An extremely simple recipe for potato leek soup
What follows is less of a recipe and more of a delicious pile of mush. But it being mushy is a strength, not a weakness, and that was especially the case when the dish first came into my life. I was a teen and I'd had two oral surgeries within the span of a few years—take me out to dinner and I'll gladly recount them to you in gory detail!—and as anyone who has ever gotten their wisdom teeth out can attest, the recovery requires very very very soft foods, lest you end up in the dreaded realm of dry socket (I will not link to it and I suggest you not google it but also that do your best to prevent getting it).
My dad claimed he could make the perfect dish for following doctor's orders. So he made me potato leek soup, which, along with apple sauce, was most of what I consumed for several days straight. How I hadn't eaten it before I didn't know, but my still developing brain was offended by that realization. After all, this was another way to consume potatoes, a food I would gladly have filled most of my body with at that age (and at this one too). It became one of the first soups I really loved, not in the least because I got to use the immersion blender—a very cool tool—to make it. Once I left home, I'd make it regularly because it was extremely comforting, maybe even more so than most in a genre of food devoted to that feeling.
I guess I must have cooked it enough to make an impression, because recently my friend Lauren from college requested it apropos of nothing; as you can see in our text exchange, I traded my ability to make potato leek soup for her more impressive dual skill set of having a sewing machine and also knowing how to use it. My dad's potato leek soup recipe requires only six ingredients, and one of them comes out of the faucet you hopefully have in your apartment. I knew it wasn't hard, but I was actually surprised to recall how "not hard" it is.
Potato leek soup, also known as vichyssoise, originates in a variety of western European countries (France, Ireland, Wales). And while the recipes vary, as they always do, the base is quite simple. After a bit of trouble tracking down leeks—Whole Foods told Lauren they were out and were unclear on when they'd get them back in, a huge shock to the system in a world in which stores are supposed to have every item you desire at any point in the year—I arrived at Lauren's house ready to get to work. Lauren actually ended up finding some nicely sized leeks; these days, I feel like every one I come across is massive and you only need like 1.5 for this dish. I've also made this soup with everything from skim to Half & Half and can say that skim is basically not worth it and Half & Half is a lot for a weekday. To me, whole milk is a good compromise. As for potatoes, I prefer Yukon Golds over something like a russet or white, as their added flavor is necessary in a simple dish like this. Lastly, though I still use my dad's immersion blender (that Bauer still kicks!), Lauren had her own, so there was no need to BYO(I)B.
Up until the point where you're mixing the leeks into the potatoes, this recipe is pretty straightforward. But this was yet another one of my dad's recipes that didn't have measurements where we could have used them. When we got to the stage when I need to add the milk and water, I did it as I've done before, and slowly added each so as not to make things too liquidy. I would estimate it ended up being about 3 cups of water and 3 cups of milk. Then you just immersion it all together, add a ton more salt and pepper to taste, and simmer a bit until you're ready to serve. As it says, you can eat this warm or cold, depending on how "tea at the Plaza" you want to be, which makes it a rare great great all-weather soup.
"Don't you remember, you used to make it in college, and I'd come over..." Lauren wistfully rambled as we ate. Even though it's mostly starch, I usually serve this soup with a side of bread, but we upped the ante this time by preparing a crusty garlic bread loaf and a nice bottle of red wine. When we were finishing up, Lauren's husband came home and she forced him to try some; I'm not sure if it was under emotional duress, but he seemed to enjoy it, before asking if he'd read about this meal in one of these dispatches before. "Not yet," I replied. He has now.
