Hot Yoghurt & Barley Soup

Onions...

Have  I ever mentioned how much I love Lottie + Doof? Yeah. I have.
This soup, as Tim admits too, is prone to suspicious looks: Hot yoghurt? Barley? Especially during this time of Super Healthy Eating after the Christmas gluttony. But Tim trusts this recipe, and I trust Tim.

The soup worked for me: it was filling and textural while being fresh and light too.
The potatoes use my own improvisation on Indigo restaurant's parsley butter, and the bases became crunchy like Belgian frites...

My iPad has become my cooking companion: recipes, conversion tables, google, and of course, music. Right now I'm in love with Alabama Shakes.

Another blog I love is Chocolate & Zucchini, a Paris-based blog about life, food, and just intriguing stuff in general. Clotilde wrote a funny French post on the tedious, mundane chore of peeling onions, but it was followed by a post on 'Oignons Rotis'- roasted onions.
I love onions... not raw, like the usual Indian food side-dish (yuck), but in any other form.

The result of this recipe is onions that have gently opened, caramelised, softened, sweetened slightly and with a crispy skin that complements the mild inside perfectly. 
This meal maybe isn't for picky eaters... it's different... but that's what I loved about it.

Speaking of onions, Valentine's day is coming up.
Yeah, you read it correctly.

Valentine
By Carol Ann Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful. 

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

Isn't that just beautiful?

Duffy has managed to capture one of the most quotidian objects, and reveal its inner romanticism.
The best part is, she hasn't made it up- it's all  true. You don't realise, when you're chopping an onion (which happens for almost any dish), how much more of a valentine it is than a 'red rose or a satin heart'. 
She has touched upon the way it'll make you cry, how it glows underneath the brown wrapping paper, its myriad layers, its strong and lingering flavour and scent.
On other levels, it really teaches you to understand the concept of 'It's the thought that counts'.
With such depth of emotion a simple onion becomes a stunning gift, and that's applicable to anything. I absolutely love it.

So this week, enjoy something understated, under-appreciated; be it a person, a food, an object, some time or a place. You'll be surprised.

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