Tag Archives: soup

adjustment.

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the origin soup 

on thursday I went home with a cold

looking for comfort food

not wanting to go to the store

I made soup out of what I found in my kitchen

I  put it all in a crockpot, turned it on, and waited it out

 problem was

after 4 hours

it did NOT taste good

I added more herbs and some fresh salsa

I waited it out

tried again

nope, not good

added more things

now on day 4 of the soup saga

added in even more things

continued cooking

next move

add in tomatoes

but that can wait

until the morning

it’s now taking on

a creamy porridge texture

still slow cooking it

some beans still hard

still does not taste good

now a lot of soup

I could easily survive

the rest of the winter

if snowed in with this soup

it would still not taste good

but I would never go hungry

this might go on forever

like a sourdough starter

perhaps I can pass it on

to my children one day

tomorrow will be the best day ever

when the soup will all come together

I just know it.

“cooking is the art of adjustment.”

– jacques pepin

soup.

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time well spent

on a cold and sunny day

 listening to music, reading words, and making soup.

 

“there ain’t a body, be it mouse or man, that ain’t made better by a little soup.” 

-kate dicamillo

 

 

 

image credit: jess stockham, illustrator, flip-up fairy tales

 

one hot mess.

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french-onion-soup

made a big pot

of bubbling hot

french onion soup

ladled it into little bowls

topped it with

buttered french bread slices

gruyere cheese

broiled it until it was just so

fully enjoyed it

though i knew

my big pan

was going to be tough to clean 

after caramelizing the onions

and 

cooking it for

such a very long time

to create a rich flavor

so 

after our meal

and

emptying out

the rest of the soup

i remembered 

an old kitchen trick

 reheat the pan

on low

with a little

water and dish soap

to unstick the brown bits

making for an easier cleanup

and

went off to work

on an art project

in the other room

music playing

windows open

nice breeze on a hot night

a familiar scent filled the air

wondered why the neighbors

were grilling out so late at night

took a break from the art

to get a drink of water

realized the 

‘grilling’

was going on right in my own kitchen

apparently

i’d forgotten about

my clever cleanup trick

that was fully in process

the water had cooked down long ago

the pan was almost on fire

inside was black and crackling

IMG_0866i quickly turned off the heat

grabbed the pan

with hot pads

put it into my sink

too hot to add any water

let it cool down overnight

in the morning

finally decided to

tackle the scrubbing job

now made so much harder

with the ultra char-grilled pan

went to pull it out of the sink

it seemed a bit stuck

wrestled with it a bit

finally used all of

my upper body muscle power

snapped it out of there

 flipped it over to see why

it was sticking

and

voila!

it had been so hot

that it had melted right to my sink

IMG_0864

and when i yanked it out

it took some of the ceramic with it
IMG_0874

 now

i need

a new pan

and

a new sink

but

damn, that soup was good.

“the only real stumbling block is fear of failure.

in cooking you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.”

― julia child

 

Only the pure in heart can make a good soup. – Ludwig van Beethoven

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during my first year of teaching, i discussed the concept of respect with my class of 3rd-5th graders. after, we each wrote something about what respect meant to us. this was written by an 8-year-old, and was my favorite:

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i suppose i should have known it would read something like this, coming from my little guy who was a pragmatic vegan buddhist.

An idealist is one who, on noticing that roses smell better than a cabbage, concludes that it will also make better soup.

H. L. Mencken

today, with no school and home once again, i’ll make a simmering pot of tomato basil soup in honor of my young writer. this one’s for you, r. i think you would respect it, i know i will.

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Writing and cookery are just two different means of communication. – Maya Angelou