French Onion Soup

2025 By justmovingaround in FRANCE, Local Culture Tags: France, local food

French onion soup is one of the best-known classics of French cuisine, yet its origins are surprisingly humble. Built from slowly caramelised onions, broth, wine and herbs, it transforms a few simple ingredients into a rich, deeply aromatic dish. Finished with toasted bread and melted cheese, it has become one of the most recognisable and comforting symbols of traditional French cooking.

French onion soup (soupe à l’oignon) is one of the most recognisable dishes of French cuisine, although its origins are far older and far more modest than one might expect. Contrary to the modern image of it as a classic of Parisian bistros, the soup grew out of everyday cooking and for centuries was a simple, inexpensive and nourishing meal.

The foundation of the soup is the onion – a vegetable that was available throughout the year in Europe, stored well, and was among the cheapest ingredients in the household. As early as the Middle Ages, various forms of onion soups were prepared across different regions of France, usually based on water or a simple broth. They were part of the daily diet of both rural communities and city dwellers.

The modern form of onion soup began to take shape in the eighteenth century, when French cooking increasingly emphasised techniques that built flavour through the slow caramelisation of ingredients. Long, gentle cooking of onions in butter allowed their natural sweetness and depth of flavour to develop. Combined with beef stock, wine and herbs, this produced a soup with surprisingly rich character despite its very simple ingredients.

Paris played a significant role in the popularity of the dish. In the nineteenth century, onion soup became especially associated with the area around the great Parisian market halls of Les Halles. It was sold during the night and in the early morning in small eateries and bars serving the workers, porters and traders who worked at the market. Warm, aromatic and filling, the soup was an ideal meal for people finishing a night shift or beginning work before dawn. Over time it also became connected with the city’s late-night restaurants and cafés.

The element that is now most distinctive – the toasted bread topped with melted cheese – appeared later. The addition of baguette and cheese, most often Gruyère or Comté, gave the dish a more refined character. During baking, the cheese melts and lightly browns, forming a layer that links the crisp bread with the hot soup beneath. This feature has since become one of the most recognisable signatures of French onion soup.

Although the dish is most closely associated with France, similar onion soups exist in many parts of Europe. Italian cuisine includes onion soups enriched with bread and olive oil, while in Spain there are regional onion soups sometimes served with broth and egg. In Central Europe, onions have long formed the basis of simple vegetable soups. The French version, however, is distinguished by the particularly long caramelisation of the onions and the finishing step of baking the soup with bread and cheese.

Today French onion soup is both a home-style dish and a classic of restaurant menus. It can be found in traditional bistros as well as in contemporary restaurants, where it is often prepared according to a very classical method. It is a perfect example of a dish that began as humble everyday food and gradually became a symbol of French culinary tradition.

The ingredients for about 4 servings are:

1 kg onions (about 6 large onions)
2 cloves garlic
40 g butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 litre beef stock
150 ml dry white wine
1 tablespoon plain flour
1 bay leaf
2 sprigs fresh thyme
salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 baguette
120 g Gruyère cheese (or Comté), grated

French Onion Soup | Soupe à l’oignon | Sopa de cebolla francesa | Sopa de cebola francesa | Francuska zupa cebulowa | フレンチオニオンスープ | 프렌치 어니언 수프 | 法式洋葱汤

First prepare all the ingredients. Peel the onions, cut them in half, and then slice them into thin crescents. In this recipe the onion is the absolute foundation of the flavour, so it is important that the slices are fairly even – this allows them to caramelise at the same pace. Peel the garlic and finely chop it. The stock should be hot, or at least warm, so that when it is added to the pot it does not interrupt the cooking process.

In a large, heavy pot melt the butter together with the tablespoon of olive oil. The olive oil does not change the flavour of the soup, but it helps stabilise the temperature of the fat and prevents the butter from burning during the long cooking of the onions. Add all the sliced onions to the hot fat. At first the volume of onions will seem very large – however, it will reduce significantly as they cook.

Cook the onions over a medium heat, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon. At first the onions will become soft and translucent, and only later will they slowly begin to take on a golden-brown colour. This stage is the most important for the flavour of the soup and should not be rushed. The caramelisation should take around 30–40 minutes. The onions should become soft, deeply golden and naturally sweet, but never burnt.

Once the onions have reached a deep golden-brown colour, add the chopped garlic and cook for about a minute more, until it becomes fragrant. Then add the tablespoon of flour and mix it thoroughly with the onions. The flour will lightly thicken the soup later and help bring all the ingredients together into a cohesive broth.

Now comes the moment to deglaze the pot. Pour in the white wine directly over the onions and stir well, scraping the bottom of the pot with the spoon to release everything that has stuck during cooking. These browned fragments are extremely aromatic and form an important part of the soup’s flavour. Let the wine cook for a few minutes until the alcohol evaporates and the liquid reduces slightly.

Only then pour in the hot beef stock. The soup should now become clearly more liquid, though still rich with a large amount of onions. Add the bay leaf and the sprigs of thyme, season lightly with freshly ground black pepper, and allow the soup to simmer gently for about 15–20 minutes. During this time the flavours will come together and the soup will develop its characteristic depth of aroma. At this stage it is worth tasting the soup and only then adding salt if needed, as the stock itself can already be quite salty.

While the soup is simmering, prepare the croutons. Slice the baguette into fairly thick pieces. Arrange them on a baking tray lined with parchment paper and place them in an oven preheated to about 200°C. Toast them for a few minutes until they become lightly golden and crisp. They do not need to be deeply browned – the aim is simply to dry them slightly so they keep their structure once placed in the soup.

When the soup is ready, remove the bay leaf and the sprigs of thyme from the pot. Using a ladle, pour the hot soup into ovenproof bowls or small baking dishes. Place one toasted slice of baguette on top of each portion. The bread will usually rest partly against the rim of the bowl and begin to absorb some of the soup. Spread the grated Gruyère or Comté over the croutons. The cheese should cover the bread in a fairly even layer, but it does not need to be perfectly arranged – it will melt and spread naturally during baking. Place the bowls on a baking tray and put them under the grill in the oven. Bake for a few minutes until the cheese melts completely, begins to bubble, and turns lightly golden in places.

Remove the soup from the oven very carefully – the bowls will be extremely hot. Serve immediately. The cheese should be lightly browned and stretching, the crouton partly soaked with the aromatic soup, and the broth itself rich with caramelised onions.

Bon appétit!

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German Potato and Sausage Eintopf

2025 By justmovingaround in Local Culture Tags: Germany, local food

German Potato and Sausage Eintopf is a classic example of simple, hearty German home cooking. This comforting one-pot dish combines potatoes, sausage, and vegetables into a warm and satisfying meal that is especially popular during the colder months.

German Eintopf with potatoes, onions and sausage is a simple, hearty one-pot dish whose flavour is built gradually, beginning with sautéed onions and sausage and ending with gentle simmering in broth. Although similar dishes exist in Poland – something like a peasant’s pot – they were never part of my family’s cooking tradition. I first discovered this type of meal during my longer stays in Germany. That is where I learned how to cook it. Only later did I realise that very similar rustic dishes are also known in my own country.

The word Eintopf literally means one pot, referring to meals in which all ingredients are cooked together in a single pot and served as a complete meal. This style of cooking developed from practical household traditions, where simplicity, nourishment, and the ability to feed many people from inexpensive ingredients were essential.

Potatoes became widespread in Central Europe in the eighteenth century and quickly turned into one of the most important staple foods in Germany. When combined with vegetables and sausages – another defining element of German food culture – they formed the base of many rustic stews eaten by farmers, workers, and families throughout the country. Across Germany, similar dishes appear under names such as Kartoffelsuppe or Kartoffeleintopf. The exact ingredients vary from region to region. In northern parts of the country, smoked sausages are often used and the flavour is heartier and more robust, while southern versions can be lighter and more broth-based. Despite these variations, the essence of the dish remains the same: a comforting, warming stew built around potatoes, sausage, and simple vegetables.

Today, potato and sausage eintopf is especially popular during colder months.

The ingredients for about 4 servings are:

700–800 g potatoes
2 medium onions
350–400 g smoked sausage
about 1 litre broth (vegetable or meat)
2 bay leaves
½–1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
salt to taste (carefully, because the broth may already be salty)
a small handful of fresh parsley
(optionally) ½ teaspoon marjoram

German Potato and Sausage Eintopf | Ragoût allemand de pommes de terre et saucisses | Estofado alemán de patatas y salchicha | Ensopado alemão de batata e salsicha | 德国土豆香肠炖锅 | ドイツ風じゃがいもとソーセージのアイントプフ | 독일식 감자와 소시지 아인트opf | Niemiecki eintopf z ziemniakami i kiełbasą

The first step is to prepare all the ingredients. Peel the potatoes and cut them into medium-sized cubes, about 1.5–2 cm, so that after cooking they are soft but still hold their shape. Slice the sausage into fairly thick rounds so the pieces remain clearly noticeable in the finished dish. Peel the onions and dice them finely. Fresh parsley can be chopped at the beginning and set aside, as it will only be added at the very end.

In a large, heavy pot, ideally cast iron or another thick-bottomed pot, start by sautéing the onions. Place the pot over medium heat and add a small amount of fat, or simply rely on the fat that will later render from the sausage. Add the diced onions and cook them for a few minutes, stirring with a wooden spoon, until they become soft and translucent. The onions should soften and turn glossy but should not brown, as browning would make the flavour too intense for this dish.

Once the onions are ready, add the sliced sausage to the pot. Let it cook together with the onions for several minutes. During this time the sausage begins to lightly brown and releases its fat and aroma, which combine with the onions and create the flavour base of the entire eintopf. Stir from time to time so that the sausage browns evenly and nothing sticks to the bottom of the pot.

Add the diced potatoes to this aromatic base. Pour them directly into the pot and mix them thoroughly with the onions and sausage. Let them cook together briefly for a minute or two so the potatoes warm up slightly and absorb some of the flavour already present in the pot. At this stage add the seasonings: the bay leaves, freshly ground black pepper, and a small amount of salt. Salt should be added cautiously because the broth that will be poured in next may already contain salt, so it is better to adjust the seasoning fully at the end of cooking.

Next pour in the broth. The liquid should cover the ingredients by roughly two to three centimetres so the dish remains thick and hearty rather than becoming a thin soup. After adding the broth, stir gently and bring everything to a boil. When the eintopf begins to bubble, let it cook briefly without a lid so that you can easily control the heat.

Once the dish reaches a steady boil, place the lid on the pot but leave it slightly ajar. The eintopf should simmer gently over low heat for about twenty to thirty minutes. During this time the potatoes soften, and some of them begin to break down slightly, naturally thickening the broth. This is what gives eintopf its characteristic texture – rich and substantial, more like a stew than a soup.

Toward the end of cooking, taste the dish and adjust the seasoning with salt or pepper if needed. Remove the bay leaves from the pot, as they have already released their aroma. Finally add the chopped fresh parsley and stir it gently into the stew.

Serve the finished eintopf in deep bowls while it is still hot. It is traditionally eaten with a spoon and accompanied by thick slices of rustic bread, preferably sourdough or a mixed rye-wheat loaf. The bread is perfect for soaking up the rich, thick broth left in the bowl.

Guten Appetit!

You may also like the recipes for: French Onion Soup, Lithuanian Cold Beet Soup, French Beef Bourguignon, East European Solyanka or New Zealand Chowder.

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Jetboat Ride in Queenstown New Zealand

2025 By justmovingaround in Local Culture, NEW ZEALAND Tags: entertainment, New Zealand

A quiet day in Queenstown turned into something a bit more exciting than planned – a quick trip up Bob’s Peak, a last-minute jetboat ride, and a good dose of fresh air (and cold spray) that we didn’t know we needed.

This post is a little out of the ordinary – and no, it’s not some half-hearted filler dredged up from the archive. The truth is, I’d completely forgotten it happened. Only recently, while scrolling through the photo library I keep specifically for this blog, I stumbled across a few pictures – and one video – that brought it all back.

Our trip to New Zealand several years ago didn’t unfold quite as planned. The idea had been to explore and discover – but then we picked up some sort of virus, and for a few days our focus shifted from scenery to searching for doctors and chemists.

By the time we reached Queenstown – often described as the adventure capital of the world – we still weren’t feeling our best. You arrive in this global hub of outdoor thrills, and you haven’t got the energy to enjoy any of it. Queenstown offers everything: bungee jumping, paragliding, rafting, canyoning, climbing, heli-skiing, mountain biking, off-road tours, skydiving, and jetboating – not to mention more relaxed pleasures like lake cruises, vineyard visits, alpine trails, and scenic helicopter flights.

That day, a few from our group opted for a quiet one: resting on benches, sipping coffee, just trying to feel better again. But two others still in relatively good shape had different plans. How about a jetboat ride through a canyon? It sounded intense. I wasn’t sure I was quite up to it, but I also didn’t want to spend yet another day watching life happen from the sidelines. So I said yes. We headed to one of the outdoor adventure centres in town and bought tickets. The selection of experiences was enormous – all well-organised, with many running on short notice. We were told to meet back in two hours, at which point a bus would take us to the jetboat launch site.

With time to kill, we decided to ride the Skyline Queenstown gondola up to Bob’s Peak. Technically, the summit is called Brecon Street Hill, but everyone – locals and tourists alike – calls it Bob’s Peak. It was named after a 19th-century settler or shepherd, possibly a logger, known simply as Bob, who lived and worked in the hills around Queenstown. At the top, it was bustling – especially near the viewing platform – so I didn’t take any photos there. But stepping just a little aside, I managed to capture the kind of views that make you pause. The mountains surrounding Queenstown looked almost otherworldly – jagged, pale, and strange, as if borrowed from a lunar surface.

Queenstown New Zealand | Queenstown Nouvelle-Zélande | Queenstown Neuseeland | Queenstown Nueva Zelanda | Queenstown Nowa Zelandia | クイーンズタウンニュージーランド | 퀸스타운 뉴질랜드 | 皇后镇新西兰

Photos taken from Bob’s Peak, plus one shot captured a bit earlier from a viewing platform several kilometres before reaching Queenstown.

From the gondola, and again at the summit, we spotted people bungee jumping – flinging themselves off a platform built right into the hillside. What I didn’t realise at the time is that bungee jumping was actually invented here in Queenstown. The first commercial jump took place in 1988, from the Kawarau Bridge, not far from town. It was AJ Hackett, whose company still runs jumps from that bridge – and also from the Ledge Bungy, the one we saw at the top of Bob’s Peak. Unlike the classic arc of the bridge jump, this version offers a straight vertical drop over the rooftops of Queenstown itself. Watching it from the calm interior of the gondola felt oddly surreal – a strange contrast between gentle sightseeing and pure, free-fall adrenaline. There were mountain bikers, too – lots of them. The slope is criss-crossed with purpose-built downhill trails, and the infrastructure is clearly made for it. Between the jumpers, the cyclists, and the hikers, the whole peak had a certain brilliant restlessness to it – the sense that something is always in motion.

We returned to town in time for the bus, which took us out to the Shotover River canyon – the starting point for our jetboat ride. The jetboat ride we took was operated by Shotover Jet. The company has been running since 1965 and is the only operator licensed to navigate the narrow Shotover River canyons, thanks to a special government act passed in 1987. Today, it’s owned by Ngāi Tahu Tourism, representing the local Māori iwi who have a deep ancestral connection to the river, known traditionally as Kimiākau.

Photos I took just before we boarded the jetboat – shots of the river ahead and of the group that set off before us.

Everything was handled with efficiency: a quick safety briefing, clear instructions (Hold on tight, no filming during the ride), lockers for personal items, life jackets, waterproof spray jackets – and then we were off. The engines roared to life and suddenly we were flying through a narrow gorge at terrifying speed – skimming past rocks, whipping around corners, doing 360-degree spins that made us shout and laugh. The ride lasted about 25 minutes, but the rush of it stayed with me much longer. It was sharp, loud, cold, and absolutely brilliant – the sort of experience that jolts you fully back into the present, especially when you’ve been feeling a bit foggy. We couldn’t film during the ride, but cameras were mounted on the boat, and I ended up with a video, the one I rediscovered recently (watch below). You can see us grinning, laughing and clearly having the time of our lives.

A short video made by the jetboat organisers – the one in the hood is me.

Looking back, it was the perfect reminder that travel isn’t just about ticking off sights – it’s also about saying yes to the spontaneous, the strange, and the serendipitous. Even on a day that began with low energy and no real plan, we wound up doing something utterly unforgettable. That blast of icy air, the slap of water on our faces, the way my stomach dropped and rose again – it was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.