
Chef Thomas
A Proper Chicken Broth
Sunday's roast chicken, simmered slowly on Monday with carrots, celery, leeks, and thyme into a bowl of clear, golden broth that smells like the kitchen is paying attention.
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Leeks sweated slowly in butter, potatoes simmered until they give way, the whole thing blended to velvet and finished with cream. A bowl of soup for the kind of evening when comfort is the only thing on the menu.
The kitchen window has fogged over. That's how you know the soup is doing what it should. There's a pan on the hob, leeks collapsed into butter, potatoes softening in stock, and the room smells of something so quietly good that it barely announces itself. This is not a soup that shouts. It arrives gently, like a hand on your shoulder.
Leeks and potatoes. I can't think of a more honest combination. The leeks bring sweetness, the potatoes give body, and the butter holds it all together. There's nothing to hide behind. No spice rack to raid, no clever technique to master. You soften, you simmer, you blend. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, and this one barely needs a recipe at all. Once you've made it twice, you'll do it from memory.
I come back to this soup every autumn, usually the first week the evenings draw in properly and the kitchen feels like the warmest room in the house. I wrote it down in the notebook years ago, just a few words: leeks, butter, stock, Tuesday. The rain was heavy that evening. The soup was right. Sometimes that's all you need to record.
It's worth saying that this soup is equally good cold, thinned with a little extra stock and served in smaller bowls on a warm evening with chives snipped over the top. The French call it vichyssoise and serve it as though they invented something. We've been making it in this country for longer than anyone remembers. We just didn't give it a name.
Quantity
4 large
white and pale green parts only, halved lengthways and sliced
Quantity
40g
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
3 medium
peeled and roughly chopped
Quantity
1 litre
Quantity
100ml
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
small bunch
finely snipped
Quantity
for finishing
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| leekswhite and pale green parts only, halved lengthways and sliced | 4 large |
| unsalted butter | 40g |
| olive oil | 1 tablespoon |
| floury potatoes (Maris Piper or King Edward)peeled and roughly chopped | 3 medium |
| chicken or vegetable stock | 1 litre |
| double cream | 100ml |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| white pepper | to taste |
| chivesfinely snipped | small bunch |
| extra cream or good olive oil (optional) | for finishing |
Melt the butter with the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pan over a low heat. The oil stops the butter burning, which matters because you're going to leave the leeks alone for a while. Add the sliced leeks and a good pinch of salt. Stir them through the fat until they're coated and glistening, then cover with a lid. Let them sweat gently for a full fifteen minutes, stirring once or twice. You're not cooking them. You're coaxing them. They should go soft and silky, almost collapsed, sweet as anything. No colour. If you see even a hint of brown at the edges, your heat is too high. Turn it down and be patient.
When the leeks are soft and yielding, add the chopped potatoes and stir them through. Pour in the stock. It should cover everything comfortably, with a centimetre or so to spare. If it doesn't, add a splash of water. Bring to a gentle simmer, not a boil, and cook with the lid slightly ajar for twenty to twenty-five minutes. The potatoes are ready when they offer no resistance to the point of a knife. They should be almost falling apart. That's what you want. They're going to become the body of the soup.
Take the pan off the heat. Blend the soup until it is completely, silkily smooth. A stick blender in the pan is the easiest way, and the one that creates the least washing up, which counts. Work it longer than you think you need to. The texture you're after is velvet: no graininess, no lumps, nothing that catches on the tongue. If it feels too thick, add a splash more stock and blend again. If it seems thin, don't worry. The cream will give it weight.
Return the pan to a low heat. Stir in the cream. Warm the soup through gently without letting it boil, which would dull the colour and flatten the taste. Now season. Salt first, more than you expect. White pepper, just enough. Taste it. A good leek and potato soup should taste clean and sweet, of leeks and butter and the quiet background hum of stock. If it tastes of nothing much, it needs more salt. Taste it again. When it's right, you'll know. Ladle into warm bowls, finish each one with a swirl of cream or a thread of good olive oil, and scatter the chives over the top. Serve with bread that deserves to be torn.
1 serving (about 480g)
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