It’s easier to make vichyssoise than say it

The Seattle Times

The name is the fanciest thing about this summertime soup, and you don’t even say it the fanciest way.

Vee-she-swah usually the way to go when it comes to French — is, in this case, incorrect. It’s vee-sheswaazz. After I said it recently, a friend of mine pointedly went with the – swah, clearly to kindly demonstrate the error of my ways. I just let her do it. Life’s too short for pronunciation-shaming, and summer’s way too short. Plus it’s only soup.

The French “vichyssoise” also sounds approximately 17 times better than “cold potato-leek soup,” and that is apt, for cold potato-leek soup is approximately 17 times better than it sounds. But even its Frenchiness is a little bit fudged — in “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” Julia Child rather tersely points out, “This is an American invention.”

A Talk of the Town profile from The New Yorker, vintage 1950, details that vichyssoise was the idea of Louis Diat, “the celebrated chef” of the Ritz. While he himself was French (and vividly so, “a mustached man of 65 with curly gray hair and large, black, bushy eyebrows”), he originated the soup on the hotel’s New York City premises in 1917.

Having recalled that in his childhood summers, he and his brother would pour cold milk into the potatoleek soup his mother and grandmother made, and how very good the result was, he decided to make the patrons of the Ritz such a French country treat. The ritzy types loved vichyssoise so much that in 1923,

Mr. Diat yielded to their demands to keep it onmenu not just during New York’s sweltering season, but throughout the year. Het grew up near Vichy — hence, the name.

You will have a lot of leftover leek here! If you aren’t insistent on pure whiteness with your vichyssoise, you can make a second batch using the lightgreen part of the leeks. 3 tablespoons butter 4 large leeks, white part only, thinly sliced (about 2 cups)

1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for seasoning leeks

3 cups potato, peeled and thinly sliced

1 quart chicken or vegetable stock ½ cup heavy cream ½ teaspoon white pepper

The New Yorker notes that vichyssoise, in its heyday, was a soup for the stars. Steel magnate Charles M. Schwab “ordered it the first day it was on the menu, and asked for a second helping.” President Franklin Roosevelt’s mother, who’d also apparently deeply enjoyed vichyssoise at the Ritz, “once called me up at 5 in the afternoon and asked me to send eight portions to her house,” Mr. Diat told The New Yorker. He sent her two quarts and the recipe.

Ms. Roosevelt’s cook must’ve been relieved, for vichyssoise is ridiculously

Few tablespoons chives, finely chopped

Melt butter in a large pot over medium-low heat. Add sliced leeks, sprinkle with a little salt and cook for about 4 to 5 minutes, stirring once a minute or so, just to soften; you don’t want them to brown.

Add sliced potato and chicken (or vegetable) stock, stir to combine and bring just barely to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer for 45 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes.

Blend with immersion blender until smooth.

Stir in cream, salt and white pepper, and chill until cold.

Top each bowl with chopped chives.

Serves 4. of easy to make. With a minimum of ingredients and an extremely straightforward preparation process, it makes gazpacho look like a foray into molecular gastronomy. You can make it more complicated.

Mr. Diat’s recipe calls for onion in addition to the leeks, while both he and Ms. Child insist that you shove the soup through a sieve in addition to blending it, to achieve ultimate smoothness. With all due respect, the delicate allium of the leeks should be appreciated without any pushy cousin’s company, and the eating-interest is boosted by leaving some smaller bits of potato slice intact.

Some would ominously warn you that with soup this simple, your ingredients have nowhere to hide, so you best use homemade stock and et cetera. I’m here to tell you that it is probably impossible to make bad vichyssoise, and also, who wants to make stock in the summertime?

Make your vichyssoise when the kitchen’s relatively cool, after sundown or in the morning. You will thank yourself later in the day — a cup or a small bowl is both perfectly cooling and gently filling when it’s really too hot to eat. Vichyssoise plus a crab or shrimp salad and a glass of crisp French white wine, maybe picpoul — this is what a summer lunch or supper wants to be.

If you have vichyssoise leftovers, you will find yourself going to the fridge late at night for a cool spoonful.