When I was a kid, coming home from school to the aromas of cinnamon, star anise and ginger meant that we would have pho for dinner. Score! I’d throw my backpack on the couch and run to the kitchen to watch my grandfather char onions halves and ginger over the open flame of a burner until they turned black. He’d let me add them into the pot when they had cooled a bit.

When I got older and moved out of the house, I took those scents along with me. Nowadays, it seems I can’t make a stock or broth without using those ingredients to flavor them. There’s always a little Vietnamese inspiration in even the most American soups I serve, like split pea or even this chicken and rice soup. It’s good for any occasion, even an elegant one, if you know how to plate it. I’ll explain.

Say you’ve made this soup and you’re eating it out of a mug, only later you realize that you need something more elegant. In other words, something to help you apologize to your boyfriend after you’ve had a fight. Well, you can turn this soup from homey to handsome with just a few tricks. Pack the rice into a small ramekin to mold it into a circular shape, then overturn the ramekin onto a shallow bowl. You’ll have a neat little rice mound where you can artfully arrange the shredded chicken and parsley. And here’s the kicker: If you’re really in the doghouse with your boyfriend, you pour the hot chicken broth into the bowls at tableside. Now that’s service that says “I’m sorry.”

(Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe.”)

For the stock, you’ll start with a huge pot and 6 quarts of water, but you’ll reduce the liquid to less than half of that to concentrate the broth’s flavors. You may only need a smidge of salt at the end, but sometimes I find that I don’t need any at all. Finish with some lime juice to perk it up a bit.

VIETNAMESE-INSPIRED CHICKEN AND RICE SOUP
Yield: 6 to 8 servings

• 4 pounds chicken bones (carcasses, or necks, backs, wings, etc.)
• 2 medium onions, cut in half
• 1 4-inch piece of ginger
• 2 carrots, peeled
• 2 stalks celery
• 3 star anise
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 teaspoons black peppercorns
• 4 whole cloves
• 2 cinnamon sticks
• 4 garlic cloves, peeled
• 6 quarts water
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• Lime juice, to taste
• 2 cups wild rice
• Shredded chicken from carcass, or 2 cooked and shredded chicken breasts

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Place chicken bones in a roasting pan. When oven comes to temperature, roast bones for 1 hour, or until thoroughly browned. Remove from pan and place in a 10-12 quart stock pot.
2. Place onion halves (peels removed) over the open flame of a gas burner. Use tongs to turn onions when needed. When onions are blackened, place in stock pot. Repeat method with ginger, but cut ginger into 1-inch pieces before placing in pot. Add carrots and celery to pot.
3. Make a sachet of spices: Pile star anise, bay leaf, peppercorns, cloves and garlic in a cheesecloth, and tie with kitchen string to make a little pouch. Add pouch to pot, as well as cinnamon sticks.
4. Fill pot with 6 quarts of cold water, making sure to cover all ingredients (add more if you need to). Bring pot to a boil and immediately turn heat down to medium-low. Let the pot simmer with the lid slightly ajar for 4 hours. Refrain from stirring here, so that you’ll end up with a clear broth.
5. Remove all bones, veggies and spices from pot. Turn heat up to medium-high, and reduce to about half of its current amount. Taste, and add salt if needed. When broth is full-bodied and flavorful (and this depends on personal preference), remove from heat and cool. Add a healthy sprinkle of lime juice, if desired.
6. When ready to serve soup, portion cooked rice into 6 to 8 servings. Pack each serving into a ramekin to mold it into a circular shape. Overturn the ramekin onto a shallow bowl. Arrange the shredded chicken and parsley over rice. Pour hot broth over rice tableside and eat up.

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My column ran today in The Orange County Register print edition today. It’s not available online, so I’ve posted it here. Thanks for reading!
*****
Every year, we look forward to the annual holiday eating rituals: A golden, grand dame of a turkey, savory sides and a sweet finale with pumpkin pie front and center. (And if you’re household is like mine, the obligatory post-feast nap follows soon after.)

Though there’s nothing wrong with these traditions, why not mix it up a bit? This year, you may want to surprise your guests by serving pumpkin pie at the beginning of the meal instead of at dessert. How? By turning it into a soup. The transformation can be made even easier by using canned pumpkin instead of fresh, yielding fantastic results.

Canned food often gets a bad rap for being, well, canned. And rightly so; fresh ingredients are almost always better in recipes. But there are few exceptions to this rule, and canned pumpkin is one of them. For one, the canned variety is way easier to use. When you’ve got your hands full with roasting a bird and preparing sides to go with it, chopping, boiling and mashing fresh pumpkin isn’t making the best use of your time. Tip: When buying canned pumpkin, make sure you’re getting “pumpkin puree” instead of “pumpkin pie mix,” which is offered in similar-sized cans with almost identical labels.

This recipe yields a spicy soup that’s just reminiscent enough of a pumpkin pie to seem like a before-dinner treat, but packs enough savory ingredients to warrant it a place as a starter or first course. And with the welcome addition of bacon, cream and butter (necessary ingredients for happiness, in my opinion), everyone’s a winner.

The following long list of ingredients may look intimidating, but I promise the procedures are quite simple: You simply cook everything in one pot. If you have a formal party and want an elegant soup, you can puree it for a soft, velvety texture. But it’s just as good when left as a hearty, rustic soup.

When I make this soup, I like to serve it with pie crust “crackers” on the side. Take some ready-made pie dough (or homemade, if you have it), roll it out and use cookie cutters to cut rounds from the dough. Bake rounds on a baking sheet according to package directions.

Another fun way to serve this soup is in shot glasses. If there are appetizers before dinner, you can easily slide a tray of these onto any table, and guests can help themselves to pumpkin soup shooters. (Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe.)

PUMPKIN SOUP WITH BACON
Yield: 6 to 8 servings

• 8 strips bacon
• 2 cups onion, diced
• 1 cup carrot, diced
• 1 cup celery, diced
• 1 can (29 ounces) pumpkin puree*
• 1 cup white wine
• 8 cups chicken or vegetable stock
• 1 cup water
• 3/4 cup brown sugar
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 1 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon cloves
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

PROCEDURE:
1. Chop bacon into small pieces. In a 4- or 5-quart pot over medium-high heat, cook bacon until crispy. Remove from pot and set on paper towel-lined plate to drain and cool.
2. Add onion, carrot and celery to bacon fat in pot and cook for about a minute. Add pumpkin puree and cook for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until puree is slightly darker in color. (This will caramelize and deepen the pumpkin’s flavor.)
3. Add wine, stock, water, sugar and all spices, and stir to combine.
4. Bring soup to boil. Reduce heat to low and cover pot, leaving lid slightly ajar to allow room for steam to escape from soup. Simmer for 1 hour, or until soup has reduced by about one quarter.
5. Taste soup and adjust seasonings. (For spicy-food fans, you may want to add more cayenne and chili powder.
6. Optional step: With a blender or immersion blender, puree soup until smooth. If using a blender, puree the soup in batches. Return to pot.
6. Turn off heat and add cream and butter. Mix in bacon. Soup is ready to serve. Garnish with bacon pieces, if desired.

Cook’s note: Should you want to use fresh pumpkin in this recipe, 4 1/2 cups of cubed pumpkin is the equivalent.

Beware, fellow foodies, of the population that boasts membership to our brotherhood but who are actually in a different class all to themselves. They’re called “food snobs.” And they’re very, very dangerous.

Foodies are always looking for what we call “authentic” cuisine, but we know that the term is a loose one and can mean any number of things, depending on the individual foodie. But for food snobs, the word “authentic” is rigidly defined.

Examples: Food snobs wanting Italian will only go to a place owned by a Scarface mob boss twirling his moustache and plotting your off if you make a face like his Nonna’s spaghetti has too much salt. For a bowl of pho, food snobs will only walk into the shoebox-of-a-restaurant with a lucky dollar on the wall and an English-translated menu that you want to edit with a thick, red Sharpie.

Foodies also frequent these places (which are actually quite good), but unlike food snobs, we are willing to try that Italian place owned by Koreans or the Vietnamese place out in the middle of Kansas. Food snobs will not.

Food snobs also think “authentic” means “extreme.” $50 for cassoulet at a French bistro? Authentique. 50 cents for a street taco? Muy autentico. Foodies love these places too, but we also frequent places where cassoulet doesn’t cost an arm and a leg and tacos cost $5. Food snobs will not.

Foodies know that cuisine can be authentic as long as it’s made with good intentions. Which means we think stellar of that pizza place owned by the blond with the beer gut. Which means we heart Rick Bayless. In the eyes of a foodie, the people who produce authentic food are the people who produce dishes enthusiastically, with passion. People like you and me.

So what else does authenticity mean to foodies? It means that you can make chicken tikka masala without a drop of Indian blood coursing through your veins. And it means that I, a Viet/Irish/Italian hybrid, can make a decent bowl of pho. My recipe may not be authentic by food-snob definition, but you can be sure that its intentions are good.

(CLICK ON LINK BELOW FOR RECIPE)

PHO HAPA
Yield: 6 servings

• FOR BROTH:
  2 onions, halved
  1 piece ginger, quartered
  6 pounds beef bones
  1 to 2 pounds oxtail
  5 quarts water
  1/2 cup fish sauce
  2 bay leaves
  1 cinnamon stick
  1 tablespoon black peppercorns
  3 star anise
  6 whole cloves
  2 tablespoons light brown sugar
  Salt and pepper, to taste
• One package rice sticks (pho noodles)
  Beef tenderloin, thinly sliced
• GARNISHES:
  Bean sprouts
  Cilantro
  Lime
  Thai basil

Procedure:
1. Over the open flame of a burner, char onion and ginger halves until fragrant and blackened.
2. In a 10 to 12-quart stockpot, place beef bones and oxtail. Cover with 5 quarts of cold water (bones should be completely covered. If not, add more water).
3. Bring beef bones and water to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 1-1/2 hours, skimming all impurities from bones that float to the surface.
4. Add cinnamon stick, star anise, bay leaf, cloves, peppercorns, fish sauce and sugar to broth. Continue to simmer for another 1-1/2 to 2 hours, skimming surface of broth as needed.
5. Taste broth. Depending on how much marrow is in the bones you use, you may need to simmer for longer and reduce the liquid to get that full-bodied beef taste. Remove bones and spices from broth. Season with salt and pepper.

6. (This is an optional step.) When broth is to your liking, cool broth and place in refrigerator overnight. In the morning, take pot out of fridge and skim fat off of surface of broth.

To assemble:
1. Reheat broth to a boil. Soak pho noodles in a bowl of water until soft. Drain.
2. Heat water in a 4- to 5-quart pot. When water comes to a boil, add soaked noodles. Cook for 3 to 5 minutes, or until noodles are soft. Drain, and portion noodles into bowls.
3. Place thinly sliced raw tenderloin on top of noodles. Ladle broth over meat and noodles. Top with garnishes and serve hot.

– Cynthia Furey