Cease-Fire Mushroom Soup

A trip up north, a supposed cessation in conflict, my husband's' birthday, and book launch approaching.

It was the end of Passover, and also my husband’s birthday.

We headed north that Tuesday afternoon, accepting the risk of a two-plus-hour drive in the middle of a war to be with his children and our grandchildren. After picking up his son in south Tel Aviv, we coasted out of a city that felt strangely suspended—streets eerily empty for a holiday when people are usually in motion, moving between festive gatherings. We drove for two uninterrupted hours, without a single security delay.

The days leading up to the trip had been trying: nights fractured by security warnings, sirens, and the boom-boom-thud-thud of interceptions overhead (or, more ominously, the crashing impact of rockets or shrapnel). Nerves were frayed. People were being killed in Israel (and, of course, in Lebanon and Iran). The devastation felt everywhere all at once.

Still, we were determined to reach Jay’s daughter, her husband, and our two grandchildren, who live just a few kilometers from Kiryat Shmona, near the Lebanese border—an area long accustomed to tension, now intensified by active conflict between Israel and Hezbollah. They lived with a constant backdrop of distant explosions, though their small kibbutz had, for the moment, remained relatively quiet. A few minutes’ drive can make a huge difference.

The contrast with Tel Aviv was stark. At home, we typically receive several minutes’ warning before a missile strike; there, they have about 15 seconds to reach the mamad (safe room). The family sleeps there as a precaution, and we were told to be prepared to run in if a siren began its wail.

But we didn’t have to. While we were there, a cease-fire between the United States, Iran, and Israel took hold. Though it did not formally extend to the northern border, and we braced for eve further escalation, those 24 hours proved to be an ephemeral bubble of relative calm.

We cooked, sat outside in the spring sun, made pottery together, and counted blessings.

Shani brought home rainbow trout from a nearby fishery, which I roasted simply with garlic and lemon, finishing it with a brown butter sauce. As is my habit, I surveyed the refrigerator and asked what I could make from what was there: sweet potatoes, Parmesan, milk. I whisked together a quick béchamel, layered the potatoes into a gratin, and watched it disappear almost as soon as it cooled. Shani also made a delicious vegetarian of Iraqi-Kurdish beet-kubbeh soup (there’s a meat version in my Shabbat cookbook)

Yuval, our granddaughter, made Jay a small ceramic keepsake box with a tiny scroll tucked inside, bearing a birthday message. Shani bought him an orchid—his favorite—and baked a Krembo (marshmallow and chocolate) cake, presenting it as the children crowned him with a wreath of flowers.

And I made mushroom soup. It was generous with mushrooms (my rule is one pound per four cups of liquid), building depth with barley, carrots, celery, onion, tomato paste, a Parmesan rind, and vegetable broth.

We filled our bowls of soup and loaded our plates with squares of gratin and an arugula salad topped with shavings of parmesan and drizzled with balsamic and Northern Israeli olive oil. Even our seven-year-old granddaughter, usually a selective eater, slupred it up, then asked for seconds. By now you know I love feding people more than anything else. But feeding your own littles and seeing them nod in approval is a gift beyond material measure.

We said our goodbyes and drove home that evening. Jay said it was one of his favorite birthdays. He is a simple guy, in his happiest place when this group of people is in his orbit.

The cease-fire feels very fragile, and we don’t know what the coming days will bring. But weekends like this—time with family, a shared meal, the ordinary rituals of care—have a way of clarifying what matters most.

Umami Mushroom Soup

Serves 10 to 12

1 ounce dried mushrooms*

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 large onion, diced

2 large carrots, diced

2 celery stalks, diced

1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 Tablespoons tomato paste

2 pounds button mushrooms, trimmed and sliced

1 parmesan rind (optional)

½ cup pearled barley (or one 14-ounce can white beans, drained)

7 cups water, vegetable broth, or a combination

1 to 2 tablespoons blond miso or soy sauce

1/4 cup chopped parsley for garnish

Hydrate the mushrooms in 3 cups boiling water for an hour until the mushrooms are soft and the liquid is dark. Pull the mushrooms out of the liquid, carefully letting any sand or dirt fall to the bottom of the liquid. Finely chop the mushrooms and reserve the 3 cups mushroom hydrating liquid

Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, season with salt, and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, 8 to 9 minutes.

Add the garlic and tomato paste and cook, stirring, until tomato paste is caramelized, 2 minutes.

Add the mushrooms with another generous pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until they release their liquid, 7 to 8 minutes (don’t let all the liquid evaporate; this becomes part of the broth)

Add the parmesan rind (if using), 1/2 teaspoon each salt and pepper, barley (or white beans), 3 cups reserved mushroom liquid, broth/water, and miso or soy. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a gentle simmer. Cook partially covered until the barley is tender and the soup thickens slightly, 35–45 minutes. Add more water as needed to reach your desired consistency. Season with salt and pepper and stir in the parsley.

*If you don’t have dried mushrooms, just use a full 10 cups of broth/water.

Ways to up the umami in a vegetarian soup:

Dried Mushrooms: hydrate 1 ounce dried mushrooms in 2 or 3 cups boiling water for 1 hour. Remove mushrooms, squeeze liquid back into liquid. Finely. Finely chop mushrooms and add to soup along with the liquid (use in place of some broth or water).

Parmesan rind: I go through so much parm here, thankfully I have a steady supply of the dry end pieces. I freeze them, then throw into soups.

Miso: Adding 1 or 2 tablespoons blond or white miso to a soup adds multitudes of flavor and depth without dairy or meat. I use it in so many soups, but it works especially well with mushrooms.

Soy sauce: Long been my secret for meat-free French onion soup, but works with any soup.

Zariz Is Coming!

My book launch is just 2 1/2 weeks away. I have a BIG book tour planned and I hope to see you there! You can see all the stops and find links to buy tickets here.

Things start with a fun launch event April 28th in New York with my friend Gail Simmons moderating (tickets here). Everyone gets a signed book, there will be tastings (kosher!), giveaways, and hugs until the last person gets one.

Preorders are still super important. They signal to the publisher that this book matters, and (more on this to come) with every new book, I get less mainstream media coverage. Can you guess why? :)

If you are in the USA, you can preorder signed copies from Kitchen Arts & Letters in New York. Assuming I can get out of Israel things are looking good right now!) I will be signing all the preorders on April 22, they will be mailed out to arrive by publication day (April 28th).

And you can order from all the other places, too. Thank you in advance for your support; really means the world to me!