Perhaps we've always believed that wild mushrooms have an aphrodisiac as well as a medicinal quality, but it was certainly reaffirming to discover Isabel Allende's Reconciliation Soup and to read her testiment to the miracle of mushrooms in Aphrodite, in which she offered this thought:
The creation of this soup was a matter not of chance, but of necessity. It is a practically infallible aphrodisiac that I always fix after some terrible fight, a flag of truce that allows me to make peace without humiliating myself too greatly.
That's quite a declaration! Thankfully, we've not had to test the recipe for its reconciliation or aphrodisiac qualities ... not yet, thank goodness. If, and when, we do, we'll be sure to update this post!
Please note that we've left Ms. Allende's personal comments in the recipe that we've copied and pasted below, believing that they are an integral part of the myth and mystery that comes with the presentation and will enhance our dear reader's understanding of the soup's mission.
The pond at New River is without doubt a most romantic spot.
Isabel Allende's Reconciliation Soup
1/2 cup chopped portobello mushrooms
1/2 cup chopped fresh porcini mushrooms
1 cup cremini mushrooms
1 clove garlic
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 cups stock (beef, chicken or vegetable)
1/4 cup port
1 tablespoon truffle-flavored olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons sour cream
If you can't find fresh mushrooms and must use the dried ones, soak them in 1/2 cup of good red wine until they spring up happily; in the meantime, while they're soaking, I calmly drink the remainder of the wine.
Then I mince the garlic clove for the pure pleasure of smelling my fingers, because I could just as easily use it whole, and then saute it with the mushrooms in the olive oil, stirring vigorously for a few minutes -- I've never counted, but let's say five.
I add the stock, the port and the truffled olive oil -- not quite all of it, I leave a couple of drops to dab behind my ears; let's not forget, it's aphrodisiac.
I season with salt and pepper, and cook over low heat with the lid on until the mushrooms are soft and the house smells like heaven.
The last step is to process the soup in the blender; this is the least poetic part of the preparation but unavoidable. The soup should end up with a slightly thick texture, like mud, with a perfume that makes you salivate and awakens other secretions of body and soul.
I put on my best dress, paint my fingernails red, and serve the soup in warmed bowls, garnished with a dollop of the sour cream.