I’m an instinctive maker of soups. It comes from my earliest years and the keen observation of my maternal grandmother, who was the mistress of making soups and stews; she would sit at an old, scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen, peeling, chopping and slicing vegetables of all shapes and sizes, as well as trimming meagre looking pieces of meat, which eventually under her guidance in the stockpot became meltingly tender and imbued with the flavours of fresh pot herbs and root vegetables.
No soup or stew was ever the same, each batch had its own vintage, and was never repeated again… it all depended on what was in the pantry or the garden, and the time of the year. Winter was mainly root vegetables with plump pulses to thicken the broth; glistening pearl barley added texture and body and was an essential ingredient to fill empty tummies after a long, frosty walk back from school or after a day in the garden splitting logs. If a ham shank had been cooked, then my favourite soup was made, Ham and Pea or Ham and Lentil. Thick and creamy with the salty taste of ham, it was always eaten with hunks of thick bread and butter, and sometimes had steamed dumplings added.