MY GRANDMA’S CAST IRON POT

My mom handed down to me this vintage four-quart Dutch Oven along with farm-girl instructions on how to stew a hen. The timing was perfect—it so happens that the main character in my current novel, Libby, has inherited just such a soup kettle from her own grandmother, and I’ve committed to making every broth and gumbo along with her (as I write the story) to test her tastes. Check my first experiment (which turned out delicious) by reading a draft paragraph and maybe trying the recipe yourself:

Libby placed the cast-iron kettle on the back burner and turned the heat on medium until the butter began to sizzle. She softened slivered carrots, celery, and onions without browning them and then blended in a dusting of flour, a pinch of sea salt, and a cup of water, simmering just till it thickened. Wanting to retain the delicacy of the milk she stirred in next, she decided to forgo heavy seasoning; warm milk was a natural sedative, and she was designing this soup for Zinnia, who suffered insomnia after yesterday’s upset with the hoodlums. Poor Zinnia, confined to a diet of instant noodles and canned tuna or whatever she happened to find at Dollar Tree. But Libby had planned a special flavour for her, picked up today on her walk. She buried her nose in the bag and took a deep whiff of the imported garlic-herb Boursin cheese before melting it into the pot, stirring while the chowder made its way back to a simmer. Libby lifted a spoonful of her milky soup-in-progress—her SIP, as she called it—to her lips but found it not quite to her liking, so she finished it with a scraping of nutmeg for both flavor and sedative effect. She hoped it would soothe Zinnia into sleep—and herself, as well.

I can tell that this winter my kitchen will be full of soup smells. Leave a note with your own favourite recipe—it might just make its way into my novel!