Ash Wednesday Soup Recipe
Making the case for typing Lenten recipes on index cards, and sharing what I make with others here and letters sent near and far.
It’s the beginning of Lent. It’s been raining on and off all morning; the sky is grey, areas closer to the lake are foggier. Even so, people across the city have a bounce in their steps as they hunker under their umbrellas, jacket hoods or in my case, a wool scarf doubling as a head cover.
We were all headed some place important.
Seven o’clock Mass at Old St. Mary’s Church in downtown Milwaukee was full. The mood was somber. We were all here primarily for one thing: ashes. Sure, some of us will receive also receive communion, but we here to remember that one day soon will die. The ashes are a reminder of our mortality, the one day our bodies will be ashes (especially true for those of us who chose cremation).
Since Lent is the beginning of Lent, Ash Wednesday is also a time of penance, prayer and reflection. All Catholics who are healthy (and there are exclusions aplenty here) are supposed to fast and abstain from meat today. You could read on up the technicalities of Catholic fasting and abstinence on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. I won’t bore you with that. I actually don’t have to fast and abstain but I choose to because I’m healthy and at the end of the day, I want to be hungry for more than a just a slice of pizza loaded with extra pepperoni and sausage or a medium-well burger with a sliver of roasted jalapeño and a slice of pepper jack cheese. I want to have the fullness in spirit equivalent to eating a burger, pizza with a glass of moscato, a pint of blueberry-flavored stout or a margarita with extra salt on the rim.
Honestly, abstinence and fasting is challenging. I become cranky fast and suddenly, barely an hour or two into the day, my diet for the day is off the rails, headed for a crash in the maple woods.
This year, I resolve to do differently. As I roamed the grocery aisle this morning, I thought, what if I approach fasting and abstaining with a sense of joy and purpose, really dig into flavors, try different recipes and share what I learn cooking during Lent? What if I try different types of sea food, tinned fish? What if I cook tofu more, put it into stir fries, soups? What if I plan out what I’m eating on Lenten Fridays, and type out my recipe on an index card or a recipe? Send that recipe to a friend, family or typepal.
(Now this plan has been deeply influenced by the book, Syme’s Letter Writer by Rachel Syme. She’s all about writing out recipes in your voice. Here are some recipe card gems from her book about sharing recipes with penpals.)
Family secret. “This is the place to spill your grandmother’s well-guarded brisket hack or the surprise ingredient in your aunt’s curry. Go on, do it. We’re all family here,” Symes writes. For a Lenten twist, why not share your family’s recipe for King Cake, jambalaya or a hurricane (a customer suggested that celebrate Mardi Gras yesterday. I didn’t take up her suggestion, but I’m curious about just what’s in a hurricane. If you’ve got a good recipe for that, be so kind to drop it in the comments, pretty please with turbinado sugar on top.)
Always works. Need I say more?
Never works. Ditto.
Friday groceries dinner. This is a twist on Syme’s suggestion for Tuesday. During Lent, if you’re abstaining, your cart is going to look mighty different than it does the rest of the week. What’s in it? Do share.
Sunday snack attack. For some, ahem, Sunday is a day off from Lenten promises. Given up chocolate for 40 days? Share what forbidden sweets you’re baking up and indulging on the 7th day of the week. Sworn off alcohol? Tell me about your non-alcoholic alternative.
Your twist on a classic. How do you do fish fries on Lenten Fridays? (By the way, fish fries, a normal restaurant offering here in Wisconsin, are off-the-charts in Lent. How do you like your fish fried? Let me in on the secret.)
Now your recipe doesn’t have to be completed. You’re fully entitled to scratch out, erase anything on your recipe if you’re using a pencil. You’re most welcome to xxxxxx and ——- errant words and typos if you’re typing your recipe cards. Honestly, it’s expected. But if you choose to use correction tape (an option on the darling beast of an electric typewriter, the Selectric III), you can create error-free prose that looks like it’s been printed on an offset printing press or a laser-beam copier, that’s fine. It’s your recipe card.
Index cards or fancy-schmancy recipe cards bought on Etsy, Amazon or found at the Goodwill? Again your iPhone call, it’s your recipe card, for Gawd’s sake! Index cards, the flimsy grocery-store cr-p, beg to be adorned with the best typeface in your typewriter arsenal (anything scriptface is so adorable, and frankly, very retro). I plan on buying those “Here’s what’s cooking” recipe cards that look like they were first printed in the 1970s and using those for a recipe box and letters sent here and abroad.
My Substack friends, I leave you with the simplest recipe in Syme’s Letter Writer. This one is truly For the archives (another Syme’s suggestion). One of her pen pals sent a recipe for a gin-and-tonic that simply read: “Pour all ingredients over ice, stir, party.”
That sounds like the cocktail to end Lent. I might type that up for the cocktail recipes section in my recipe box. Finally, my recipe for Ash Wednesday soup. See below.
So I typed up this recipe card this morning, and I realize the error of my ways. One jalapeño is far too much. Just a sliver or two is plenty, otherwise, this recipe is so good. I added some slivers of organic lemon rind and sprinkled on red pepper flakes. My broth had a tiny noodle fragments in it, but that was fine. Definitely making this again.
Now I’ve got some leftover tofu in the refrigerator. I”m thinking of red curry with tofu for my Lenten Friday repast. Any ideas?
Leave me a comment on your Lenten food favorites down below, the ones that are in the family recipe box. Feel free to secretly message me the cocktail recipe for the drink you’re having later today after you get ashes.
