That was the thought process that led me to last night's dinner. It was icky yesterday, too, and I felt bad that The Man had to work outside all day in a cold rain. So.....soup. Chicken soup. With mushrooms and carrots and celery and noodles. Mmmmm.
One of the skills I'm most grateful to have learned in school is the ability to make all different kinds of soups. I learned the techniques that keep cream soups creamy, and the beauty of laboring for long periods of time to make the perfect, crystal clear consommé. It's not an easy process, but it's worth it.
I have a recipe for a cold peach and yogurt soup I can't wait to try when the weather gets a little bit warmer. I also have a cold cucumber soup recipe that, once I get it more solidified in my head, should be a great "signature" kind of dish. Of course, I haven't actually tried it yet, it's still just an idea, but I have high hopes.
There's one weird little quirk I have when it comes to soup. (Really? Just one? I can hear my friends and relatives giving me a collective "Yeah, right".) I always have to put enough crackers in my soup so that it's not soupy anymore. And I have to have the crackers. Just have to. Crackers with soup, chips with a sandwich....these are requirements, and they're non-negotiable. No wonder I have to open my own restaurant....no one else can keep up with my demands.
The point of this entry, I guess, is this: the next time you go to make soup, don't just throw things in a pot. Consider your ingredients, remember the order in which you do things, and give it real time for the flavors to develop. The result will be a great thing.....a soup any chef would be proud to serve.
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