I've been fascinated by the kitchen tales in the Sunday NYT magazine called "Cooking With Dexter." Dexter is a preternaturally accomplished 4-year-old cook. He has opinions. He is curious. He wants to heat, and stir, and chop. His dad supervises.
Are we being played for fools? Could a kid this young really devise his own vegetable pie, and bake it?
Maybe we are being played for fools. After all, what kind of parent names his son Dexter? Surely Dexter is a fiction, albeit an enjoyable read.
According to papa, Dexter wanted to fry kale. Dad said, no, that would be icky. But he did it anyway, because Dexter has him wrapped around his fictitious pinkie.
This led to a recipe for soup, for which the fried greens would be no more than a crunchy garnish. Take that, Dexter. Your dad's making up the soup, not you.
The soup sounded interesting, and we had to try it.
It's made with sauteed onions and garlic, to which are added half a chopped Spanish chorizo sausage, some peeled potatoes, and water. Simmer, simmer. Then puree with an immersion blender. I had never thought about blending — blending! — meat with potatoes for soup. It turns an intriguing orange color.
The other half of the chorizo (cubed and sizzled in the onion-frying pan) goes into the bottom of soup bowls. You pour the blended soup over it, and top with the frizzled kale.
We had some red chard growing in the yard, so that's what we used for the crispy garnish. The color was just right, we thought.
The soup was really good. It's creamy, without a single drop of dairy. We punched it up with a few sprinkles of salt and a couple of dashes of hot, smoky paprika.
It's really filling. Ohgod, I am so full.
Dexter, could you come over and clean up the kitchen?