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Why Root Vegetables Suit a Chilly Evening

There is a particular kind of hunger that only turns up after a long walk in cold weather. Mud on the boots, a chill in the fingers, the light already going at half past four — and the knowledge that something is waiting in the kitchen. Root vegetables are made for that moment. They are sweet, sturdy, cheap, and they keep for weeks in a cool shed or a dark corner of the garage, which means a well-stocked gardener rarely has an excuse for an empty pot.

Carrots lifted in October taste different from anything bought in a plastic bag. Parsnips are sweeter after a frost, as the cold turns their starch to sugar. Celeriac, swede, Jerusalem artichokes, beetroot, leeks and maincrop potatoes will all sit quietly until needed. Add a good stock and a handful of herbs from the garden and you have supper that costs very little and comforts a great deal.

What follows is not a set of rigid recipes but a way of working. Once you understand the method, you can make soup from whatever the plot or the vegetable rack offers.

The Stock Comes First

A soup is only ever as good as the liquid beneath it. Water will do at a push, but a proper stock turns a humble pan of roots into something that tastes as though it has been simmered for a day. If you roast a chicken on Sunday, keep the carcass. If you cook a ham, keep the liquor. Bones, skin, a few peppercorns and a bay leaf will give you a rich, gelatinous base that sets to a wobble in the fridge — the sign of a good one.

• Chicken or game stock: simmer gently for three hours, never at a hard boil, and skim the surface now and then.
• Ham or bacon stock: brilliant with split peas, barley or a pan of leeks and potatoes. Taste before seasoning, as it will already be salty.
• Vegetable stock: keep a bag in the freezer and add mushroom stalks, celery tops, onion skins, carrot peelings and herb stems as you cook.
• Roast your bones first for twenty minutes with an onion and a carrot, and the finished stock will be darker and deeper.

Strain it, cool it quickly, and freeze in litre tubs. A freezer full of stock is the quiet foundation of a whole winter's cooking.

A Dependable Root Vegetable Soup

This is the one to learn by heart, because it takes whatever you have. Begin with a large knob of butter and a tablespoon of oil in a heavy pan. Soften two sliced onions, three leeks and a stick or two of celery over a low heat with the lid on for fifteen minutes, until everything is slippery and sweet but not coloured. Stir in a teaspoon of thyme leaves, a crushed clove of garlic and a generous grating of nutmeg.

Then add roughly 700g of prepared roots — carrot, parsnip, celeriac, swede, potato, a little turnip — cut into even chunks about the size of a walnut. Turn them in the butter for a minute or two, pour over 1.2 litres of hot stock, tuck in a bay leaf, and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook for twenty-five to thirty minutes, until a knife slides through the largest piece without resistance.

Now decide on the texture. Blitz half the pan and stir it back for a soup with body but still some bite, or blend it completely smooth for something more elegant. A potato or a handful of pearl barley will thicken it naturally, so there is rarely any need for flour. Season at the very end, off the heat, with salt, black pepper and a few drops of lemon juice or a dash of cider vinegar — that little sharpness is what makes people ask what you put in it.

Herbs from the Garden, Even in January

Few things lift a winter soup like something green and fragrant from your own patch. Woody herbs stand up to long cooking and should go in early; soft herbs are best stirred through at the end or scattered over the bowl.

• Thyme and rosemary: a sprig or two tied with string, fished out before serving.
• Bay: a single leaf, dried or fresh, in almost any vegetable soup.
• Winter savoury: an old cottage-garden herb that sits beautifully with beans and root vegetables.
• Parsley and lovage: chopped finely and added just before serving. Lovage is strong, so use a leaf or two rather than a handful.
• Chives: grown on a windowsill, they will keep you in green through the darkest weeks.

Something Extra: Ham, Barley and Pulses

If you want a soup that counts as a meal, add substance. A ham hock simmered gently for two hours in the stock, then shredded and returned to the pan with leeks, potatoes and pearl barley, is one of the great British suppers. Soaked split peas cooked with a carrot, an onion and a bone make a thick, golden potage that needs nothing but bread.

Pearl barley, red lentils and dried beans all thicken as they cook, so add more stock than you think you need and stir often, as they have a habit of catching on the base of the pan.

Finishing and Keeping

Finish each bowl with a swirl of cream or crème fraîche, a spoon of yoghurt, a scattering of toasted pumpkin seeds, or cubes of bread fried in a little butter and thyme. A crumbled cheese scone or a thick slice of buttered granary loaf on the side is all the rest it needs.

Cool any leftovers quickly, spread out in a shallow dish rather than left in the pan, then freeze in portions. Flat freezer bags stack neatly and thaw in minutes. Reheat gently, taste again for seasoning, and add a splash of stock or water if it has thickened overnight.

Come February, when the ground is hard and the evenings still long, a pan of soup made from your own roots, your own herbs and a stock you bothered to make is one of the plainest pleasures of country living.