Souping It

A big bowl of soup on a cold winters night sounds lovely, doesn't it?  Of course it does, particularly with a loaf of crusty yummy warm bread slathered with butter.  YUM!  No matter where in the world you live, there is some sort of yummilicious thick broth-y concoction that is known as true comfort food.  Am I wrong?

 

But you know what I realized?  That no matter how awesome soup is, it doesn't just morph itself into being like we figure.  Someone has to slave over it...for hours...chopping...and simmering...and...soup-ing.  Most often a mother figure.  I always sort of 'see' some rotund jolly woman with an apron tied around her ample midsection but my mother would shoot me since she makes soup and isn't anywhere near 'rotund' and often goes without wearing an apron.  And jolly...well yea, not always.  (Love you, Mommy)

 

Let me tell you why I'm speaking at length about soup.  And no, it's not connected to the frigid temps outside (for reference, see prior blog).  It's because in the recent past, I've been forced to embrace my inner soup-making goddess.  There are personal reasons as to why I had to but suffice it to say, this is not a role I took on willingly. 

 

In fact, the first stint into the world of making soup other than chicken egg drop (which, FYI, I'm pretty good at whipping up) was quite...amusing.  You think, what's the big deal, soup is soup.  Pfft, so not.  Couple that with certain dietary restrictions.  I don't know if any of you fully realize just how many veggies contain potassium (not just bananas) but let me assure you, there are A LOT.  My challenge has been to create different brews that has as little potassium as humanly possible, as well as protein.  Yea, wrap your minds around that one. 

 

This was how that 'first time' went.  In fact consider the following a step-by-step lesson on how NOT to make soup because no one should ever enter a kitchen with as much unsure timidity and trepidation as I did that day (that too for a woman who is fairly confident around that particular part of the house).  Anyhow, here we go:

 

Step 1:  Find out that you have to make soup sans potassium and protein.

Step 2:  Become gob smacked.  

Step 3:  Look up (yet again) on the net just how many foods actually have these two major components in it.

Step 4:  Become more gob smacked.

Step 5:  With list in hand, head off to grocery store in hopes that something fabulous will materialize from the pathetically sad (and yucky) foods that await. 

Step 6:  Resist every urge on the face of the planet from buying the nonsense listed.  Realize how all these things put together can not possibly equate to good eats...no way.

Step 7:  Buy them anyway.

Step 8:  Scurry to the 'natural organic foods' section in search for low sodium veggie broth knowing full well that making stock is most certainly not in immediate future.  First, get directions to aisle.

Step 9:  Become distracted by brownie boxes in the baked good section on my way to targeted aisle.

Step 10:  Ignore said boxes and trudge along and become distracted once again by gourmet cheeses...mmmm...brie. 

Step 11:  Get to the aisle only to look around astounded by how much stuff I've never seen before and then realize why when quinoa is in said aisle I knew not to ventured close.   I don't care how good and healthy quinoa is, it's disgusting.  You can have it healthy food people.

Step 12:  Stare slack jawed at the ingredients listed on the veggie broth box including how much sodium the stuff had in it.  What the hell?  And they label this 'healthy'? 

Step 13:  Buy it anyways and pay the astronomical prices for said items.

Step 14:  Get home only to stare at these things with confusion, completely clueless as to how to put it all together.

Step 15:  Figure that one starts with broth and therefore pulls out a ginormous pot and dump one box/packet/whatever into it.  Stare at it as if it'll sprout ingredients.  It doesn't.  Adds at least two jugs of water to dilute the sodium to some degree.

Step 16:  Watch liquid boil.  Still no veggie sprouting.

Step 17:  Takes a sniff and pulls away with a mental "ew".  This stuff doesn't smell right.  Realizes it smells like...well veggie soup.  Meh.

Step 18:  Starts to dump non-potassium, non-protein laden hastily chopped veggies into the pot.

Step 19:  Another sniff.  Gross.

Step 20:  Adds salt, takes a tentative sip.  Grimaces. 

Step 21:  Ponders throwing the whole noxious brew out but slightly afraid that it will act like acid in the pipes or kill any plants outside of home.  Damn it.

Step 22:  Adds garlic salt, figuring everything is better with garlic, right?

Step 23:  Adds some random herbs that I can't remember right now while I type this but I think one is oregano.

Step 24:  Realize that the smell isn't any less disturbing.

Step 25:  Adds a can of cream corned.  Turning the prior-to fairly clear broth into a sort of a clouded liquid where random colored veggies such as carrots, cauliflower, green beans and some other things floated around merrily.

Step 26:  Sniffed once more and was pleasantly surprised that the stuff in the pot was actually beginning to smell nice.

Step 26a:  (I added the 'a' to the number since I forgot this in the initial draft and am to lazy to renumber) Add uncooked pasta.  That's how it's done, right?  It doesn't make sense to boil something and then boil it again. 

Step 27:  Boiled the hell out of it all for good measure.

Step 28:  Figured that a beaten egg always helps (like in egg drop soup).

Step 29:  Knew that eggs has protein but figured one small egg in a gigantic cauldron of soup wouldn't hurt anyone.  Just to be uber careful, added water to dilute it as I beat the crap out of it.  I know it doesn't make sense. 

Step 30:  Egg added and cilantro thrown in (again, cilantro also makes everything more fragrant and wonderful, right?), the burner is turned off.

Step 31:  Steps back and prays to the God's of soup. 

Step 32:  Anxiously waits for P to take the first sip/bite/slurp.

Step 33:  Astounded that he actually likes the stuff, in fact requests that I make more of it.

Step 33a: Wonders if the man I live with actually has working taste buds.

Step 33b:  Takes a final sip of my own creation and does a mental back pat.  It's really pretty good. (I'm still surprised by this realization so many weeks/soups later.)

Step 34:  Goes between gratified to horrified since I couldn't remember what had actually gone into the making of the stuff and wouldn't likely be able to recreate it even if my life depended upon it, particularly when P requested that do it again.  *crap*

 

So...those are the steps.  Did you chuckle?  Did you wonder how the hell I function on a normal basis?  Yea, I wonder the same too.  And every single attempt at making soup has been almost identical to that above except the ingredients keep changing and shockingly enough, it keeps turning out pretty good.  Either I'm a better cook than I ever knew or P keeps lying his butt off and somehow disposing of the noxious stuff when I'm not looking.  I'd go with either options really.

 

Anyhow, if you're ever in the mood to try your hand at soup making, go head, take my 'recipe' and use it.  I'm willing to share but don't come yelling at me if it doesn't turn out right, I'm not doling out any guarantees here. 

Happy Slurpin'!