Pease Porridge Hot: Split Pea Soup

If you are a man lucky enough to have had a childhood like mine, you may remember the joys of slapping hands with the girl next to you as a gaggle of kids played “Pease Porridge Hot” during recess at school. And though I can’t speak from personal experience, many a fortunate woman may have a similar memory of singing the song over and over again and dancing in a circle until everyone broke into laughter when the last line changed to “Spell that in four letters. T-H-A-T!!” Happy times indeed.

Pease porridge or pease pudding, as our British friends call this delicious soup, has been around for a long time. Wild peas are a legume native to areas around the Mediterranean Sea, but wild peas were one of the plants domesticated during the neolithic revolution sometime around 12,000 years ago. Much later, the Greeks and Romans enjoyed peas as a tender fresh vegetable in the spring and as a reliable food that would keep for years when the seeds were mature and dry.

The dry seeds are boiled in water to make pease porridge. While it was probably pretty bland, pease porridge provided fiber, protein, important vitamins and minerals, and enough carbohydrates to give people the energy they needed during the long winters when food was in short supply. And as Reay Tannahill observes in her book, Food in History, “Pease pudding in the pot, nine days old” suggests that the “dish had keeping qualities which endeared it more to the housewife than to her family.”

Today, dietitians recommend that we include peas in our diets. In fact, the Mayo Clinic web site says that legumes, which includes beans and peas, “are among the most versatile and nutritious foods available.” Besides including lots of good vitamins and minerals, peas are low on the Glycemic Index, which makes them especially attractive to people with type 2 diabetes.

Many dietitians also point out that split peas have almost no fat, but you can fix that shortcoming by following this recipe for split pea soup. There’s nothing like a good smoked pork hock or meaty ham bone to add some flavor and fat to a pot of bland legumes. And actually, you won’t be adding a lot of fat per serving, so don’t let the Health Food Police scare you.

INGREDIENTS:

1 lb. split green peas
1 smoked pork hock (about 2 lbs.)
Enough water to cover the pork hock
2 beef bouillon cubes or 2 tsp. instant bouillon
2 medium potatoes
4 medium carrots
1 medium onion
1 bay leaf
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
Salt and pepper to taste

PROCEDURE: If you start with one of those country smoked pork hocks that looks a little dusty, rinse it off. Put it in a soup pot and cover it with water. Bring it to a boil, reduce the heat, cover the pot and simmer the hock for about three hours. Jerri always says, “You are cooking out all the flavor!” to which I reply, “That’s what I am trying to do.”

Besides extracting the flavor, the long slow simmer helps release gelatin from the bones and skin, which adds to the richness of the soup, so keep it simmering for at least two and a half hours. Add water if necessary to keep the meat covered. When the hock has simmered long enough, take it out of the broth and set it aside to cool on a platter.

Watch for stones as you pick the split peas over carefully and put them in a bowl or saucepan. Rinse them until the water is fairly clear, then drain them in a colander and put the peas in the broth. Bring the pot to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer the soup for about forty minutes.

While the peas are cooking, peel two medium potatoes and cut them into a quarter to half inch dice. Peel or scrape the carrots and slice them into quarter inch rounds. I like to cut larger carrots in half and slice them into half rounds. Peel and chop the onion fine. You should have about a cup of chopped carrots and onion and a cup and a half of diced potato. Since I like carrots, I sometimes have more than a cup of those sweet veggies.

Put the vegetables into the pot, add the bouillon, the bay leaf and about an eighth of a teaspoon of ground cloves. Grind some black pepper over the top and stir well. Simmer the soup for about thirty minutes until the vegetables are tender. Add water if the soup seems too thick. As the soup thickens, it will stick to the bottom of the pot. Stir it often to prevent scorching.

While the vegetables are cooking, discard the skin, fat and bones of the hock and chop the meat into bite-sized pieces. Stir them into the soup.

Taste the soup when the vegetables are tender. If it needs salt, you can add another bouillon cube or a teaspoon of instant bouillon, stir well for a minute or two, then taste again. You might also want to add more black pepper. Use your judgment, but as Jerri often reminds me, “You can always add more salt and pepper, but you can’t take them out,” so be cautious.

Serve with good bread or rolls and a salad for a nutritious and healthful dinner.

NOTES: You can turn off the heat under the broth when you remove the hock and finish the soup later. If you are going to serve the soup within three hours, just set the pot in a cool place. If it will be longer than that, refrigerate the broth and bring it back to a boil about an hour and a half before you plan to serve the soup. It is easier to remove the meat from the hock while it is still slightly warm. You can put the chopped meat into the broth before you reheat it.

My mother used pork hocks and ham bones interchangeably when she made soups. She often saved the skin from the ham and simmered it with the bone to add flavor to the soup.

This recipe makes enough soup to serve six to eight hungry diners, but it keeps well for two or three days in the refrigerator. If you want to eat it “nine days old,” store it in the freezer.

Manhattan Meat Rolls

When I was a student at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, the Division of Residence Halls provided housing and dining facilities to thousands of students. I think that anyone who attended UW-Madison in the early 1960’s would agree that the division generally did a pretty good job.

We had maid service once a week to ensure that we slept on clean sheets in rooms that had been swept, dusted and put in some sort of order. I lived in Tripp Hall, along Lake Mendota, directly across the street from Van Hise Hall as the refectory or cafeteria was then named.

The main floor held the kitchen, a private dining room that would seat twenty-five or thirty people and the main dining area with a cafeteria line. On the lower level was the physical plant and a restaurant, the Pine Room. Van Hise served two men’s dormitories, Tripp Hall (where I lived) and Adams Hall, and one women’s dormitory, Slichter Hall. Each hall was was divided into houses or floors with resident counselors who in that long-ago sexist time were all called house fellows.

Van Hise served nearly a thousand students twenty meals a week. Sunday evenings, we were on our own. The Brat House on State Street and Corcoran’s on University Avenue were two of my favorite destinations for Sunday suppers, but friends and I also patronized the Pine Room and the Student Union with occasional forays to more distant supper clubs and restaurants.

House fellow meal passes were valid for twenty-one meals a week, so they did not have to fend for themselves on Sunday evenings. Nor did they have to get up before 9 o’clock Saturday mornings for breakfast in the Van Hise dining room. Their passes entitled them to anything they wanted at the Student Union or the Pine Room.

Since I worked in the Pine Room to help pay for my education, I first saw Jerri, who was a house fellow at Slichter, on one of those Saturday mornings when she and her friends came in after a late night of making sure that the girls were safely back in their rooms. I did not know her name, of course. She was just one of those house fellows who ordered large glasses of apricot nectar to go with their eggs and bacon or sausage (or both!). House fellows could sign for anything they wanted for Saturday breakfast or Sunday supper. One of the men’s house fellows, as I recall, used to have three beef tenderloin sandwiches for his main course every Sunday.

In her second year, Jerri was invited to be the Assistant Head Resident at Elizabeth Waters Hall, probably the finest women’s dormitory on campus. I was very familiar with that hall, since it was famous for having an excellent chef. Residence Halls had a policy that allowed any resident to invite another resident of the opposite sex to Sunday dinner at no charge.

The guest registered ahead of time, so the Van Hise meal ticket, for instance, could be validated for a meal at Elizabeth Waters or vice versa. Menus were posted weekly in every hall, so if a girl read that her hall would be serving something that she did not like on Sunday, she could shop around for a boy whose hall was serving something more to her taste. It was a wonderful system that improved one’s diet and social life.

I was introduced to Jerri by one of the house fellows in Adams Hall after she had moved to Elizabeth Waters. Assistant Head Residents could have guests as well, and so began a wonderful friendship that has lasted for nearly fifty years of wedded bliss.

Unlike the men who simply ate the food set before them, the women of Elizabeth Waters compiled a cookbook of their favorite recipes supplied by their chef who sized them for family meals.

Liz Specials coverI still like the cover.

As you can see, the cookbook has been consulted many times over the years. It contains several recipes that we still use regularly. The recipe for Manhattan Meat Rolls, which were also served at Van Hise, is one I remember fondly. Here is how to make them.

INGREDIENTS:

For the meat filling and sauce:
1 1/2 lbs. lean ground beef
2 cans condensed tomato soup
3 T all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 T chopped fresh parsley
1/2 tsp. herbes de Provence (or 1/8 tsp. each marjoram, rosemary, thyme, and oregano)
Dash of freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup water
1/2 tsp. beef bouillon

For the biscuit dough:
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 T baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1 T sugar
1 cup shortening
Milk to moisten the dry ingredients

PROCEDURE:

Brown the meat in a skillet and drain any extra grease from the pan. Stir in one can of the tomato soup and cook until the soup is blended with the meat. Add the flour and salt and mix well. Continue cooking for about two minutes, stirring continuously. Remove the skillet from the heat and allow the meat filling to cool while you make the dough.

Blend the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Using forks or a pastry blender, cut the shortening into the dry ingredients as if making biscuits. Add enough milk to produce a soft dough. Knead the dough five or six strokes on a floured surface, then divide it in half. Roll each half to a scant half inch thick.

Grease enough baking sheets for two dozen rolls and preheat the oven to 400º.

Spread the meat evenly on the dough and roll the dough into logs. Moisten the outer edge of the dough and seal it to the roll. Shape the logs to the desired roundness. Cut the logs into three quarter inch slices and place the slices one inch apart on the baking sheets. Bake the rolls for about twenty-five minutes or until lightly browned on top.

Make the sauce while the rolls are baking. Wash and finely chop the parsley. Dissolve the bouillon in the water and blend all the ingredients together with the second can of tomato soup in a saucepan over moderate heat. Remove the sauce from the heat when it begins to simmer.

Serve the rolls hot from the oven and allow diners to add sauce if they wish.