Mushroom Barley Soup

Back to school. The juniors returned from winter break having read approximately a third of what was assigned, which is one third more than I expected, so I adjusted my plans accordingly and spent Monday doing a class discussion that was actually quite good — the thing about Gatsby they all managed to find was the green light, which is what everyone finds, but one student named Marcus said the green light was just desire without direction, and I nearly stopped the class to make him say it again. Sometimes a seventeen-year-old says something so precisely right that teaching feels like the exact right vocation. Then his phone buzzed and he looked at it under the desk, and the moment passed.

I have been drafting something. Not for school, for the blog. I have been writing RecipeSpinoff posts for almost three years now, and they have always been about food and memory and my mother and my Jewishness — the safe subjects, the subjects I have already processed enough to write about clearly. But something has been building in me since September, some pressure that requires a valve, and the valve I know best is writing. So I have been drafting a post about Marvin.

It is harder than anything I have written for the blog. The Sylvia posts — I could write about my mother because I had processed her loss, because I had sixteen years of distance and grief that had settled into something I could shape into sentences. Marvin is not processed. Marvin is alive and in the next room and also, in some way I am still learning to articulate, being lost to me slowly, the way a tide goes out in increments rather than all at once. Writing about it while it is happening feels like writing in a burning building. But the writing is also, somehow, how I keep from burning.

I made challah on Friday. I always make challah on Friday — this is not a decision I make, it is a fact of my Fridays the way Tuesday follows Monday. I braided the three strands and thought about the draft, about whether I would publish it, about what it means to turn private grief into public essay. My mother would have said: if the writing helps one person feel less alone, you publish it. Sylvia Rosen was not, in general, a fan of private suffering. Neither, when it comes to it, am I.

The challah gets braided and goes into the oven, and while it bakes I always have a pot going on the stove — something that doesn’t need watching, something that can absorb an hour of distracted stirring and still come out right. This week it was mushroom barley soup, which my mother made the way she made everything: without a recipe, by feel, by memory. I wrote this version down years ago by standing next to her and measuring what she poured. If I am going to write about Marvin, I am going to need this soup. Some things you make because they are delicious. Some things you make because they are how you stay upright.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 35 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 oz dried porcini mushrooms
2 cups boiling water
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into rounds
2 stalks celery, sliced
1 lb cremini mushrooms, sliced
1 cup pearl barley, rinsed
8 cups vegetable or beef broth
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped, for serving

Instructions

Rehydrate the porcini. Place dried porcini mushrooms in a small bowl and pour 2 cups boiling water over them. Let soak for 20 minutes. Lift mushrooms out, chop roughly, and reserve the soaking liquid — pour it through a fine mesh strainer to remove any grit.
Build the base. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 6 to 8 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more.
Add the vegetables. Stir in carrots and celery. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes until they begin to soften. Add the sliced cremini mushrooms and the chopped rehydrated porcini. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms release their liquid and begin to brown, about 8 minutes.
Add barley and liquid. Stir in the rinsed pearl barley. Pour in the broth and the reserved porcini soaking liquid. Add bay leaves, thyme, and smoked paprika. Stir to combine.
Simmer low and slow. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 50 to 60 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the barley is tender and the soup has thickened. Add a splash of water or broth if it becomes too thick.
Season and finish. Remove bay leaves. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh chopped parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mushroom Barley Soup — The Pot That Simmers While the Challah Braids