The Holy Grail of Soups - Tomato-Cheese, Part 2

The plot thickens, my friends. More than a year ago, I posted about my ongoing quest to find the recipe for the tomato soup served in Eugene, Oregon's Glenwood Cafe.

The soup is tangy and perfectly seasoned, but its mystery lies in its shredded cheese - which never melts, no matter how hot the soup.

Just a few weeks ago, a new comment appeared on that post. Seems someone else was sleuthing for the recipe and found my blog. She had a hot tip to share. Had I tried soaking the cheese in vinegar first? It is known to change the structure (proteins, reportedly) of the cheese and keep it from melting.

And so, I tried. I grated some Tillamook cheddar, put it into a bowl and covered it with apple cider vinegar in the morning. And then I waited. After work, I tasted a few shreds. Bouncier - more like cheese curds. Hmm.

I also wanted to experiment with this recipe for tomato soup, which I'm sure is fabulous if done correctly, but which I proceeded to alter (no chicken stock, no cream) and burn (as I worked on laundry and talked to my friend on the phone. Not a good combo).

But the cheese - it held its shape! I stirred it in to the pot about 10 minutes before serving, cranked the heat to medium (Not for more char taste, but to test the vinegar-cheese theory). And it worked! Even today, after reheating in the microwave for 2 minutes, the shreds stay intact.

This may be the trick. However, the soup tasted very vinegary. I'm not sure if this was due to the vinegar-soaked cheese. Next time I will try sweeter balsamic, as the comment suggested. But I had also stirred a couple Tbsp of balsamic vinegar in to the soup pot to counteract the burned taste...could be the culprit.

But, we may be on to something, so stay tuned! And send recipes for tomato-basil soups you think I should try as my base, if you would...Thanks!

The Holy Grail of Soups

From the very first time I visited Eugene, OR on my college-scouting mission, I knew I'd end up in school there. Sure, the town was cute and not too far from home. Yes, I had family living there, which made it feel not so lonely. The college itself was pretty great as well. But it was the tomato-cheese soup that sealed the deal.

Just off campus from the U. of Oregon sits an inconspicuous old home converted into a restaurant, sandwiched between a sorority house and a 7-11. It's really unassuming, yet is always jam-packed with students and town-dwellers waiting in line for a seat while discussing the latest Ducks game, or crowding around a table full of coffee-cups and intense, eager-freshman existential debate.

To be frank, alot of the food is quite mediocre. It gets the job done -- relatively cheaply and with large portions to boot. But overall, most of us could whip up a garden burger slathered in avocado and mayo, or a scramble of sun dried tomatoes/feta/and spinach.

But that tomato-cheese soup, oh my! It seems so simple - a tangy tomato base flecked with ribbons of basil or an occasional whole bay leaf. There's a tinge of fresh-pureed-tomato texture, though it's not at all what I'd call chunky. Except for the strips of cheese, this soup doesn't have a lot of texture. Yes, the cheese has a toothsome bite - it doesn't go all melty once it hits the hot soup. This fact -- that cheese -- kept me up at night for many an evening in Eugene (well, that and the 20-course-hour load of homework and a healthy tendency toward being a night owl). How does it stay intact?

Last weekend, my guy and I took a roadtrip back to Eugene to watch the Ducks vs the Utes and drum up a little nostalgia. We met up with another alumna friend of mine for the game as well as a post-victory stop at the Glenwood. (We actually went for breakfast, too, but I didn't get my soup so had to hit up the cafe again before leaving town.) The same mystery prevailed: That darn cheese was not melted. It swam daintily alongside the herbs in a pool of tomato bliss. In shreds.

It's driving me crazy.

So, I am taking the mystery to the blogosphere. If anyone out there can help me sort out this quandary -- better yet, provide me with the recipe, I may actually, finally get some sleep.