Not sure of Mother Nature’s motive in delivering some spring snow during “March Madness,” but I appreciate opening the door and getting a delectable whiff of onions simmering. It can only mean one thing – French onion soup is in my future.
In a seemingly daily ritual of asking the computer random factoids, I asked why it’s French. Google offered up, “Onion soups have been popular at least as far back as Roman times. Throughout history, they were seen as food for poor people, as onions were plentiful and easy to grow.” Back in 18th century Paris, some bored soul injected beef broth, butter, wine, bread and cheese into a pot of onions and culinary history was made.
I feel bad for my wife because the soup making process is a teary-eyed juggernaut. It’s her choice, however, handed down from generations, to use the more pungent red onion for taste and color. The first half buildup gives us all a good cry whether we need it or not. The good news is the versatile soup can be customized by any home chef depending on what’s in the pantry and fridge and by personal preference.
Onions are good team players. Onion soups also have a lot of health benefits. As part of the Allium family, along with leeks, shallots, garlic and chives, onions have long been good sources of vitamins C and B6, iron, folate and potassium and are known to provide cold and flu relief with their anti-inflammatory properties. They’re also high in the antioxidant quercetin, which accounts for the reputation onions have for disease prevention. Luckily, cooking the majestic onions in soup doesn’t reduce their quercetin value as it simply transfers to the beautiful, flavorful broth.
I guess the reason I like this soothing and delicious soup so well is that it supports a diverse local economy, and its frugality respects people on the land. The red onions, the butter, the beef stock, the herbs, the dry red wine, the crusty, hardy, rye bread with the whitecap of melted Swiss cheese encompassed in the handmade ceramic crock all pay homage to farmers and craftspeople.
As the second half heats up, the hot crocks come out from under the broiler and one must navigate around the stick-to-your-spoon cheese and bread roof to gain access to the deep, rich broth. It’s like a game within a game, albeit without the competition, as everyone is a winner who dunks their way into every victorious mouthful.
The only thing better than having your team win is slipping off to slumber and waking up to another game and another crock of French onion soup.
