Read How to Eat for Free Online Page B

difference, but I haven’t quite got round to that yet.
    There are two ways to go about preparing the vegetables for this. For a chunkier soup, chop them roughly (with the exception of the leek, which is sliced), as I indicate below, or put the whole lot in a food processor and pulse it briefly until chopped medium-fine. This will give you a soup with a finer texture. If it’s a smooth, velvety texture you’re after, follow the directions about puréeing the soup.
    Although my hand is pretty well permanently stuck, culinarily speaking, around the neck of a bottle of Marsala, I admit that there isn’t a vegetable soup in the land that doesn’t benefit from the addition of a little dry sherry.
    3 tablespoons olive oil, or 3 tablespoons butter and a drop of oil
    1 medium onion, roughly chopped
    2 medium carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
    1 turnip, peeled and roughly chopped
    1 parsnip, peeled and roughly chopped
    1 floury potato, peeled and roughly chopped
    1 celery stalk, roughly chopped
    1 medium leek, white part only, sliced thickly
    salt
    4 cups vegetable stock
    1 bouquet garni (see page xx )
    freshly milled black pepper
    whole nutmeg (optional)
    1–2 tablespoons dry sherry
    2–3 tablespoons fresh parsley, chives, or chervil, for serving
    Heat the oil, or butter with its drop of oil, in a large, wide saucepan (one which has a lid, preferably) and then add the chopped vegetables and the leek to it, turning all over a few times so they all have a slight slick of fat. Sprinkle with salt, cover, and, on a low heat, let them half-fry, half-braise until softened, 10–15 minutes, shaking the pan from time to time and occasionally opening the lid to stir (making sure nothing’s sticking or burning at the bottom) before putting the lid back on again. Pour in the stock, adding the bouquet garni and a good grind of pepper, and bring, uncovered, to a simmer, then cook for 20–40 minutes (exactly how long depends on the age of the vegetables, the size you’ve chopped them, the dimensions of the pan, and the material of which the pan’s made).
    Serve as is or, for a finer texture, blend or process the cooked soup or push it through a food mill. Alternatively, if you’ve got one of those stick blenders, you can do an agreeably rough purée in the saucepan. Sometimes I take out a couple of ladlefuls, blend or process them, and put them back into the soup to thicken it without turning it all to mush. Season to taste with salt and pepper and, optionally, a bit of grated nutmeg at the end, and stir in the sherry before serving, sprinkling over fresh herbs as you wish. Serves 4–6.
    BREAD CRUMBS
    These are a regular and very ordinary kitchen requirement, but because we are all out of the habit of using up leftovers, few of us are clear on how to go about making that misnomer, fresh bread crumbs. I say misnomer, because you really want them stale.
    I don’t bother with drying out bread in the oven. I just take the crusts off some slices of stale-ish (but not bone dry) good white bread, cut the bread into chunks, and lacerate them into crumbs in the processor. I then leave the crumbs in a shallow bowl or spread them out on a plate to dry and get staler naturally. If you want to make the sort of bread crumbs that you can buy, those very dry, very small crumbs that could coat, say, a scaloppina Milanese, then just leave the bread till it’s utterly dried out and cardboardy beyond belief before blitzing it in the processor. You can keep breadcrumbs in a freezer bag in the freezer and use them straight from frozen. I reckon an average slice of good bread, without crusts, weighs about an ounce; this in turn yields approximately 6 tablespoons bread crumbs.
    VINAIGRETTE
----
    One of the holdovers of the hostess-trolley age is the idea that the clever cook has a secret vinaigrette recipe that can transform the dullest lettuce into a Sensational Salad. I’m not sure I even have a regular vinaigrette recipe, let alone one with a winning,