Author’s Note: Late start this morning, and our apologies. There has been a death in the family, a close one, and that sparked a spirited search through large old boxes and ancient stacks of photographs to fill in some holes in the family history. This story about Soup is from this week eleven years ago. At the time, my sister Annook and I were working on a project to capture some of the situational lunacy that goes with trying to protect the parents on their last leg of life. The electronic manuscript caught my attention as I tried to awaken old computers to perform ancient technological functions. Remember “Compact Discs?” They were silver round things like miniature 45-rpm records that slid into little slots on the side of computers. You could copy things onto them, and as part of my hunt for other things, found dozens of them in another old box. That is where I have been for that last few hours, seeing what sort of strange things I was interested in a decade ago, and what life was like with all those people alive and able to comment on what was happening to all of us. This one is fun, since amid the usual gurgle of life there is a hint of terror and a lot of love. And delicious Fall soup!

– Vic

21 October 2010

(Fall leaves at Refuge Farm.)

I am a little disjointed this morning. There is apparently a fellow named John hurtling south from New Jersey, intent on purchasing my 2003 Harley Night Train motorcycle. I don’t want to get rid of it, but hey, I have too many toys and it is about time to grow up.

I don’t have time to do justice to the project de jour. I have a notebook filled with great stories from Mac Shower’s fabled three-career life. That includes the Naval Intelligence one, the Other Government Agency one that we still can’t talk about, and the last sad one, taking care of his beloved wife Billie as the insidious ravages of dementia stole her away.

We can talk all we want to about the last episode. I know something about that, based on what is happening to my folks. I talked to Jackie at Potemkin Village Assisted Living yesterday, trying to find out if the Sunday Detroit Free Press was being delivered to the apartment on the third floor. The Free Press thinks it is, Mom doesn’t, and being 800 miles away, I am at a loss.

Jackie agreed to start an in-depth investigation. I asked, parenthetically, how Raven was doing. “We put a night watch on him,” she replied and apparently he was being a good boy and staying home in the unit we rented for them. The weekend staff, recognizing a change of behavior, curtailed the surveillance.

Bad idea. It is a curious thing, this up and down progress on the road to oblivion. I made my usual Sunday call, and Big Mama was lucid enough to complain gently about the Sunday paper. I did not think to ask to talk to our Dad Raven, since that usually results in some loopy half phrases, incorporating the dread phrases “moving forward” and “getting things done” as part of the ethos that my father carried all of his sentient life. The one before he entered into this incarnation as the inquisitive but inchoate Raven.

Big Mama rang off, saying they had to get to dinner, and I sighed with relief that the matter of her car and her house had not come up as major issues.

I was startled when the cell phone went off as I was cooking a new recipe I had been meaning to try, waiting for the crispness of Fall to bring around the soup season. The minestrone I simmered last month was long gone, even the jug I tucked away in the freezer, and it was time for some creativity.

Bill-from-North Carolina vouched for the recipe. He said, “If you have never had Peanut Soup, then you must try this. It is the best out of over 25 recipes I tried.”

I don’t have the concentration to try a quarter hundred recipes, so I rely on Bill’s energy. Virginia is a peanut state, after all, though not as much as our neighbor to the south, and certainly not as much as Jimmy Carter’s Georgia, but as a native northerner, it is not anything that was front-and-center on my radar.

(Dr. George Washington Carver. Photo by Frances B. Johnston, 1906. Courtesy Library of Congress)

I know something about the general goodness of peanuts from the stories of Dr. Carver, the African-American pioneer in agronomy. He recognized that peanuts are rich in nutrients, providing over 30 essential nutrients and phytonutrients. Peanuts are a good source of niacin, folate, fiber, magnesium, vitamin E, manganese and phosphorus. They also are naturally free of trans-fats and sodium, and contain about 25% protein.

I am watching what I eat these days, partly as a prophylactic against turning into Raven any sooner than I have to, and partly to impress someone with my resolution and resolve.

But you still have to eat, and in that regard we owe a lot to the courageous Dr. Carver, who took on the stereotypes of his time head on. His fame is based on his post-Reconstruction era research and promotion of crops as alternatives to cotton, notably peanuts.

Dr. Carver wanted poor farmers to grow alternative crops both as a source of their own food and as a source of other products to improve their quality of life. The most popular of his forty-four practical bulletins for farmers contained more than a hundred creative recipes centered on the peanut.

My pals in Memphis were the first to introduce me to satay, the Indonesian skewered meat dish with spicy peanut sauce.

Bill’s recipe included a variation with vegetable broth as a substitute for chicken for those who are vegetarians. I am wondering if my artichoke broth might be the key- I stored a batch and thawed it for the experiment.

I was adding the artichoke broth to the onion-flour-celery roué when my phone went off. I was startled to see that it was Big Mama calling, a rare occurrence. The phone in the apartment has very small buttons, and it confuses me, too.

I answered, still stirring vigorously, and she said that dinner was fine, but that Raven was unhappy that he had not talked to me. She put him on, and I had more than five complete sentences, many of them containing whole thoughts.

I was stunned, and gratified. Maybe the assisted living and regular, nutritious meals have made a difference. And maybe it has not. When I asked Jackie how things were going the next day, basking in the idea that things might be getting better, she said that Sunday night Raven had staged an unsupervised break-out, and entered no less than five other apartments, turning on the lights to the dismay of his neighbors.

His quest apparently was to find Big Mama, whose side he left to embark on the journey. Embarrassed, I authorized the restoration of the night security detail. Damn.

Anyway, Bill claimed the soup was “very rich and hits the spot on a cold winter afternoon,” but I can only testify to how good it tasted as the leaves begin to change, gaining color as my summer tan fades. Let me know how you like it.

(Peanut soup originally came from Africa, though Dr. Carver contributed modern research into the southern tradition. Ghana was probably the source country, but a variation certainly was served in Colonial Williamsburg.)

INGREDIENTS

1 Large Yellow Onion Diced and chopped
2 Celery stalks Finely chopped
1/4 Cup Unsalted butter
3 Tablespoons Flour
1 qt (8 cups) Chicken broth OR Vegetable broth OR Hearty Artichoke broth
2 Cups smooth Peanut butter
3 Tablespoons fresh salted creamery Butter
1 Cup Whipping Cream or Half-and-Half
1 teaspoon Sea Salt
1/2 teaspoon coarse ground pepper
1/4 Cup Chopped peanuts

PREPARATION

1. Sauté onion and celery in butter until soft — about 3-5 minutes.
2. Stir in flour and blend well.
3, Add broth (see options above), stirring constantly.
4. Bring mixture to a boil while adding 3 tablespoons of butter, and then let simmer
for 3 to 5 minutes.
5. Remove from heat and then rub through a sieve..
6. Add peanut butter and whipping cream while stirring them in thoroughly.
7. Blend in salt and pepper.
8. Heat thoroughly but do not boil.
9. Serve 8 to 10 and garnish with chopped peanuts..

For pure peanut butter go to Whole Foods over in Clarendon. Try it during the day before the Yuppies get off work and clog the inadequate parking. They have a machine stacked full of peanuts. Put a plastic container under the spout and turn on the switch. The peanuts are ground and out comes pure peanut butter. It costs too much, but how often do you make peanut soup?

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com