I know mid-August is not the typical time to post a soup recipe, but I am craving vegetables and simplicity, and this soup is that.
There’s something extremely comforting about carrot soup – and despite the heat, I find I am still in need of comfort these days. My mom used to make a carrot soup like this when I was young that I always loved – first she used cream, and then silken tofu. Neither of those appealed to me this week, so I used coconut milk and it was perfect.
The texture is velvet. The taste is intensely carrot – that sweet and savory double-agent identity. The carrot and thyme just punctuate it lightly to say, this soup is interesting. I love to dunk good brown bread in as I spoon it, fully of coarsely ground black pepper.
The great thing about this version of the soup is I streamlined it down to a five-minute hands-on activity. Throw the shallots into a pot, follow one minute later with carrots and broth. And walk away. Forty-five minutes later, toss the soft carrots and soup into a blender with the thyme and coconut milk. Whiz up and eat straight from the blender with a spoon, standing up in the kitchen – which is what I did.
Creamy Carrot Soup with Coconut and Thyme
serves 4 to 6
INGREDIENTS
- 1 tablespoon of grapeseed oil, or other neutral oil
- 1 large shallot, chopped
- 2 pounds of organic carrots (so you don’t have to peel them), topped and tailed, and cut into chunks
- 1 quart of low-sodium vegetable broth
- The leaves from 2 stems of fresh thyme
- 1 14.5-ounce can of coconut milk
METHOD
Heat the oil in a large stock pot over medium heat. Add the shallots and cook until just translucent – 1 to 2 minutes. Add the carrots and the broth, season lightly with salt and pepper, cover, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 45 minutes, until the carrots are very tender.
Pour the soup into the blender with the thyme and coconut milk. Put the lid on the blender, and take out the center little cover (the soup is very hot and the steam could cause issues if you don’t do this). Place a folded paper towel over the opening, and then a dish towel over that (trust me!). Then, whiz on the highest speed until velvety smooth. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper as needed.
One of the most strident sensory memories from my childhood is of spending scalding summers in Woodstock, NY, sitting on the back porch and eating pasta. My mom and I would drive back to the city every week or two to go to Fairways on the Upper West Side (incorrigible city folks; because there was no grocery store upstate?). I would wander the aisles, smelling the rinds of the cheeses through their wrappers, the brine of the olives in their open buckets, the scented coffees, and I seem to remember semolina on the floor, but that could be a little garnish added by memory. Did we nip down to Soho to stop at 
Sometimes, you need a ray of sunshine to break through the clouds. Not everyone gets that from a recipe, but I do, and I imagine that other like me exist. Lemons are sunshine to me – the sunny, happy color; the bright, exuberant flavor; the unapologetic enthusiasm of its sweet-tart starburst juice. I love lemons.
For a long time, I thought if I wanted to eat ribs, I needed to go to a barbecue place – or Houston’s, where they are delicious. If I wanted to make them at home, I would need a barbecue, or a smoker, or forty-five ingredients to make a sauce. Turns out, not so.
When we were in full lockdown, doing full-time work and full-time childcare, and life was – full to say the least – I came up with this recipe for a quick and healthy lunch using what I had stocked from my emergency pantry shopping: frozen vegetables, canned coconut milk, and jarred Thai curry paste.
Lately, I have been getting into a rhythm. Maybe because everything is the same. My apartment. My patterns. My schedule. Sheltering in place, I have discovered, doesn’t lead to a lot of serendipity, spontaneity, or rushing distractions.
Let me just disclaim that there is NOTHING authentic about this guacamole, but it’s ADDICTIVE.
