New Beginnings & French Onion Soup

The first day of the year, a sprinkling of snow, a fresh notebook on my desk

January 1, 9 am: Today is a holiday, but that hasn’t stopped me from making a long to-do list: Wash the linens and wipe out the fridge, organize my desk, practice guitar, find my acrylic paints and write the first of what I hope will be a full set of 366 (yes six!) entries in my new journal. It would be — no, let’s be definitive and say it will be — the first time in my life I will commit to writing a little something every single day. It doesn’t need to be brilliant, I’ve told myself. Hell, it doesn’t even need to be coherent. On the leaner days, song lyrics, a grocery list, even a looping mantra will suffice. It’s just an exercise or, I guess you could say, a resolution: one journal entry for every day of the year, full stop. Simple? Sure, but certainly not easy. Still, I can’t help but believe if I just show up with my pen every day, something interesting might happen. Generally, I avoid fancy notebooks — too much pressure — but this time I couldn’t resist a linen-covered beauty from Laywines. Or rather, two. (Three hundred and sixty-six are a lot of days.)

4 pm: Check, check, check… stuff is getting done and I’m getting hungry. We were kindly invited out for brunch, but now the short winter day is already beginning to close up around the edges and it’s time to rustle up some supper. New Year’s Day is no time to count on the grocers for inspiration, but I’ve got a brick of Comté in the fridge, a stale baguette, a bag of onions, a leftover bundle of fresh thyme… See where this is going?

My mother made baked French onion soup from time to time—she always emphasized the baked to show it was a bigger deal than just regular soup, which she did not hold in particularly high esteem—and those French onion soup nights were quite the event. Also, yes Mom, delicious. But as far as I’m concerned, French onion soup and its gracious acceptance of stale bread, remnant onions and store-bought stock is almost a convenience food. Gruyere is the classic choice for cheese, but my Comté will work just as well; in a pinch I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend Emmental, Taleggio, Fontina, Gouda, or any combination of these if you, like me, love to gather the odds and ends from the back of the fridge and turn them into something nice.

The one ingredient that isn’t negotiable is patience: In order to perform their magic, the onions need time to sweat, soften, caramelize. But honestly, it’s not a big deal. I sat at the kitchen island with George Saunders’ A Swim in a Pond in the Rain and just wandered over to give my onions a mix whenever George asked one of his thought provoking questions.

5:15 pm: The oven-proof Emile Henry lion’s head soup bowls, for which I registered as a young bride specifically so I could make baked French onion soup, are out of the oven, aromatic and scorching hot, cheese a-bubbling. I have only one problem; not a cooking issue at all but one of light. My limited photography skills sit squarely within the realm of natural lighting, and the sun has just set. My kitchen is way too dark, but are there remains of the day outside? I rush out with my steaming bowl and a French tea towel, place the bowl on the snow-covered outdoor table, wrap it lovingly and snap away as darkness falls.

January 2: 8:45 am: Last night’s photos are shit. I’ve not been shy about saying I’m not into perfection, but honestly, they’re unusable. Off I go, then, to assemble another bowl of soup, take better shots and temp you into making this crazy delicious dish. Then I’m going to have French onion soup for breakfast.

Forgiving French Onion Soup

Serves four

1 tbsp butter

1 tbsp olive oil

3 large onions, cut in half through the root and thinly sliced

1 large shallot, cut in half through the root and thinly sliced

1/2 tsp salt

pinch of sugar

1 tbsp sweet sherry (I happened to have Gonzalez Byass Nectar / Pedro Ximénez in the house but any sweet sherry will do, or even Madeira)

1/4 cup dry red or white wine, leftover is grand

1 litre beef stock, store bought or homemade

1 bay leaf

3 sprigs fresh thyme, leaves only, plus a few stems for garnish, if desired

4-6 slices stale baguette

dash champagne or Prosecco vinegar

more salt and pepper, to taste

1 heaping cupful shredded Gruyere, Comté or other melty cheese

In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat butter with oil until melted. Add onions, shallot and salt. Sweat over medium, stirring often, until translucent. Sprinkle with sugar to encourage caramelization, turn heat down to low and allow to cook, gently stirring now and then, until onions are caramelized; about 45 minutes.

Turn heat up to medium, add sherry and wine and cook, stirring, until mostly evaporated, about five minutes. Add beef stock, bay leaf and thyme. Turn heat to medium low and allow soup to simmer lightly until flavours are amalgamated; about 15 minutes. Toast baguette slices to help them stand up in the soup. (A little sogginess underneath is nice but I like them to retain some crunch.)

Taste soup and adjust seasoning. Now is the time for more salt if you’d like, pepper as your palate demands and that important dash of vinegar. Remove bay leaf, ensure soup is hot and ladle into ovenproof bowls. Float 1 or 2 toasts in each bowl and cover with shredded cheese. Transfer bowls to a baking sheet and broil, not too close to the element, 4-6 minutes or until bubbling and lightly brown.