Peasant pleasantries...

Cold wintry weather can dampen even the most leavened spirit, but when you are in the drought stricken country side of South Australia rain seems to bring a contented feeling. Water pooling in potholes and running off furrowed earth means prosperity may be nearer for some this year.
What to do...what to do - stoke the fire, another log? Cup of tea, weekend papers? Whats 'so and so' up to? Really.....well I never!
Lunch: Mum somehow cooks a fabulous soup whilst holding an in depth conversation with all of us at the kitchen table. A soup that seems to come from no where, warm you up, satisfy every flavour urge. Peasant soup: A general name for soup that is created out of the ingredient staples of a good kitchen. Cured sausage, vegetables, legumes and stock - what could be easier.
It is a fond memory of mine when I would run through the kitchen, probably away from my marauding sister (she was not much of a bully, more of a persistently influential sibling) and was stopped dead in my tracks by that smell. "Whats that cooking Mum?" Same question every time and it always got the same response "Onions, olive oil and a little butter." I think it took me eight years before I could recognise that sweet, savoury and salivating smell. It brought joy to me and still does cos' I know that there is only good to come from it. It takes children a long time to get around so many of the flavours like certain vegetables, but there were things that I wanted immediately: Fresh made pasta, uncooked dough of any kind, mums cooking chocolate, spoon fulls of Dijon mustard, fresh horseradish, wedges of cheese, mums pesto and dads chili chutney.
There always seemed to be stores of onions, carrot and celery in the kitchen, a 'magic pudding' that came out of the wall in the back of the fridge or cupboard, and refreshed the bag, box or ancient Tupperware container.
Slice cured sausage thinly and brown with a tiny amount of oil, get the fat moving and make sure you get some colour on your pan. Don't be scared of brown bits stuck to your pan, it means things are changing and turning into great flavours. Chop some onion and some garlic and throw in with the sausage, the fat should now be moving out of the sausage and will add great flavour to your soup. If your worried about dying of heart disease, the stress of the worry is probably going to get you first - so the jokes on you. Enjoy a flavourful life! Carrot and celery should be chopped as you care, authentic peasant soup would be chopped into the pot with a small pairing knife. Chef's knifes are a luxury many grandmothers never had, let alone a decent chopping board. Heat your stock. Usually it is chicken stock that is used as the blessed bird was killed on a regular basis and served roasted after church, nothing is wasted and stock is used in dishes there after. I like to put the butter in just before the stock, get the heat high so when you tip the stock in it boils as it hits the pot, this frothing gets the bits off the pan and mixes in the butter. The butter would have been separated from fresh milk from the neighbours dairy and churned in the square timber box, paddled into shape and wrapped in wax paper... It was not so long ago, my grandma would let me know when I was spilling the fresh milk in the bucket on my way from the dairy over the road, and always look left and right when crossing the road not just the milk you just spilt. Legumes require little effort these days, canned beans are sufficient. Soak and boil your berlotti or soy beans, drain them and they apparently freeze all right. You can then toss them in frozen, return to simmer and voila! Season with plenty of cracked pepper and some salt.
I keep bread until it is nearly resembling tropical timber, to combat this I bake it in a low oven to kill any wild penicillin and really get it crispy. Break the once funky bread into your soup and throw your scarf over you left shoulder, preferably your favourite local amateur football team and tuck in. Have seconds, thirds and bloody well do the dishes for your mother you lazy ass.

Giles