Soup du Jour
The good news in my part of the world is that a blessed cold front has moved in. The tyranny of triple digit temps has been shattered! The dictatorial humidity has been sent on the run! Huzzah!
The bad news is that means day after day of dreary, prolonged, sloppy rain.
Over the past few days I’ve gotten my sleep schedule all out of whack. It seems I’m unable to fall asleep until daylight. Then I sleep till late afternoon. I slept even longer today, not crawling out of bed until almost 5pm thanks to staying awake to finish a book, the white noise of steady rain, and wonderfully cool temps that caused me to cocoon up in my quilt and snooze.
When I did get up, while downing my first few cups of coffee, I thought: What a wonderful day for soup!
I love soup. I love to eat it and make it. Every pot of soup is an experiment, and every pot of soup has its own flavor and character and personality. I know a hundred recipes for soup: spicy, sweet, savory and with every imaginable ingredient.
So I walked over to my parents (I live in my own little place on their property) house to put on the crock pot.
I discovered, sadly, that my mother had the same idea and had already made soup.
This is a bummer because my mother’s philosophy of soup is the opposite of mine. The only type she makes could charitably be called beef vegetable. It consists of all the leftovers from the fridge and a can of mixed vegetables in a tomato base.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a decent enough soup. Just boring — and I’m tired of it, having eaten it since childhood.
And I really wanted to make some soup, dammit! I was envisioning Chicken and dumplings using my friend Miss Frieda’s “Full Dozen Eggs” noodle recipe.
Oh well. Boring soup is better than no soup.
It’s nice and warm, anyway.
