And let's be clear: It's not enough just to limit ads for foods that aren't healthy. It's also going to be critical to increase marketing for foods that are healthy.
Michelle Obama
Any change in form produces a fear of change, and that has accelerated. Marketing is the death of invention, because marketing deals with the familiar.
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ONE SUMMER, TO CELEBRATE my 50th birthday, we rented a villa outside Lucignano, Italy with our good friends, the Pattersons. It was called Villa Sara, and I had no expectation other than it would be in Tuscany, and there was a pool so my son would be happy.
We were all happy. From my three small bedroom windows each about the size of a shoebox, I could see a real-life landscape rising before me and at the top, a Medieval hill town. If you exited our front door, walked down the drive, turned right and hiked up the hill, you reached Lucignano.
Along the way you would pass green-gold grapes in the vineyards, silvery olive trees that rustled in the breeze, and maize-colored houses and apartments, each with a burnished terracotta roof. Cypress trees poked like tall pencils into a deep blue sky.
Lucignano was quaint with few tourists, mostly older residents, like the men who gathered for a game of cards and coffee on the square. If you went out to dinner, you’d better plan on spending the evening. Nothing was rushed. And children came along for dinner no matter the hour. There were no iPads, no babysitters to whisk them away, they just nibbled bread sticks while waiting on pasta and then gelato, and then came the walk back home fortunately, down the hill...
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A homemade version of Panera‘s Creamy Tomato Soup. Photos: Susan Puckett
I’m passing the saucepan this week to my longtime newspaper colleague Susan Puckett. You might remember her from the Schaum Torte a couple years ago? She’s been telling me about a wonderful tomato soup she simmered up after learning about her mother’s obsession with Panera tomato soup. It’s made with basic pantry ingredients and offers bright bold flavor and color on cold February days. Hope you enjoy the story and recipe! - Anne
By Susan Puckett
DAYS BEFORE THE RECENT WINTER storm wreaked havoc through the South, I called my mom to see if she needed anything from the outside world should the roads turn to ice.
“Not that I can think of, dear,” she said. “As long as I have my soup.”
Panera Creamy Tomato Soup to be precise. “Vine-ripened pear tomatoes pureed with fresh cream for a velvety smooth flavor accented by hints of red pepper and oregano and topped with black pepper and sea salt croutons,” as it is described on Panera’s website.
She’s been eating it almost daily for months, ever since I spotted it in the deli section of the grocery store and brought her that first container. She’s become such a huge fan, our family teases her that she should become its national spokeswoman.
“The taste is spectacular — just like homemade!” she declares. Plus, the plastic covering is easy to open — a big deal for arthritic joints.
I’ve tried to tempt her with other varieties—Chicken Tortilla, Broccoli Cheddar, Lobster Bisque.
Mama—Nancy Puckett—sampling goodies at the New Orleans Roadfood Festival in 2014.
Mama’s almost 91 and has always been a longtime supporter of my food writing career. She’s loved tagging along with me on dining escapades, being a guinea pig for cooking experiments, and pitching in with holiday meals and dinner parties.
She came along on my book tours through Mississippi, where we lived when I was growing up. In promoting my 2013 cookbook/travelogue, Eat Drink Delta: A Hungry Traveler’s Journey Through the Soul of the South, she chatted up attendees and helped me prep chocolate chess pies for TV demos. And she’s told me countless times it was one of the most thrilling experiences of her life.
Blessed with no health issues other than the usual aches and pains that come with age, Mama keeps up with family and current events. She excels at Wordle. But there’s limited space in her efficiency apartment, which makes meal assembly a challenge.
Thus her love of Panera tomato soup and a good grilled cheese sandwich.
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Americans’ longstanding affinity with the combo of tomato soup and cheese sandwich is well documented through history.
Eliza Leslie included several recipes for tomato soup in her 1857 classic, Miss Leslie’s New Cookery Cookbook. And tomato was among the first flavors of condensed soups Joseph Campbell rolled out just before the turn of the 20th century. It eventually became a top-10 shelf-stable grocery store item.
During World War II, tomato soup was served alongside a griddled sandwich made with a newly patented processed “American” cheese and became the practical, economical staple of mess halls and school cafeterias.
Between the frigid weather, tomato soup research, and my mom’s exhortations, I was now craving tomato soup, but not from Panera—homemade.
I decided to make a batch that bested Panera’s and invite Mama over to be the judge of the two.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” she said when I told her my plan. “I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings. I don’t see how you could make it any better.”
I assured her I would brace myself for an honest assessment.
Before I searched for copycat “Panera Creamy Tomato Soup” recipes online, I bought a container of it to try for comparison.
Most copycat recipes vary only slightly and adhere closely to the ingredients on the package: tomatoes, heavy cream, onions, sugar, garlic, olive oil, spices. I also turned to one of my favorite cookbooks, Simply Tomato, by Martha Holmberg, for inspiration.
Martha’s version of the classic is elevated with a hefty dose of fresh basil along with a carrot and a touch of ginger for complexity, which I loved.
She also offers brilliant suggestions for embellishment that I couldn’t resist trying like homemade sourdough croutons coated in olive oil and lots of Parmigiana-Reggiano cheese.
Fortify tomato soup with hearty white beans, chunks of sausage, and spinach.
I blended elements from all the recipes and tinkered until I felt I’d nailed it. My husband and I tasted a small cup of my soup alongside one of Panera’s, and his review was this:
“Panera’s is actually pretty good,” Ralph said, but “pales in comparison to yours.” We proceeded to scarf down big steamy bowls topped with Martha’s addictive cheesy croutons and grilled cheese sandwiches, then stuck the rest of the soup in the freezer.
The next week when the weather warmed up a bit, we brought Mama over for the final verdict. I asked her to taste my soup plain first and then with some garnishes.
“I can’t believe it!” she said, slurping down the first spoonful. “Yours is even better than Panera’s!”
She went on to clean her bowl. I couldn’t ask for a higher compliment.
Homemade tomato soup is fabulous plain or with add-ins and embellishments.
Of the 17 soup choices offered by Panera Bread, tomato ranks number three behind broccoli cheddar and chicken noodle.
But tomato soup—whether homemade or Panera’s—has something to offer that most other soups don’t. Versatility.
Mama reminds me of this when, along with her usual grocery requests, she adds salsa, pesto, and blends of shredded cheeses to her list.
“I like to stir them into my tomato soup to give it a different flavor. Every day, I think about what I’m going to do with my soup. It’s like my new hobby!”
As she talks, I realize that for Mama, a humble container of pre-made soup is more than a convenient meal solution. It’s a bright, blank canvas to spark cooking creativity that’s faded over time.
Could it be that tomato soup, not chicken, is the true elixir of our souls?
What’s your take on tomato soup? Are you Panera or homemade?
A note from Anne: I said I wouldn’t mention the-ice-storm-that-shall-not-be-named again, but honestly, how can you move on when driving down any street in Nashville, you see the memories piled up. Brush, fallen limbs, and decapitated trees have been dragged to the street ready for city pickup and mulching. It’s been such a distraction that I nearly forgot today is Mardi Gras! So from the archives, paid subscribers can access two of my Fat Tuesday favorites, how to make authentic red beans and rice and the formula for the best Dutch baby (oven pancake). Laissez les bons temps rouler!
This belly-warming recipe conjures the cozy memories you may recall from childhood but elevates it several notches. It’s not quite as easy as opening a can or to-go container, but, rest assured, the extra time will be well spent. Serve the soup as is or fortify it as I did with cheese-crusted croutons, white beans, seared and sliced Italian sausages, or fresh basil or spinach leaves. For a vegan version, add more olive oil in lieu of butter, use vegetable stock, and swap coconut milk for the cream. The croutons recipe is adapted from Simply Tomato, by Martha Holmberg (Artisan, 2023). To make it vegan, substitute nutritional yeast for the Parmesan.
Makes about 2 quarts (6 to 8 servings)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 medium yellow onion, coarsely chopped
1 medium carrot, peeled and coarsely chopped
Salt and black pepper
1 tablespoon minced garlic (3 or 4 cloves)
1 teaspoon minced or grated fresh ginger
Pinch red pepper flakes
2 (28-ounce) cans San Marzano tomatoes, undrained
2 cups vegetable or chicken broth
½ cup coarsely chopped fresh basil leaves (plus extra leaves for garnish)
2 or 3 sprigs fresh thyme or ½ teaspoon dried thyme
2 to 3 teaspoons sugar
1/2 cup heavy cream, or to taste (plus extra for garnish)
Parmigiana Croutons (recipe follows)
Heat the olive oil and butter in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat until the butter is melted.
Add the onion and carrot, along with ½ teaspoon of salt and a few grinds of pepper; cook and stir until the onion is translucent and very soft, but not browned, reducing the heat slightly, if necessary, about 8 to 10 minutes.
Add the garlic, ginger, and red pepper flakes and cook and stir until softened but not browned, a minute or two longer.
Add the tomatoes with their juices, breaking them up with a wooden spoon, then add the broth, and the basil and thyme. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a gentle simmer, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes are fall-apart tender and the soup has reduced by about 25 percent, 30 to 40 minutes.
Puree the soup with an immersion blender. Or allow it to cool slightly and puree in batches in a blender or food processor, then return it to the pan. Add the cream; cook and stir over low heat until heated through.
Ladle into bowls and garnish as desired.
Parmigiana Croutons
Makes about 2 cups
2 (1-inch) slices sourdough or other artisan-style bread
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
½ cup finely grated Parmigiana-Reggiano cheese
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 400ºF. Cut or tear the bread into roughly 1-inch chunks (raggedy edges are fine).
Place the bread in a large bowl, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with the cheese, and season lightly with salt and pepper. Toss until the bread absorbs the oil and the cheese is evenly distributed.
Spread out the croutons on a sheet pan and bake 7 minutes, or until lightly browned on one side. Then flip and continue baking 5 minutes longer, or until the bread is browned and crisp all over but still somewhat chewy on the inside.
Drain the croutons on paper towels and let cool. Then store in an airtight container and use within a couple of days.
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