It’s a cold, rainy Sunday afternoon in November and your stomach is aching for some sort of comfort food.  French onion soup would certainly do the trick, but try this unique take on homemade chicken noodle soup instead.  I found the basis for this fennel-fueled recipe online about a month ago and have been tinkering with it every weekend since, settling on the version presented here.  It’s really the best chicken noodle soup I’ve ever had; it makes your house or apartment smell amazing while cooking, and it tastes even better reheated.

Italian Chicken Noodle Soup
Serves four

1 tbsp. olive oil
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 small yellow onion, chopped
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 carrot, peeled and chopped
2 tsp. fennel seeds
1 tbsp. dried basil
Pinch of red pepper flakes
3 14.5 oz. cans low-sodium chicken broth
1 9 oz. package fresh mini cheese ravioli
2 cups diced cooked chicken
Grated Pecorino Romano cheese

Heat oil in heavy large saucepan over medium heat.  Add pepper, onion, garlic, celery, carrot, fennel seeds, basil, and red pepper flakes and sauté until vegetables are tender, 10 minutes.  Add broth.  Cover and simmer 20 minutes.  Increase to high and bring soup to a boil.  Add ravioli and boil until tender, about 5 minutes.  Add chicken and cook until heated through, about 1 minute.  Season soup to taste with salt and pepper, pour into bowls, and top with grated cheese.

Notes:

If you dislike the taste of fennel (my deepest sympathies to you), stay the hell away from this dish.  Its distinct smell is going to overpower your kitchen while the vegetables are sautéing and is an appropriate gauge for how strong its flavor will be in the soup.  Obviously, the amount of fennel, and the heat from the red pepper flakes, for that matter, can be adjusted to taste.

I found that the mini raviolis worked best for the pasta addition, as their size ensures that you’ll get one in every bite, but regular four-cheese ravioli or tortellini will work fine.  Just make sure it’s fresh.

Why not fresh basil?  You can substitute fresh instead of dried (make sure you double the amount of basil), but I tried it for a batch and it just wasn’t as potent; I suspect the condensed pungency of dried basil complements the fennel more efficiently.

I’ve been making a pot of this soup almost every weekend for the past month and freezing it in Tupperware containers for lunches.  If you plan on doing this, remember that it’s not necessary to boil the pasta; just add along with the chicken, remove from heat, wait until the soup cools, then freeze.  The pasta will cook when you reheat the dish.

Grated Romano or Parmesan cheese will work as a topping, but honestly, this soup is good enough without it.

Aural Pairing

Bobby Hutcherson “Bouquet” Happenings Blue Note 1966

Despite its hints of spiciness, this soup goes down marvelously with some sleepy, meditative acoustic jazz, preferably something from Blue Note’s mid-‘60s catalogue.  Bobby Hutcherson’s Happenings (1966), dominated by the leader’s icy vibes and Herbie Hancock’s elegant musings, hits the spot nicely.  Hutcherson was beginning a string of adventurous and first-class dates for the label at this phase of his career, a fruitful, decade-long relationship that would continue into the mid-‘70s and is sadly still patchy in the reissues department at present.  Happenings finds him in a comfortable quartet setting with the aforementioned Hancock (a cover of “Maiden Voyage” is the only non-Hutcherson tune here) along with bassist Bob Cranshaw and the always-reliable Joe Chambers on the kit.  “Bouquet”’s gentle buoyancy eases the listener through calm waters, guided by Cranshaw’s propulsive three-note motif and peppered with some tasty brush work by Chambers.  Hancock’s solo is reflective without being wistful and is a telling precursor to his breathtaking performance on Miles’ “Circles,” which would be recorded a few months later.  Bon appétit.

“Bouquet” – Bobby Hutcherson 8:10 (Happenings, Blue Note 1966)

Today marks the debut of a feature that I’ve been tossing around in my head for over a year now. I doubt I’ve ever mentioned it here on the site, but my love for good food almost matches my passion for all things music, and over the past few years I’ve been discovering the pleasures of cooking. In addition to the various ingredients and spices, you’ll also find two indispensable items in my kitchen while I’m preparing a meal: an alcoholic beverage and a stereo. The first is pretty obvious, but the second holds a certain fascination with me. Wine and beer connoisseurs have been pairing food and drink together for centuries, but what about food and music? I’ve been experimenting with musical compliments to my meals almost as long as I’ve been cooking, and I’ve found that there is something deeply rewarding in choosing the perfect aural counterpart to a favorite dish. Why not satiate the ears as well as the hungry stomach?

“Modern Audiac Cuisine” is a nod to the Stereolab album of a similar name and will serve as a place to share some of my favorite culinary and musical pairings. I’ll try to steer away from the obvious (ex. enchiladas and mariachi music or Italian food and a Morricone soundtrack) and will always provide a (hopefully insightful) context for each selection. Novice cooks fear not, as you won’t find any exotic emulsions or fragrant infusions in any of the recipes. My tastes tend to lean more towards the simple, clean, and fast. And by all means, use the comments board to offer alternative ingredients or other ideas and suggestions for musical pairings.

Let’s start with an easy one first: a seriously gourmet-ass dish that tastes more complex than it is, which also happens to be the best homemade mac and cheese I’ve ever tasted.

Gruyère Macaroni and Cheese with Prosciutto
Serves four

10 oz cavatappi or other corkscrew pasta
1 cup heavy whipping cream
2 cups grated Gruyère cheese (about 8 oz.), divided
3/4 cup whole milk
4 oz. Prosciutto di Parma, roughly chopped
3 tbsp. grated parmesan cheese
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Butter 9” x 9” baking dish. Cook pasta as directed in a large pot of boiling salted water and drain well.

While pasta is cooking, whip cream in large mixing bowl. Whisk in 1 cup of Gruyère, milk, prosciutto, parmesan, and nutmeg. Add pasta and toss to coat, then season with salt and pepper. Transfer to prepared baking dish and sprinkle remaining 1 cup Gruyere on top.

Bake uncovered for 25 minutes or until cheese has melted. Remove from oven and let sit for 5 minutes before serving.

Notes:

For an appropriate side, steam some fresh green beans with a tablespoon of butter for about 5 minutes, then sprinkle with toasted almonds. You can’t beat that with a bat.

“It was good, but it was too runny.” This is the standard response from many first-timers, and it’s usually because they overcooked the pasta or served the mac and cheese immediately once it came out of the oven. There are three ways to prevent your mac and cheese from leaking all over the plate when served:

• Whip the hell out of the cream until it’s thick and fluffy. Don’t stir it lightly with the whisk a few times then add the other ingredients. Your arm and wrist should be tired by the time you’re done whisking.

• Cook the pasta just shy of al dente; for example, if the box says 8 minutes, cook it for 6. The pasta will absorb more of the milk while it’s baking in the oven.

• Let the mac and cheese sit for 5 full minutes before serving. It’s going to be too hot to eat immediately anyway, so let some of the moisture escape.

I prefer corkscrew pasta (cavatappi and cellentani, or even rotini and fusilli would work), but common elbow macaroni is fine as well – just add another ounce or two to even out the volume.

Remember to take it easy on the salt when seasoning – the prosciutto adds a sweet saltiness to the mix already.

Whole Foods sells a tangy, buttery Gruyère that’s delicious and cheaper than most Gruyères I’ve seen elsewhere.

To keep the prosciutto from clumping, add one little piece at a time to the milk and cheese mixture. Yeah, it’s tedious, but it’s worth it.

I prefer my mac and cheese with a nutty spiciness by adding 1/2 tsp. of nutmeg and freshly ground black pepper. If you’re feeling adventurous you could add a dash of white truffle oil just before serving, but I attempted this once and found the dish better without it.

If Prosciutto di Parma isn’t in your budget, don’t bother with domestic or Canadian prosciutto as a substitute. Add a few links of sliced and cooked andouille sausage instead.

I suppose you could save any leftovers here, but I’ve found from experience that this particular mac and cheese recipe doesn’t hold up in the microwave.

Pinetop Seven “The Palm Acres Parade” Bringing Home the Last Great Strike Atavistic 2000

For most, mac and cheese is the very definition of comfort food. For the aural pairing, it’s natural that one would wish for the same warm coziness to highlight and not work against the dish. The hugely underrated Chicago collective Pinetop Seven, and particularly their shining hour, Bringing Home the Last Great Strike (2000), are the kind of band to curl up with on a frigid January evening and make a wonderful complement to the meal here. The drugged waltz feel and soft melancholy of “The Palm Acres Parade” encourages, almost begs the listener to savor every bite: the delicate tenor of Darren Richard mirrors the rich silkiness of the Gruyère while the clarinets emphasize the dominant French influence in the dish, and the expansive, widescreen atmosphere present in the recording resonates with the inherent heartiness of the mac and cheese. It’s immensely satisfying to the point of tranquility. Cue this up on the hi-fi before serving and watch your diners bring a new definition to the phrase “food coma” at the conclusion of dinner.

“The Palm Acres Parade” – Pinetop Seven 3:56 (Bringing Home the Last Great Strike, Atavistic 2000)