Memories of Moosewood and Enchanted Broccoli Forest Soup
When I arrived in the US at age 21, more years ago than all the digits on your hands and feet, I was in for a culinary disappointment, if not a culture shock. Indeed, the shock was on the other foot, if weak puns are permitted.
After an entire week of eating raw cauliflower and broccoli in salads at one memorable Gordon Conference in New Hampshire (notwithstanding the awesome science!), I finally informed the chef that the difference between a vegetarian and a goat was that only the latter did not need their food cooked.
In the midst of this culinary calamity, my housemate Catherine (a lovely British-American transplant) gave me the Moosewood cookbook. Inspired to spread my fledgling wings in our tiny apartment kitchen, I worked through the recipes. Yesterday, I recreated this soup.
Oh, if you were curious: Catherine’s inscription on my book (last picture) ends with the Bengali words “Ami Tumarke Bhalo bashe”. Google Translate is not needed for those universal words of affection, “I love you”. Much comfort and sustenance to all!