Mae was home.
She walked in while I was halfway through slicing onions, said, “Smells like you’re trying.”
I was.
Not for perfection. Not for guests. Just to feel like something warm was happening in the kitchen again.
Her Highness calls it “French Onion Soup.”
I call it a reason to sit down together, with socks on and cheese in our hair.
It worked.
What the Original Looked Like
Martha’s version has grace.
Three pounds of onions, cooked down like they have nowhere else to be. Olive oil first, then butter, garlic, thyme, and a bay leaf that probably came from a very clean jar. She deglazes with vermouth, simmers in beef stock, then adds a kiss of something sweet—Marsala, Madeira, or port.
Then the bread. Toasted. Serious.
And the Gruyère, golden and bubbling like applause.
You can tell she means it. Every stir. Every shine.
What I Did Differently
I didn’t have white vermouth.
Used dry red wine. More heart than elegance.
Skipped the toasting. I fried the bread in butter until it crackled.
It was louder that way.
And the cheese? Bagged and pre-shredded.
Mae saw me open it, smirked, said, “That’s not very Martha.”
I shrugged. We used it anyway.
The Way It Happened in My Kitchen
The onions started pale and cold. So did I.
But they softened. Slowly. As I stirred, the smell changed—first sharp, then round. Then something like patience.
Garlic went in too late. The thyme was dry and stubborn.
Didn’t matter. The broth forgave it all.
Mae kept me company. Not with words, just presence.
She sat on the counter like she used to when she was little—feet swinging, eyes half on her phone, half on the bubbling pot.
The wine hissed and lifted something in the air. We didn’t name it.
But when the cheese blistered under the broiler and the bowls hit the table—full and fragrant and just a little messy—something in the room relaxed.
We didn’t say grace.
We just passed the spoons.
A Few Things I Learned
This soup doesn’t rush. And neither should you.
Sometimes what you need isn’t faster—it’s warmer.
Also: fried bread might be the best decision I’ve made this year.
What I Did With the Extras
Mae claimed one jar for herself. Ate it cold the next morning with a heel of bread and a leftover pickle.
Said it was “weirdly perfect.”
Didn’t ask for reheating instructions.
The rest I froze.
One for a rainy day. One for when the house feels too quiet again.
Would I Make It Again?
Absolutely.
Even if no one’s visiting.
Even if I’m the only one at the table.
That’s As Much As I Remember
The broth was deep.
The bowls were heavy.
And when Mae left, the kitchen still smelled like staying.
Why I Fried the Bread Instead of Toasting
Because toasting felt polite.
Frying felt like comfort.
It soaked up more soup. Got crisp around the edges, soft underneath.
Like it knew it was meant to carry something.
FAQs
Yes, totally. They’ll be a little sharper, but once they cook down, nobody complains.
Kinda. But not in a snobby way. I used bagged Gruyère and still felt loved.
Nope. Whatever holds up under cheese and broth will do. I pan-fried sandwich bread once—worked like a charm.
Yes, but skip the bread and cheese when you do. Just freeze the broth. Add the toppings fresh later.
Long enough to change your mood. About two hours start to finish. Most of it is simmering, not stress.
Check out More Recipes
- Martha Stewart Apple Crisp
- Martha Stewart Strawberry Cake
- Martha Stewart Sugar Cookies
- Martha Stewart Cranberry Sauce
Martha Stewart French Onion Soup
Description
Warm, dark, and gentle on a day that needed all three.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Start Slow With the Onions: Heat the olive oil in a heavy pot. Add all the onions. Stir gently. Let them take their time—35 to 40 minutes until they sigh into gold.
- Add Butter, Garlic, and Friends: Stir in butter, garlic, thyme, bay leaf, and seasoning. Let it all melt together. Smell everything. It should feel like it’s wrapping around you.
- Deglaze With Wine, Then Build: Pour in the wine and scrape the pot like you’re remembering something. Let it almost vanish. Then add the stock and Marsala. Bring to a boil, then let it simmer gently—45 minutes or so.
- Assemble With Care: Fry the bread if you want more crisp. Lay each slice into a broiler-safe bowl of soup. Top with cheese. Broil until bubbling, browned, and defiant.