Watercress and Potato Soup (Potage Cressoniere)
Posted on 29 August 2012
I like mid-century style.
I suspect that Matt’s interior design style used to be far more traditional. I’m assuming it was all dark wood, rolled arms, and overstuffed cushions. Under my (per Sproost) “modern elegance” tutelage, his taste shifted toward the sleek and modern. So much so that I influenced him to buy a chrome Space Age spotlight lamp a few weeks ago.
I’m powerful like that.
There was no question we would go. Not only was there a pageant (Miss Modernism) with costumes!!!, but also shopping galore. Bonus: it was at the National Western Complex, home of the National Western Stock Show, a long-time Denver tradition.
Within 10 minutes of entering the show, I found myself standing right next to Miss Modernism 2010. I (mostly) successfully resisted the urge to squeal.
I was not similarly successful, however, as we browsed the booths. Space age-inspired chairs. Hooray! Silver-rimmed cocktail sets, just like I’ve always wanted. Squee! Rad punchbowls. Woo-hoo! A mint condition projector (that, despite its multi-hundred dollar price tag, I nearly broke down and bought). YES!
Exhilarated, I hurried home to scour Amanda Hesser’s distillation of The New York Times food archive for a suitably mid-century dish with which to commemorate the show. Initially, the horror of jello, jello molds, and other gelatinous substances overwhelmed. That is until I stumbled on this lovely potage — with watercress, no less.
Not surprisingly, I made some slight modifications. In lieu of whole milk, I used skim. For cream, half and half. In fact, I almost omitted the yolks and half and half altogether for fear of the fat, but they lent a lovely silkiness to the finished product.
Perhaps more importantly, I broke out 2 of my favorite kitchen tools: the immersion blender (instead of the food mill) and the mandoline (and nearly sliced off half my thumb).
We sopped up the potage with Matt’s tomato and roasted garlic bruschetta.
I’m becoming fancy and French in my old age.
Adapted from The Essential New York Times Cookbook