Skip to main content

Something Light for Dinner

The other night, I was headed to the store for a few groceries, just enough for that evening, and I asked Husband what he'd like for dinner. Something light, was his response, so I drove off with ideas running through my head of what might constitute something light for an evening meal. When you make a meal you consider "something light," what do you choose?

I thought of shrimp with a light sauce or grilled chicken breast with a side salad, but Husband isn't wild about shrimp and chicken. Then I thought of something made with eggs like a frittata, but he doesn't like those either, and I was struggling with the possibilities. By the time I got to the store, I had a plan, though—tomato bisque and grilled cheese.

I already had brie and prosciutto for the sandwiches, so I picked up a small loaf of French bread—fake French, that is, because everything from the bakery department of this store tastes like Wonder Bread and has about the same texture—a large can of crushed tomatoes, and I was set.

A couple of years ago, I found a recipe for tomato bisque online and printed it out, and I have kept this now ratty piece of paper in a stack of similarly ratty pieces of paper wedged in with my cookbooks, but I couldn't find it when I needed it, of course. So, I found another one online that looked familiar and set out to make a few modifications. I didn't want to bother with carrots, and I only wanted to use four cups of broth instead of five, for example. I also didn't want to run the soup through a blender, so I skipped that step, too. I suppose you could argue I then did not make a true bisque because I didn't puree the vegetables, but my version of the soup turned out to be just great whatever you call it, and served with grilled cheese, it made for a light meal.

Let me say here that I know grilled cheese can be heavy, but the versions I make aren't like the grilled cheese of my childhood, or yours, for that matter. I bought a panini grill that crisps the bread just beautifully (don't judge by this photo), and I brush the bread with olive oil before grilling. A thin layer of prosciutto and a bit of brie makes a fine sandwich.

Here is the recipe after my slight modifications:

Tomato "Bisque"

4 tablespoons butter
2 strips bacon, chopped
1 cup onion, diced
2 ribs celery, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
5 tablespoons flour
1 tablespoon dried thyme
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon tomato paste (which I added for richness. Be generous—this measurement is just a guess)
1 can crushed tomatoes (28 oz)
4 cups chicken broth
1 cup heavy cream

In a large pot, melt butter and cook bacon until crispy. With a slotted spoon, removed bacon and drain on paper towel. Add onion, celery and garlic to the pot and cook on medium heat for 7 to 8 minutes or until soft. Stir in flour, seasonings and tomato paste and cook 2 to 3 minutes.

Add tomatoes and broth and whisk until smooth. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and whisk in heavy cream. Add salt and pepper according to taste. Garnish with cooked bacon.

Comments

dive said…
Yummy!
savannah said…
i am so going to make this for supper today! i have a le creuset panini press and skillet grill that makes the absolute best sandwiches. i thank you and so does the MITM! xoxoxox
Shan said…
Man, I am hungry. Most days (aside from the dreaded seafood ones-haha), I'd rather be eating at your house! You make the yummiest things!

(Sorry I've been MIA, lately.)

Popular posts from this blog

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

Ish People

Tell an Ish person to show up around 9 a.m., and you'll see them somewhere around 9 a.m. Tell them to show up at 9ish, and you'll see them anywhere from 9:05 to 9:20. You have given them license to dilly dally, and who wouldn't take advantage of that? The other night at the big shindig dinner party, one of the drummers said the rehearsal the next morning would begin at 9ish. "I am an ish person," he says. Immediately the clanker goes off in my head--oh, good, I thought. I can deliver my daughter a little late. No Ish person is early, so if you say 9ish, that does not mean give or take 5, 10, 15 minutes. It's exclusively a taking phrase. Take an extra 10 minutes to drink your cup of coffee. We won't mind. We're Ish people. Sunday's rehearsal started at 2:00. Because it was conducted by the same people who conducted the Saturday rehearsal, my understanding was 2-ISH. My daughter is worse than I am about taking liberties with Ish time frames, so she d...

Long Live Anita Bowser

You know I occasionally check my hometown newspaper's website to scan the obituaries (morbid, I know, but I'm at that age). Over this past weekend, I read the obituary of Indiana State Senator Anita Bowser . She was a noted Democrat who championed causes protecting the neediest in the state's population. She was respected on both sides of the aisle for her intelligence and plain and outspoken approach to law making. The picture on her senate page is lovely. I remember none of those things about Anita Bowser . My first year or so in college was spent at a branch of Purdue University, and in the early 80s, Anita was a political science professor. She taught my American Government class my freshman year, and she was a mess. Somewhere in my old text book, I have a sketch of her drawn on a particularly dull day in class--her hose sagged at her ankles, her slip showed at least half an inch all the way around, her hair had been slept on but not brushed, and her bright red lip stic...