 2 tsp. salt or to taste
1/2 cup or more sour cream, heavy cream, or creme fraiche (optional)
1 Tbsp. fresh chives or parsley, minced
Bring the leeks, potatoes, and water to a boil in a saucepan. Salt lightly, cover partially, and simmer 20-30 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender. Purée the soup if you wish. Stir in the cream, if you chose to use it, while the soup is warm. Taste and correct seasoning. After chilling the soup, you may wish to stir in a little more cream. Top each serving with a sprinkle of chives or parsley.
REFERENCES
Bittman, Mark. How to Cook Everything. New York: Macmillan, 1998.
Rosso, Julee and Sheila Lukins. The New Basics. New York: Workman, 1989.
Trowbridge, Peggy. http://homecooking.about.com/library/weekly/aa040901a.htm
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