By The blog passed fifteen thousand followers this week. I do not track these things — the number finds me, in notifications and emails from the platform, the way news finds you when you are not looking for it. Fifteen thousand people following a forty-two-year-old Nebraska truck driver who writes about chili and casseroles and grief and the sound of an eighteen-wheeler on I-80 at night. I do not understand why they are here. I am glad they are here. I will keep cooking and writing, and they will keep reading or they will not, and either way the chili gets made.
A woman emailed me this week. She is a trucker, drives out of Tulsa, and she said she started making meals in her cab after reading my blog. She said she had not cooked in three years — not since her divorce — and that my slow cooker chili post made her cry and then made her go to Walmart and buy a 12-volt slow cooker. She said the first meal she made was the chili, and she ate it at a rest stop in Arkansas, and it tasted like home, and she had not had anything that tasted like home in three years. I read the email twice. Then I printed it and put it in the drawer with Justin's card and the Overdrive magazine. The drawer is getting full. The drawer is the archive of things that prove I am doing something that matters.
I made pumpkin soup this week — roasted sugar pumpkin, chicken broth, cream, nutmeg, a little brown sugar. It is October and pumpkins are everywhere and pumpkin soup is the bridge between fall and winter, between the golden light and the gray, between the harvest and the hibernation. I served it in mugs because soup in mugs is cozier than soup in bowls, and coziness is a design choice, and I am the designer of this family's evenings.
That week — the fifteen thousand, the email from the woman in Tulsa, the chili that tasted like home at an Arkansas rest stop — it called for something as quiet and unhurried as the feeling it left in me. I had already made the pumpkin soup, but I kept coming back to the stove, to the idea of slow heat and simple ingredients doing more than they have any right to do. This cream of onion soup is that kind of recipe: nothing dramatic, just onions and cream and time, the sort of thing you serve in a mug and let speak for itself.
Cream of Onion Soup
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 3 large yellow onions, thinly sliced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon white pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
- 4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
- 1 cup heavy cream
- 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
- Fresh chives or parsley, for garnish
Instructions
- Sweat the onions. Melt butter in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium-low heat. Add sliced onions and salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 25–30 minutes until onions are very soft, golden, and deeply fragrant.
- Add aromatics. Stir in garlic, thyme, and white pepper. Cook for 2 minutes until garlic is softened and fragrant.
- Build the base. Sprinkle flour over the onion mixture and stir to coat. Cook for 1 minute, then slowly pour in the broth while stirring to prevent lumps.
- Simmer. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat. Add Worcestershire sauce. Cook uncovered for 10 minutes, allowing flavors to meld.
- Blend. Use an immersion blender to puree the soup until smooth and velvety. Alternatively, transfer in batches to a blender, venting the lid carefully.
- Finish with cream. Return soup to low heat. Stir in heavy cream and warm through, about 3–5 minutes. Do not boil. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls or mugs. Garnish with fresh chives or parsley and a small drizzle of cream if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 220 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 480mg