You could easily distinguish the scent of onions, fennel, celery and fresh vegetables. the strong smell reminded me of my grandmother's house,
- Are you there Grandma, with your stiffened and wrinkled hands, but at the same time so delicate that they were capable of turning a simple soup into a work of art? Did if you come down from the heavens to cook me the ultimate soup Grandma? Did you?
Christmas is over. They've all gone home. All that remains is leftovers and wrapping paper.
Into the blender goes roast potatoes, roast parsnips, Brussels sprouts though the bacon lardons are all gone. Carrots, red cabbage, celeriac, stuffing, some of the turkey meat that didn't make it into the freezer. Of course the turkey stock.
Whizz! Whirr! Turning the reds and greens of celebration into a uniformed brown that tastes divine.
I knew that one day I'd get drunk and tell one of them. And that wouldnt be fair, so I stood up and told the whole family. Right after we' finished dessert.
"I want you all to know... that I put a spoon of grandad's ashes in the soup. He's with us all forever now."
I never thought it would tear the family apart like that. No accounting for taste.
"Well, our bodies get recycled, slowly breaking back down into individual molecules, someday to help build a new creature."
"And our souls?"
"I don't rightly know. Maybe they're sort of recycled, too, and our memories, loves, hates, joys, and sorrows are all rendered down into an ethereal soup, all ready to nourish a new infant soul."
Roaches floated in the red ocean in my bowl. My stomach howled in pain. I can't remember how long I've been locked in this closet. I tossed the roaches out of my soup and slurped it down. It wasn’t that bad. Last night was chicken soup with shit instead of noodles. All I've been given to eat was soup. I've grown to hate soup and the people who eat it!
Brenda was exhausted from arguing with Stu and his lazy ass. He never left the couch anymore. Totally useless. A large pot of soup is always perfect on a cold blustery day. Brenda meticulously chopped vegetables, still stewing over their stupid argument. This one was more heated than typical. While the soup simmered, she realized there wasn’t meat to add. He would be tough but small enough bits would work.
Thank you. No hadn't heard of the book but just read a brief overview. This idea popped into my head from an annual crazy artshow I attended years ago. There was a nice still-life painting with a bowl of soup… with a penis floating in it.
I was checking our course on the navigation chart in my lap when I looked up and saw that we had sailed into a thick fog bank. I asked Mack, a grizzled old sailor who I knew had smuggled whiskey from Canada in the old days, if he had ever seen fog this thick. ”Oh yes,” he said. “Used it to hide from the revenooers . . . boys called it pea soup.”
Anything with gin in the name is fine by us. Except it's so dangerous. We have about a bottle of gin a year during the summer, fully intending to just have a few G&Ts, but then end up drinking the whole bottle because it's so nice. Then we regret it the very next day and vow not to do it again. This vow lasts about ten months, until the weather gets lovely again.
In other words - offer us your sloe gin at your peril!
Many thanks to Miguel for inviting us to his dinner table as creative guests!
The Soup Of The Day
The argument was settled and apologies were given by the Inns cook.
A magnificent bowl of beef barley soup was set down before him. The best he had ever tasted! So thick and satisfying yet a distinct flavor he couldn’t place. The bread was still warm with fresh churned butter, a delight. So filling…yet the scent of almonds strangely enough?
You could easily distinguish the scent of onions, fennel, celery and fresh vegetables. the strong smell reminded me of my grandmother's house,
- Are you there Grandma, with your stiffened and wrinkled hands, but at the same time so delicate that they were capable of turning a simple soup into a work of art? Did if you come down from the heavens to cook me the ultimate soup Grandma? Did you?
Soup - mg 70
===========================
Christmas is over. They've all gone home. All that remains is leftovers and wrapping paper.
Into the blender goes roast potatoes, roast parsnips, Brussels sprouts though the bacon lardons are all gone. Carrots, red cabbage, celeriac, stuffing, some of the turkey meat that didn't make it into the freezer. Of course the turkey stock.
Whizz! Whirr! Turning the reds and greens of celebration into a uniformed brown that tastes divine.
don't hang about eating it though....
Post Christmas Soup - a new recipe!
It is actually something I've done for the last couple of years so it is a real recipe :)
I knew that one day I'd get drunk and tell one of them. And that wouldnt be fair, so I stood up and told the whole family. Right after we' finished dessert.
"I want you all to know... that I put a spoon of grandad's ashes in the soup. He's with us all forever now."
I never thought it would tear the family apart like that. No accounting for taste.
Love this
That made me laugh out loud.
i was inspired by jimmy dooms post "plum sauce eulogy". check that for some good writing ooph!
Oh, wow! I didn't see that coming. 😂
i just thought of another last line...DAMN
"He can be a bit of a shit for all of you now," said Grandma after a stunned silence.
That line is hilarious! It's your work, I assume Miguel won't mind if you edit. Grandma gets in the last word at last ..
wholesome as ever 😄
"Father, what happens to us when we die?"
"Well, our bodies get recycled, slowly breaking back down into individual molecules, someday to help build a new creature."
"And our souls?"
"I don't rightly know. Maybe they're sort of recycled, too, and our memories, loves, hates, joys, and sorrows are all rendered down into an ethereal soup, all ready to nourish a new infant soul."
"Soul soup. That would be neat."
Beautiful
Thank you...
RIGHTEOUS! 😎
Thank you, I'm blushing. It took me all day, but that conversation eventually grew up in my head... it was cool!
“Soup”
Roaches floated in the red ocean in my bowl. My stomach howled in pain. I can't remember how long I've been locked in this closet. I tossed the roaches out of my soup and slurped it down. It wasn’t that bad. Last night was chicken soup with shit instead of noodles. All I've been given to eat was soup. I've grown to hate soup and the people who eat it!
PROMPT: SOUP
THE SOUP
The first bowl of soup was too cold.
She couldn’t eat cold soup.
The second bowl of soup was too salty.
And she hated salty soup.
The third bowl wasn’t quite right, either.
But she ate it anyway.
Because the three bears were about to be home at any moment… 🥣😎🥣
yeah... bears gettin a taste of their own finally!
Haha! They're going to be more salty than the soup when they find out, for sure... 😎
Congratulations Miguel on the milestone!
Microdosing - 70mg of a Soup
===
She woke up at noon.
She forgot to brush her hair.
She dreamed of a patient.
A patient who didn’t survive the night.
She entered the café 10 minutes before the last order.
The owner had one look at her. She returned with a serving of soup and bread.
‘Starter’s on the house.’
Thankful and hungry, she put her palms around the bowl, wishing the cold and emptiness would go.
leaves you feeling bereft of something like the poor woman with the soup
The poor woman lost someone again. I can only offer her the soup.
Soup is a magic healing elixir.
Agree!
70 mg of Chicken Noodle Soup—many thanks to @Miguel S. for the prompt!
You’re lying in bed with a nose that is somehow both runny and stuffy, a damp washcloth pressed against your forehead. This cold feels eternal.
A knock at the door. Grumbling, you open it. Surprisingly, there stands your coworker/crush, Andre.
“I heard you were sick…I thought you might like some soup,” he says, holding up a takeout bag from your favorite deli.
Suddenly, your cold feels like a blessing.
The best soup delivery.
Private Adrian flipped the spare helmet upside-down in the mud. It stuck fast in the half-frozen muck.
“Ingredients” he called up and down the trench.
On squaddie brought an onion, another, two cheese portions from an MRE. A third, a chunk of beef hoarded and salted for weeks.
Artillery flew and the rest of the squad took cover. Not Adrian, who stirred carefully over the little fire.
“Dinner!” he called.
They all agreed it was the best soup they’d ever had.
Oh, Miguel! You've turned me evil 😎
70 mg of Soup
Brenda was exhausted from arguing with Stu and his lazy ass. He never left the couch anymore. Totally useless. A large pot of soup is always perfect on a cold blustery day. Brenda meticulously chopped vegetables, still stewing over their stupid argument. This one was more heated than typical. While the soup simmered, she realized there wasn’t meat to add. He would be tough but small enough bits would work.
Love it. Have you read Natalie Young's How To Eat Your Husband, which she had to rename Season to Taste?
Thank you. No hadn't heard of the book but just read a brief overview. This idea popped into my head from an annual crazy artshow I attended years ago. There was a nice still-life painting with a bowl of soup… with a penis floating in it.
Oh my goodness!!! Amazing
cock a leekie eh?
😂
hehehehe... nice one.
That’s what I do 😏
Thank you
70 words on the subject, soup
I was checking our course on the navigation chart in my lap when I looked up and saw that we had sailed into a thick fog bank. I asked Mack, a grizzled old sailor who I knew had smuggled whiskey from Canada in the old days, if he had ever seen fog this thick. ”Oh yes,” he said. “Used it to hide from the revenooers . . . boys called it pea soup.”
Ironically, I'm about to have a nice warming bowl of homemade Leek & Potato.
However - shouldn't that be 70 ml, rather than mg? Mind you 70ml isn't so much a meal as a spoonful. And that'll never do.
a large(ish) whisky maybe...
Malheureusement, we polished off the last of the whisky the other day in a fit of pique. C'est la vie, you know.
do you like sloe gin? ive got 3 litres of it in a dark cupboard...
If it's got alcohol in it, we'll drink it.
Anything with gin in the name is fine by us. Except it's so dangerous. We have about a bottle of gin a year during the summer, fully intending to just have a few G&Ts, but then end up drinking the whole bottle because it's so nice. Then we regret it the very next day and vow not to do it again. This vow lasts about ten months, until the weather gets lovely again.
In other words - offer us your sloe gin at your peril!
😂
Many thanks to Miguel for inviting us to his dinner table as creative guests!
The Soup Of The Day
The argument was settled and apologies were given by the Inns cook.
A magnificent bowl of beef barley soup was set down before him. The best he had ever tasted! So thick and satisfying yet a distinct flavor he couldn’t place. The bread was still warm with fresh churned butter, a delight. So filling…yet the scent of almonds strangely enough?
Her smirk was the last thing he would ever see.