As I mentioned earlier, we’ve been buying chicken for basically as cheap as canned tuna, so I’m trying to be diverse in our options before I throw myself out the window from eating one too many chicken Caesar salads. Luckily, should it ever come to that point anyway, we’re at least on the ground floor now and I shouldn’t incur too severe of injuries.

What chicken definitely has going for it is that it blends seamlessly into any season. Now that the leaves are falling off the trees and we’re officially technically in autumn, it’s nice to bring out chicken’s warm and comforting nuances in a hearty bowl of chowder. Another autumnal favorite of mine is wild rice, so I threw some of that in there too.

Wild rice is a very Canadian ingredient which, for some reason, means that no one eats it and it’s unusually expensive. It must be somewhat difficult to cultivate or something because it grows wild (hence the name!) in moist marshes and such. Wild rice used to grow everywhere on my grandma’s farm and she loathed it. The first time she “caught” me eating it you should’ve seen the look of horror on her face. I might as well have been picking up cow patties and sticking them between hamburger buns. I like it. It has a wonderful nutty taste and aroma and still has a bit of bite to it when it is cooked, which lends a nice texture to anything it’s added to, including other rices.

This phenomenon where grains that are so outcast that they become cool fetching a small fortune at the market is something that I’ll never fully understand. Teff, a staple grain for the Ethiopian flatbread injera, definitely takes the cake here. After my lesson in Canadian lentils, I shouldn’t have been surprised that Saskatchewan is a world leader in wild rice production, but I was. I’m not sure why I’m discovering all this agricultural knowledge of the prairies after moving, but so be it.

When I still lived in Grande Prairie, good restaurant options were few and far between, and one of the places we’d routinely go for quick lunches was the Safeway deli counter because it was, if nothing else, cheap and consistent. The only soup they had, other than chili, that I really had any fondness for was a chicken and wild rice soup. It didn’t seem to be very popular, but it made me happy.

Chicken and Wild Rice Chowder

• 3 tablespoons butter
• 3 tablespoons all purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• 1 whole boneless, skinless chicken breast, trimmed of excess fat and cut into 1/2″ cubes
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 1 medium carrot, peeled and chopped
• 1 stalk celery, chopped
• 1/2 green bell pepper, seeded and diced
• 1 clove garlic, crushed
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 cups chicken stock
• 1 large starchy potato, peeled and diced
• 1/2 cup wild rice, cooked in boiling, salted water
• 2 cups whole milk, room temperature
• salt and pepper

1. Melt the butter in a small pot over medium heat and cook it until it foams. Once the foam subsides, add the flour and whisk until it is incorporated with the butter. Continue to cook this “roux” until it it turns a rich, medium brown color and has a nutty aroma, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon to prevent it from burning. Prep the rest of the soup in the meantime.
2. Heat your soup pot over medium heat. Add the oil, season the chicken with salt and pepper and brown the chicken pieces in batches, placing in a separate bowl when they are sufficiently browned but not cooked through. There will likely be browned chicken bits stuck to the pot. This is good.
3. Add the onion, carrot, green pepper, garlic and bay leaf and sweat until aromatic.
4. Add the chicken stock and, using a wooden spoon, remove the bits of chicken stuck to the pot. Bring this to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 20-30 minutes, until the vegetables are tender.
5. Once the carrots are tender, add enough salt and pepper to make a flavorful broth. Add the potatoes, chicken and wild rice and cook until the potatoes are tender, about another 10-15 minutes.
6. Meanwhile, in the pot with the roux, slowly whisk the milk into the roux, being careful to whisk out any lumps as they occur before adding more milk. Cook this until it thickens up nicely, about 10-15 minutes, then stir it into the soup pot.
7. Adjust the seasoning of the chowder as necessary with salt and pepper. I like to reduce the heat to a simmer and leave it on the stove for another hour, but you could eat it now, if you wish.

As a Canadian, when I think of the prairies, I think mainly of vast stretches of wheat and canola. I was surprised to find out that Canada produces a huge amount of lentils, mainly in Saskatchewan. Well, we’re producing them, but we’re not really eating that many of them. Canada is the largest exporter of lentils in the world, with over 75% of the several million tonne production being distributed throughout the globe – a billion dollar industry! Unfortunately, what little remains in the country is often used for biofuel and animal feed, with a small percentage actually going into our mouths.

It’s a shame, really. Lentils are a nutritional powerhouse loaded with fiber, iron, folate, protein and other vitamins and nutrients, while being extremely versatile, easy to cook and a pound is often cheaper than a head of lettuce. Not only are they the ultimate frugal food, but they’re one of the best foods that no one is eating, for whatever reason they’re not eating them. To quote Pulse Canada;

“Human beings need a balanced diet to stay healthy, including protein for growth and carbohydrates for energy. As population and wealth increases in developing countries, there is increasing demand for protein. With double or triple the protein content of other field crops, pulses are one of the few ways that the world can meet the protein needs of those extra human beings while leaving a minimum environmental footprint. Pulses are one of the most sustainable, low energy-input, low water-input, and low greenhouse gas emission sources of protein in the world.”

So, basically, if you eat lentils a couple of times a week, you’ll help solve global warming, cure world hunger, become healthier and save some money. Sounds good to me. Below is a simple recipe for a curried red lentil soup. Try my other recipe for Lentil Soup if curry doesn’t appeal to you. It’s important to eat lentils with other grains to make up a complete protein source, so serve these soups with a hearty chunk of bread.

Curried Red Lentil Soup

• 1 tablespoon ghee or vegetable oil
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 2 medium carrots, peeled and chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, crushed
• 2 teaspoons Madras curry powder
• 1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 cup red lentils
• 4 cups chicken stock
• 1/2 cup cilantro, minced
• salt and cayenne pepper to taste

1. In a large soup pot over medium heat, heat ghee with onion and a pinch of salt and sweat until soft and translucent.
2. Add the carrot, garlic, curry powder and turmeric and cook, stirring for one minute, until fragrant and all the pot’s contents are yellow.
3. Add the bay leaf, lentils and chicken stock and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and cook, covered, until lentils are very tender, about 20-25 minutes.
4. Remove from the heat, stir in the cilantro and let the soup cool for several minutes, uncovered, where it will thicken slightly. Season to taste with salt and cayenne pepper and serve with naan or garlic bread.

Red lentils contain less fiber than green or brown lentils, but are otherwise equally as nutritious. Red lentils will fall apart more in the soup, resulting in a consistency more like split peas than their more fibrous counterparts, which is how I prefer them for this soup.

The origins of chili are blurry at best, but it’s safe to say that the states have laid claim to the dish. Whatever the story is, chili is definitely not of Mexican origin, contrary to popular belief, though Spain likely meddled in the pot over the last couple of centuries. In the 19th century, Spanish priests would condemn the consumption of chilies for their heat level (and therefore association with the devil) and the “passion” they produced when eaten. No doubt this increased the allure of this dish, dubbed “The Soup of the Devil” by the church.

Despite its origin, the United States has definitely laid claim to the dish now. In the 1800′s, Texan prisons would feed the prisoners predominantly with chili, as opposed to the standard bread and water. Over time, the Texan prison system started producing such great chili that inmates, on returning to their freedom, would write to their prisons for the recipe, missing the comfort of the chili in confinement. Texas has been chili central ever since, in an ongoing battle with Illinois (where chili is often spelled chilli.)

Typically chili is thought of as a meat dish, and often chili purists will scoff at the idea of adding beans to an “authentic” chili, but it seems to me that a bean based chili is just as likely to have run alongside the cheap meat counterparts in origin. To me, chili is all about showcasing the flavor of chilies, and meat, bean or combination versions are fine by me. Strangely, many chilies available here in Canada really don’t contain much chili at all, but are mostly flavored with sweet paprika and cumin.

“Chili powder” varies in ingredients and quality depending on the purveyor, but typically chili powder contains cumin, oregano or marjoram, paprika, black and chili pepper, and often garlic powder and salt. As soon as spices are ground they begin to lose their potency, and freshly ground spices will always taste better than dried varieties. For this reason alone, although chili powder can often be a good starting point, I prefer to start from scratch. It doesn’t take very long, most of the cooking time for chili doesn’t require any attention anyway, and the results are definitely worth it.

Although chili isn’t Mexican in origin, Mexico certainly offers a nice variety of chilies. I like to use a mixture of ancho (dried poblanos), pasilla and chipotle, with a bit more punch from cayenne and habanero. This blend of chilies will showcase the many nuances of chili flavors. Look for them in any Latin American market, or even in some supermarkets. Yes, that’s a lot of chilies to buy all at once, but each is individually more versatile than just being used for this recipe. I used black beans because I adore them with chilies and because they’re nutritious.

Black Bean Chili

• 1 tablespoon cumin seed
• 2 whole dried pasilla chilies
• 2 whole dried ancho chilies
• 2 whole dried arbol or bird chilies
• 1 whole dried chipotle
• 1 whole dried habanero
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1 large onion, finely chopped
• 4 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1 tablespoon paprika
• 4 ounces tomato paste
• 1 cup dried black beans
• 4 cups water
• 1/3 cup white long grain rice
• 1/2 cup fresh or frozen corn
• Juice of 1 lime
• salt and pepper

1. Heat a dutch oven or heavy bottom pot over medium heat. When hot, add the cumin seed to the dry pot and shake to prevent scorching. When they are fragrant and begin to pop, about 10-15 seconds, transfer them to a spice grinder or mortar and pestle. Grind to a fine powder.
2. Add all the chilies to the dry pot and toast them, turning occasionally with tongs, until lightly blackened and aromatic. Remove from the pot and set aside.
3. Heat the vegetable oil and add the onion. Sweat until translucent, then add the garlic, sugar, oregano, paprika, ground cumin and chilies. Stir to coat with oil and cook for one minute or until very fragrant. Add a generous pinch of salt and season liberally with freshly ground black pepper.
4. Add the black beans and water and raise heat to bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer, cover and cook until the beans are tender, an hour or two depending on the beans.
5. Depending on the dimensions of the pot, more or less evaporation may have occurred. If the chili is very thick, add more water. Add the rice to the pot and cook uncovered until the rice is tender. Continue cooking to reach the desired consistency, if the chili is too thin.
6. At this point I like to remove the chilies. They’ll have flavored the chili and gave it heat already. Optionally, you could grind them with the cumin after toasting, but that’s a lot more work since it’s probably prudent to seed them or get heat overload.
7. Stir in the corn and heat through. Add the lime juice, season to taste with salt and pepper and serve.

Most people I know don’t eat lentils, or go so far as to say that they don’t like lentils. I take that to mean they’ve never had them or only had them out of a can. This soup is how I converted my wife from a, “I don’t like lentils” person to a, well, “This soup is delicious,” person. She knows there’s lentils in it, obviously, but other than this soup she doesn’t exactly ask me to make lentils very often. It’s a start.

This simple mirepoix (onions, celery and carrots) with beef stock and tomato paste makes the basis for a lot of complex soups with flavorful depth. Curiously, it is also the basis for Campbell’s vegetable soup, which I ate copious amounts of as a vegetarian, pleading ignorant to this fact. Ahem.

In frugal times, lentils are an incredibly nutritious and filling protein source, eaten throughout the world in regions where meat is scarce, forbidden, or too expensive. Lentils are deficient in methionine and cystine, so they’re technically not a complete protein source like meat, but this soup is just as hearty and comforting as a warm bowl of beef and barley.

The weather has been warmer than the majority of the summer we’ve been having, but this new house has brand new windows that do a remarkably good job of keeping that heat out. When it’s over 20 degrees outside it feels like 10 in here and we’re bundled up in blankets.

The house doesn’t have a central thermostat – instead, we’ve discovered that each individual heat register has its own knob on the side that can be used to individually adjust that room. Every room has this, except for our bedroom, which is coincidentally also the coldest room in the house.

The original oil radiators are still here as well, they kept those and the old doorways to try and retain some of the original charm of the place after renovations. Although they have a pipe that goes into the wall, I don’t believe they are capable of producing any heat unless lit on fire. Needless to say, even though the weather has been lovely, we’ve been cold at night while we wait for a response from our landlord on how we can turn the heat on.

Leeks and potatoes are hitting the market right now, and the old adage of, “If it grows together, it grows together,” certainly holds true here. Leeks and potatoes are one of those combinations like eggplant, tomatoes and basil. This soup is a classic and, while I actually prefer it warm, is also quite traditionally served chilled, if you’re enjoying the weather where you’re at or know how to operate your thermostat.

Vichyssoise (Potato Leek Soup)

• 3 tablespoons butter
• 3 medium leeks, washed and thinly sliced (white and light green only)
• 2 cups vegetable broth
• 3 medium starchy potatoes, peeled and diced
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
• salt and white pepper

1. Melt butter in a large soup pot over medium-low heat. Add the leeks and a generous pinch of salt and sweat until tender.
2. Add the vegetable broth and potatoes and raise heat to bring just to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until the potatoes can be easily pierced with a fork.
3. Puree the soup in small batches if you like your soup very smooth, or use an immersion blender to achieve the desired consistency you’re looking for.
4. To serve, add the milk and cream, reheat until warm and season to taste with salt and white pepper. Ladle into bowls and serve garnished with chopped parsley. Serve hot or cold.