Labor Day. The bookend of summer. Kevin grilled the last burgers of the season, which is an Iowa tradition that Kevin treats with appropriate solemnity — the ceremonial closing of the grill, the last briquettes of summer, the putting away of the grilling tools until spring. He doesn't actually stop grilling. He grills in November. He grills in January. But the Labor Day grill has the gravity of a final performance, and he plays the role with commitment.
The kids spent the long weekend doing last-gasps of freedom: Noah rode the go-kart until the battery died, Emma spent two days at friends' houses, and Jack harvested his fall radishes — the first ones, small and red and peppery, pulled from the ground with the same ceremony he gives everything that comes out of the soil. He washed them, sliced them, and ate them raw at the kitchen table with salt. He is seven. He eats raw radishes for fun. The other kids in his class eat fruit snacks. Jack eats radishes.
I made a corn chowder from the canned Bodacious — Jack's corn, from the backyard, canned in August. The chowder is thicker this year because I've improved the technique: sauté the onion and celery longer, add the potatoes earlier so they break down and thicken the base, and use half-and-half instead of heavy cream because the corn is sweet enough that it doesn't need the extra richness. It tasted like the backyard. It tasted like Jack's hands in the dirt. It tasted like a July morning when the tassels appeared and a seven-year-old ran into the kitchen to tell me.
Dad called to ask about the garden's final yield numbers. I handed the phone to Jack. They talked for twenty minutes. I heard numbers: "Twenty-two ears." "Fourteen pounds of Romas." "Eight pints of jalapeños." "Three pounds of bell peppers." Jack was delivering his harvest report to his grandfather the way Roger used to deliver harvest reports to the elevator: factual, complete, with quiet pride underneath the numbers. When he hung up, he said, "Grandpa says we need more corn rows next year." I said, "How many?" He said, "Eight." Kevin, overhearing from the living room, said nothing. The corn is coming for the entire backyard. Kevin knows it. I know it. The corn is unstoppable.
The chowder I made that Labor Day was really a potato soup at its core —the corn was the star, but it was the potatoes breaking down into the base that made it what it was, thick and almost silky, tasting of August and good dirt. I’ve adapted this dairy-free potato soup to carry that same spirit: sauté the aromatics long enough to build sweetness, let the potatoes do the thickening work, and trust that the simplest ingredients —the kind a seven-year-old can pull from the ground himself —are the best ones. Serve it with a handful of Jack’s radishes on the side, sliced thin, with salt.
Dairy-Free Potato Soup
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 3 stalks celery, sliced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
- 4 cups vegetable broth
- 1 cup unsweetened plain oat milk (or other dairy-free milk)
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1 cup fresh or canned corn kernels (drained if canned)
- 2 tablespoons fresh chives or flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for garnish
Instructions
- Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, for 8–10 minutes until softened and just beginning to turn golden. Don’t rush this step —the longer sauté builds a sweeter, deeper base. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Add potatoes and broth. Add the cubed potatoes to the pot and stir to coat in the aromatics. Pour in the vegetable broth. The broth should just cover the potatoes; add a splash of water if needed. Season with salt, pepper, smoked paprika, and thyme.
- Simmer until tender. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to a steady simmer. Cook uncovered for 18–22 minutes, until the potatoes are completely tender and beginning to break apart at the edges. This natural breakdown is what thickens the soup.
- Partially blend. Use an immersion blender to blend roughly half the soup directly in the pot, leaving plenty of potato chunks for texture. Alternatively, transfer half the soup to a blender, blend until smooth, and stir back in. The soup should be thick and creamy but still chunky.
- Add corn and oat milk. Stir in the corn kernels and oat milk. Return the soup to a gentle simmer over medium-low heat for 5 minutes. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh chives or parsley. Serve immediately alongside fresh sliced radishes with coarse salt if you have them.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 218 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 520mg