Soup Milling Days

I just made my second batch of Cauliflower soup, after a taste of the most divine creamiest soup at the spiffy restaurant TAXI, sandwiched between the bar TRANSIT and the pub TRANSPORT on the corner of Federation Square. It was so purely delicious, it was like it was cauliflower-flavoured cream with a hint of olive oil and nutmeg.

I made my first batch about a week ago – and what a bloody effort it was! I’d forgotten I had no blender or mixer to smooth out the soup, and quite frankly, there is a big difference between vegetable soup and vegetable puree. So I took the long step of force-straining cups of soup through a little plastic flour strainer, like those Japanese horsehair strainers that they made paste with. For all the effort it was, it was so delicious that it disappeared over only two days between my mother and I. I made zucchini and parmesan soup next, but it wasn’t a favourite of my mother, so I still have some frozen.

I decided to try making my second batch, having made fresh chicken stock the night before, and set about simmering a whole head of cauliflower and parsnips in the chicken stock. Hours later, it was done, and I used a new appliance that my sister had loaned to me – she’d heard about my soup making endeavours and loaned me an extra one. It looks like a vibrator, and you stick one end into the soup and buzzzzzzzz away. Tilt the soup vibrator the wrong way or too shallowly, and you get sprayed. Fun.

I completed the soup, and sampled it. It tasted… odd. Something was missing. I added lemon juice, more white pepper, more salt, even a boost of chicken stock powder, but it all just tasted strange… just odd, like it was one of those canned soups.

Then it hit me – the difference was in the technique! The slow force-straining with a wooden spoon flavoured the soup more than a soup vibrator that smelt of burnt rubber after I’d finished! Sheesh.

As my mother said after tasting the soup: it has lost its integrity…