This "arrestingly good bowl of soup" is classic, simple and perfect for a light wintertime dinner

My love for French Watercress Soup began with this recipe, which I found going through what was left behind in the mountain house we bought in 2020. It was tucked between pages in bulging manilla file folders of expertly organized receipts, photographs and correspondence, so well ordered as to walk you through the fascinating story of how the original owner, Beverly, brought this house into being in the early 1980s.

I lost hours reading letters between Beverly, her architect and her general contractor before stumbling upon her card for French Watercress Soup while sifting through pictures of the construction process and snapshots of Beverly. Perhaps I was primed and ready for a serendipitous discovery after spending so much time immersed in the history of the place and in learning about this woman who had created it all.

When the recipe fell onto the table, it was like Beverly herself — who had passed away a few years before we bought the property — was sending me a welcoming nod, gifting me something that had once been very special to her, in return for appreciating her quirky home, her art and for taking the time to get to know who she was. 

We inherited many of Beverly’s treasures once the place became ours, including richly hued bowls, mugs and serving pieces made by regional potters as well as signed oils and watercolors, drawings and numbered prints. Many have letters or notes affixed to the backs thanking Beverly for a wonderful stay at her place up in the clouds and I love thinking some of these artists’ creations were inspired by the same views I look out and see.

Luckily, our neighbors, whose homes dot the lane that snakes up to our house, knew Beverly well and keep her spirit alive with stories that make us wish we could have attended some of her sunset cocktail parties where she served nothing more to nibble than popcorn. She was a small-framed, firecracker of a woman, and no matter who is telling us about her, the fact that she outlived three husbands is always included. She had red hair, a flamboyant style and a generous spirit and split her time between what is now our place in North Carolina and her home on St Simons, an island off the Georgia coast. 

I was struck first by the name Frannie’s written large at the bottom of the short list of ingredients. I later learned Frannie’s was a restaurant on St Simons back in the day, but I suppose it could have been just the name of a friend or acquaintance. Frannie was my maternal grandmother’s name, or what everyone called her, so seeing her name so unexpectedly gave me pause.

Beverly had also written, Alfonso’s, the name of a now-closed but forever remembered and long standing dinner club on St Simons. Maybe this recipe had a connection to someone who had a hand in both places? Whatever the case, Beverly had drawn an arc of stars across the top and penciled the word, Delicious, off to the side and underlined it twice.      

Of course, I made the soup as quickly as I could procure all I needed; my husband and I both wished I had doubled the recipe — which, by the way, you definitely should when you make it! It is so simple and so very good. Clover green in color and elegantly smooth, it is everything comforting on a chilly, dreary January evening. 

It is easy and quick to prepare, perfect for a weekday meal, but it is also delicate and refined and perhaps best suited as a first course for a special occasion. It is filling without being heavy, and you need nothing more than a nice, cut and toasted, crusty baguette, onto which the addition of a little butter and garlic salt will not hurt, if you are so inclined.  

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Here are some things I wish I had known — and am embarrassed that I did not know — before excitedly sharing this recipe with my friends and family once I returned home: One, French Watercress Soup is a classic, meaning I had not discovered anything new here (or had I?). Two, like so many other French classics, it was made famous in the States by Julia Child, but before Julia, it was already a classic Creole soup, served in some of the most renown restaurants in New Orleans over the last, oh . . . one hundred years or so! 

What I did know was that Beverly’s extremely simple recipe yielded an arrestingly good bowl of soup. And, come to find out, there was something different about her French Watercress. Classic French Watercress is basically Potato Leek with watercress added, but that is not the case here. This recipe does not call for leeks and does not include potatoes or any starchy vegetable for that matter.   

Before finding and making this recipe, I never noticed French Watercress Soup being in my world at all — not on menus or in magazines. Perhaps it was there all along, like when you buy a particular car, then you suddenly see your make and model in every parking lot and stop light. Overnight, your eyes just open to it and you realize how utterly common your vehicle is.

If French Watercress is a long time favorite of yours, I hope you will be pleased with this particular version. If I am introducing you to it, as Beverly introduced it to me — then well, I believe you are going to love it. Finding the recipe the way I did makes this one even more of a favorite, but it is a wonderful, gorgeous soup, no matter its origin story.