Mashed Potato Soup

The virus has a name now — COVID-19 — and it's not somewhere else anymore. It's in the news every hour. It's in the conversations at work. It's in the school emails that started coming on Monday — "precautionary measures," "enhanced cleaning protocols," "monitoring the situation." The language of institutions preparing for something they don't understand yet. I don't understand it either. Nobody does. But the feeling is familiar — the feeling of a storm on the horizon that you can see but can't measure, the way a farmer watches the sky and knows something is coming but not when or how bad.

I did what I always do when uncertainty arrives: I cooked. Chicken noodle soup on Monday — the healing soup, the defensive soup, the one that doesn't cure anything but feels like it should. Beef stew on Wednesday — the solid soup, the foundation soup, the one that says, "Whatever is coming, we are fed." Tater tot hotdish on Thursday because Thursday doesn't change for viruses. Tater tot hotdish is constitutional. It endures all administrations and all pandemics and all disruptions. The tater tots don't care about COVID-19. The tater tots care about 375 degrees and forty-five minutes. That's their whole platform.

Kevin came home Friday and said his office might go remote. Remote. Kevin working from home. Kevin, who has driven to Des Moines every weekday for fourteen years, suddenly here, in the house, all day. The prospect is both comforting (he'll be safe) and terrifying (he'll be in my kitchen). I said, "Where will you work?" He said, "The dining room table." I said, "That's where I roll pasta." He said, "I'll work around the pasta." The negotiation of space that is about to define our lives, conducted in advance, over leftover stew, with the practiced diplomacy of a marriage that has survived worse than a virus. We've survived the farm sale. We've survived Roger's surgery. We can survive Kevin at the dining room table. Probably.

The seedlings don't know about the virus. The garlic underground doesn't know. The garden plans don't change. Jack checked the soil temperature Monday morning — forty-one degrees. Nine degrees from planting. The countdown continues regardless of the headlines. The soil doesn't read the news. The soil just warms. And we wait for it to tell us it's ready, the way we've always waited, the way farmers have always waited, for the ground to do the thing the ground does: open up and receive what we plant.

Thursday’s tater tot hotdish held us together beautifully — it always does — but when Friday arrived and Kevin sat down at the dining room table with his laptop and his coffee and his unshakeable calm, I needed something that was just as steady, just as unapologetically starchy, but softer somehow. Mashed potato soup is that soup: it’s what you make when you’ve already fed the family beef stew and chicken noodle soup and hotdish all week, and you still need one more meal that says “we are not afraid of what we don’t understand, because we have potatoes.” It’s thick and filling and completely unimpressed by breaking news, which is exactly the kind of recipe you need in March of 2020.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 1/2 lbs russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
4 cups chicken broth
1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup sour cream
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled (plus extra for topping)
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
2 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish

Instructions

Cook the aromatics. In a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 6–8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more until fragrant.
Simmer the potatoes. Add the cubed potatoes and chicken broth to the pot. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to a steady simmer. Cook uncovered for 15–18 minutes, or until the potatoes are completely tender and easily pierced with a fork.
Mash and blend. Use a potato masher to mash about two-thirds of the potatoes directly in the pot, leaving some chunks for texture. Stir to combine with the broth — the soup will thicken noticeably.
Add dairy and seasoning. Reduce heat to low. Stir in the milk, sour cream, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Heat gently, stirring frequently, for 3–4 minutes. Do not boil after adding the dairy or the soup may break.
Stir in cheese and bacon. Add 3/4 cup of the shredded cheddar and all of the crumbled bacon. Stir until the cheese is fully melted and incorporated. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
Serve and garnish. Ladle into bowls and top with the remaining cheddar, extra bacon crumbles, and sliced green onions. Serve immediately with crusty bread or dinner rolls.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mashed Potato Soup — The Soup That Holds Its Ground