Then There Was Soup

After the feast. And after its instant replay. After round two of leftover night, which was always heavier on the dark meat, lighter on the stuffing. When the carcass could no longer produce an open faced turkey sandwich. Then came the soup.

You knew it was soup day as soon as the stock reached a simmer. The heavenly aromas filled the house from the basement to the attic as the rolling water sucked the remaining flavors from the turkey and as the meat fell from the bones. My dad would take out every leftover and every suitable ingredient that the kitchen held and line them up on the counter, priming them to make their bold entrance into the pot.

Every year, my Dad tried to trump last year's melded masterpiece using a different combination of Tupperware clad remains - legend has it there was even a year when he added the cranberries to round out the soup's bouquet.

When the soup was declared finished, after a day's worth of brewing, we would sit down to five piping hot bowls, paired with five grilled cheese sandwiches, and the rest - gallons worth sometimes - would be frozen. There were years when we were thawing and eating turkey soup into the fall. The perfect antidote to the first chilly day of the season.

This year, to keep the holiday soup making tradition alive in Illinois; after rounds one and two of our prime feast, I started sifting through soup recipes. Because we exchanged fowl for roast beast at our Christmas gathering, we had a different variety of stock bones to throw in the pot. I also have a husband who had been asking me to make beef pho for awhile - a craving that he was driving to Wheaton to fulfill. So after some research, I started cooking.

To be fair to the leftover process, I didn't go the store for additional ingredients - I used what was in the house. And luckily, we had just about everything. Including a little turkey for tradition's sake.

I believe the end product would have made the Vietnamese chefs of Wheaton proud. Peter liked it so much that he has practically been living on the soup for three days now. There was a slight pause for cousin Joe's first birthday party the other night, but pho truly reigned in my kitchen all weekend.

The stock dried up last night. I wasn't fast enough to freeze any. So until next year's feast, the soup is retired. And with it, the leftovers from Christmas.

Lo.

LePHOver

Ingredients: 
Stock:
Rib bones from 7-8 pound prime rib
4-5 quart stock pot filled with water
3 celery ribs
2 carrots chopped
4 cloves of garlic
1 small yellow onion
8 whole cloves
1/2 teaspoon anise seed
2 teaspoons ginger (I didn't have fresh ginger in the house - would use fresh next time)
Salt
Meat from the fattier, more tender parts of the prime rib

Add ins:
Pho rice noodles
Meat from the rarest part of the leftover prime rib, thinly sliced
Napa cabbage, thinly sliced
Bean sprouts
Thai chili pepper, thinly sliced
Portabello mushrooms, thinly sliced
Siracha
Scallions, sliced
Cilantro
Basil
Lime wedges

Directions: 
In a large stock pot, bring water to boil with rib bones. Add celery, carrots, onion and garlic. Reduce heat and maintain a low rolling boil for an hour and a half. Add spices and small pieces of the fattier meat from the leftover prime rib. Add a generous amount of salt and continue to simmer for another hour and a half.

Remove from heat and strain through a cheese cloth, tossing all solid remains except some of the tender meat. Add that back into the stock. Either return stock to heat and simmer to serve immediately, or refrigerate or freeze for later.

To serve: prepare noodles by boiling water and submerging noodles for 10-20 seconds. Place noodles in large bowl. Add hot stock over noodles. Add a variety of accouterments to make your pho your own. We found success in Napa Cabbage, mushrooms, meat, Thai chili peppers, and scallions. Next time, after going to the store, I would definitely add the basil, which Peter says makes it more authentic to the Wheaton region of Vietnam.