For this family recipe, too many cooks were just enough

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Karen Norris/Staff
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I come from a family of excellent cooks. My father favored bay leaves, garlic, Kitchen Bouquet sauce, and Lawry’s seasoned salt in his roast beef. Mom sliced in onions, celery, carrots, and potatoes.

We raised cattle and had generous roasts to feed our family of 11, with enough for a big pot of leftover soup the next day.

Why We Wrote This

Who says you can’t improve a time-honored tradition with well-chosen advice?

Tomatoes, green beans, and corn – as well as the vegetables cooked with the roast – filled a large pot. It simmered all day, filling the kitchen with mouthwatering steam.   

But as a cooking instructor told me, “Recipes are only a jumping-off place.” 

I married into a Southern family, and okra soon found its way into the soup. A TV cooking show suggested Worcestershire sauce. When we moved to Missouri, a new neighbor said cabbage was key. A fellow chef suggested a little sugar to offset the tomatoes’ acid. A college friend who lived in Spain added soy sauce. 

And so my soup now reflects a chronology of friends, experiences, and places in my life. Each time I make it, I relive the memory of each ingredient, and how I was inspired to grow my soup.

Click the deep read button for the recipe.

I come from a family of excellent cooks, one of whom was my father. Our German heritage influenced the flavors of their creations, starting with my dad. He favored aromatic bay leaves, an abundance of garlic, Kitchen Bouquet sauce, and Lawry’s seasoned salt in his roast beef. Mom always sliced in fresh onions, celery, carrots, and potatoes to round out the meal.

We lived on a Kansas farm and raised beef cattle. We had generous roasts to feed our family of 11. Mom made sure to cook enough meat to make a big pot of leftover soup the next day.

Homegrown tomatoes, green beans, and corn – in addition to the vegetables cooked with the original roast – filled a large graniteware pot. A low flame kept the soup simmering all day. Mouthwatering steam filled the kitchen with a promise of a magnificent supper. My job was to keep a watchful eye on the soup and stir it often. 

Why We Wrote This

Who says you can’t improve a time-honored tradition with well-chosen advice?

We received large quantities of government-supplied commodity foods at my elementary school in the 1950s, including blocks of yellow cheese. Our cooks found inventive ways to use them up.

Our lunchtime vegetable beef soup, for example, was topped with a generous slice of cheese. I liked the combination and always topped off my soup with a piece of cheddar cheese when I served it to my family.

One of my cooking instructors in college said, “Recipes are only a jumping-off place. You should add your personal touches to the dishes you create.” That helps explain the evolution of my recipe for vegetable beef soup.

I married into a Southern family, and fresh sliced okra soon found its way into the soup. Then a TV cooking show encouraged me to add Worcestershire sauce to beef dishes. So I did. When we moved to Missouri, a new neighbor stopped by to see if I had any cabbage she could use to finish making supper.

“Vegetable beef soup just isn’t right without it,” she said. Once I tried it, I knew what she meant. My soup grew ever larger, and so did my soup pot.

Years later, I was manager of a small institutional kitchen. My lead cook’s vegetable beef soup had a slightly different taste. The tomatoes weren’t as strong.

“I always toss in a couple of heaping teaspoons of sugar – brown sugar if I have it,” she explained. “It mellows the acid in the tomatoes.” I’ve mellowed mine this way ever since.

A college friend lived in Spain when we lived in Germany for a few years, and she and her family came for a visit. We were cooking dinner together, my soup of course, when she opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of soy sauce.

“I never thought about putting this in vegetable beef soup until I moved to Spain,” she said. “They put it in their meat dishes. It enhances the flavor.”

She sprinkled some in, and I knew I had an addition to my list of ingredients.

And that’s how the character of my soup has evolved. It reflects a chronology of friends, experiences, and places in my life. Each time I make it, I relive the memory of each ingredient, and how I was inspired to grow my soup. 

Vegetable beef soup recipe

Yield: about 4 quarts 

Ingredients: 

2 cups shredded, cooked pot roast (or more
if desired)

Two (14 ½ ounces) cans of tomatoes, with juice [our tester used peeled, whole plum tomatoes] 

3 tablespoons beef bouillon

1 can (14 ½ ounces) of green beans, drained

1 ½ cups coarsely chopped cabbage

1 large onion, chopped

1 cup chopped celery

1 cup frozen corn

1 ½ cup sliced carrots

2 medium potatoes, chopped

2 cups frozen or fresh okra, sliced 

3 medium bay leaves

1 heaping tablespoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 tablespoon brown sugar

2 teaspoons Lawry’s seasoned salt

1 tablespoon Kitchen Bouquet browning and seasoning sauce [our tester substituted 1 tablespoon Crock-Pot hearty beef stew seasoning mix] 

8 cups water or more, depending on consistency desired

Additional cut-up or leftover vegetables to taste

Slices of cheddar cheese, for topping

Instructions

1. Put all the ingredients except the cheese
in a large (4 quarts or larger) stockpot.

2. Simmer for 3 hours or until vegetables are tender, stirring occasionally. You can also put it in a slow cooker for 8 hours on the low setting. 

3. Remove bay leaves. Serve soup piping hot with a thick slice of cheddar cheese on top. This soup freezes well.

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