Long Island Larder: In the Soup

February is the shortest month, right? Then why does it seem to have about three times as many days as June? "See you in April" and "Reopening in Spring" signs are taped to the windows of depressingly empty shops and restaurants all over the South Fork. And even when you find a place whose doughty owners are sticking it out, you find yourself in a crowd of three customers, or uncomfortably aware of being at the only other occupied table in a restaurant.

Maybe it's just the contrast with the overcrowded summer months (which we also complain about) that makes February such a dismal drag for us locals.

So it's the Cooking Season, despite the fact that practically nothing local is "in season." (Except for venison, which I wrote about last month.)

Normally this is a great month for pond skating and, for the braver souls, ice-boating, but, given the wimpy winter we're having, I suppose bird-watching treks are the most strenuous outdoor activities this February.

Even the couch potatoes are having a thin time of it, watching the oddly lifeless Winter Olympics, the events stalled so often by bad weather in Japan that CBS inserts endless dreary "human interest" features showing industrious little Helmut fashioning his first luge out of potato crates.

At any rate the Starr Chamber Follies, hauling every female ever to shake hands with the President before a grand jury, has completely upstaged winter sports events on the tube. Or perhaps this is Kenneth Starr's idea of a winter sport. Indoor Grilling for the Novice? Everybody in the Soup? Last one in is . . . where? In jail?

There can be no month more apropos for constructing slow-simmered, aromatic soups and stews to warm body and soul, heartier-than-usual desserts, and maybe a little bread-making to exercise creativity and the arm muscles.

What better use for the endless hours of this 128-day month than producing something good to eat (after your virtuous daily workout, of course)?

Those who fancy Indian food will immediately recognize this as a souped-up version of the thin puree of dried legumes called dal. But this soup started out as a quick and simplified version of Canadian pea soup, usually made with yellow split peas.

These are easily found in supermarkets. They have a more delicate flavor than the green ones, which in any case wouldn't be so attractive with the amber curry ingredient.

Although the soup can be made in less than an hour (about 10 minutes in a pressure cooker), dried split peas need an overnight in the fridge to thicken and for the flavors to meld.

Curried Split Pea Soup

Makes about 21/2 qts.

1 lb. dried yellow split peas

2 Tbsp. duck or chicken fat, butter, or vegetable oil

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 medium-large onion, finely chopped

2 large stalks celery, peeled and thinly sliced

1 Tbsp. fresh hot curry powder

1 tsp. ground coriander powder

1 tsp. freshly ground white pepper

2 qts. light, degreased chicken broth (cubes or canned will do)

2 cups (approx.) warm water

Fresh minced cilantro or parsley

Wash the peas and rub them together, pouring off the cloudy water. Cover them with fresh tepid water and set aside.

Heat the chosen fat in a deep, preferably non-stick soup pot and stir in the garlic, onion, and celery. Cook, stirring frequently, over low heat, about five minutes. Add the spices; stir to coat the pot vegetables well and cook them a little. Add the chicken broth, bring to a simmer, and add the peas, drained.

Loosely cover and simmer until the peas start to disintegrate, about half an hour - more if the peas are older.

Brisk Legumes

(Aside from having better flavor, dried legumes from the most recent fall harvest will cook faster; thus it is wiser to buy from a high-turnover supermarket than some dim little health food store where they may have been sitting around for years.)

(Of course, if you know of a well regulated health food store where business is brisk, that is often a great place to look for dried legumes, as well as different varieties of rice and other grains that need a sanitary, temperature-controlled environment.)

Ladle Slowly

Taste the soup for seasoning and add salt to taste, or more white pepper or curry powder as you prefer.

An immersion blender is handy to finish the soup, which will already approach a puree. If you haven't got one, use a regular blender, cooling the soup a bit by ladling it in slowly, and do not fill it more than half full. Or use a processor, using the same precautions, as hot liquids tend to explode in these machines.

When all the soup is pureed - I like it a bit on the rough-textured side but others like a very smooth soup - store it in a covered container in a cold place overnight. Reheat, taste for seasoning, and, if it has thickened too much, thin with a little tepid water. Serve in heated bowls garnished with freshly chopped cilantro or parsley.

Bread and cheese, beer or wine, and a hearty fruit dessert make an easy, cheap, and delicious winter meal.

Elaine's Specials

Ah, the old days when even un-famous artists and "mid-list" writers used to hang out at Elaine's in Manhattan eating giant, juicy, veal chops rarely seen by anyone any more!

Critics - and some customers who feel dissed - are forever reviling Elaine's food, but I think it might be because they don't know that no one orders off her regular menu - and that her long-time waiters will offer good advice on the daily specials.

Packages of well-trimmed veal stew meat do turn up in supermarket bins, and make great one-dish meals - forget osso bucco, unless you have access to an Italian butcher.

The lowly rutabaga lends this stew its essential zippy edge, so do not omit it whatever your prejudices might be against the poor root.

Veal, Turnip, And Carrot Stew

Serves four.

1 lb. well-trimmed boneless veal stew meat, in chunks

Flour, salt, pepper

2 Tbsp. olive oil

3 large cloves garlic, minced

1 medium-large onion, chopped

2 cups peeled, cubed rutabaga (about 1-inch diced)

1 bay leaf

3 cups veal and chicken stock, preferably home-made, or concentrated canned chicken stock*

4 large or 8 smallish carrots, peeled, cut in 2-inch lengths

2 Tbsp. tomato paste

1 whole lemon, zest and juice

Cooked long-grain rice mixed with wild rice or cous-cous

1/2 cup freshly minced parsley

1 tsp. freshly ground pepper

Reserved zest from the lemon

*Canned chicken broth can be given body by adding a cracked veal or beef marrow bone, which thickens the stew. Buy some when you spot them in supermarket bins and freeze them for future use.

Rinse, Pat, Shake, Stir

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Rinse the veal and pat dry. Cut any large chunks to match the remainder, if necessary. Put them in a paper bag with about a half-cup unbleached flour, two teaspoons salt, and one teaspoon freshly ground pepper.

Shake well and toss the meat in a colander over the sink to remove excess flour. Heat the olive oil very hot in a heavy oven-to-table casserole, and lightly brown the meat, turning with tongs to brown all sides. (I have an old porcelain-lined iron casserole - LeCrueset - that I use for this type of braised dish).

Add the garlic and onions, stirring down under the meat. Saute gently, about five minutes. Add the rutabaga, tomato paste, bay leaf, and broth, stir well, cover, and place in the middle of the oven.

After 45 minutes, add the carrots, re-cover, and continue braising for about 20 minutes longer.

Strip the zest from the lemon, chop fine, and mix with the parsley and freshly milled pepper. When the veal is very tender, taste for salt; then squeeze in the lemon juice, stir gently, and either sprinkle with the lemon-zest mixture (similar to the gremolata used to top osso bucco) or make rice or cous-cous beds on four hot plates and put servings of the stew in the center, then top with zest mixture.

Dried Fruit Skillet Tart

Dried apple pies were a mainstay dessert of early American cookery when fresh fruit and berries were unobtainable. That is never the case these days, but I like the concentrated sweet/sharp taste of dried fruits. In any case, they're nice to have on hand should the urge to make dessert strike you.

If you don't feel like making pastry, cheat with frozen pie crusts. But you will have to thaw them and turn them into an iron skillet for this homey, free-form tart.

Makes one 8-inch tart.

1/2 cup dried apricots

1/2 cup dried apples

1/2 cup dried, stoned, prunes

1 cup sugar

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp. ground cloves

1/4 tsp. ground mace

2 cups water

Splash of brandy or bourbon

1 large (12-inch) single pastry crust

Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt, softened

Stir In The Spirits

Mix the dried fruits with the sugar and spices and water in a heavy saucepan. Bring to boil, reduce heat, and simmer until the fruit is tender and all the water absorbed, about 20 minutes.

Cool the fruit and stir in the spirits.

Meanwhile, prepare the crust. Use your own favorite recipe or thaw out a frozen crust (the large ones, made for deep-dish pies) or the boxed pastry mix. Chill.

Preheat oven to 400 F.

Roll the crust out to 12 inches or more and arrange it in a buttered iron skillet eight inches in diameter. Fill with the fruit mixture and bring the crust up over it to cover, with about a two-inch perimeter of pastry.

Put it on the center rack and bake 10 minutes, then cover loosely with a sheet of foil to prevent the pie from drying too much. Bake for a total of 30 minutes, removing the foil if necessary to obtain a light golden crust.

Cool about 30 minutes and serve warm from the skillet with one of the suggested toppings.