Boast: My Soup Tonight

My soup tonight is greater than all other soups in all of history combined. My soup tonight is the Obama of soups in the Democratic nominating process of soups. My soup tonight began with the aged minced garlic and the button mushrooms and the chopped yellow onion which were sauteed in the olive oil and the soy sauce, and that was good, but there had also to be Cambell's Tomato Soup. So there was. And there was the can of water. And not only the can of water, but an unexpected shot of milk.

Then, an entire cucumber gave up its slices for my soup of tonight.

I thought that one Roma Tomato would suffice. But seeing that my soup of tonight was not yet as tomato-ish as a tomato based soup ought to be, I delivered! I sliced another Roma!

An ordinary soup-maker would have been satisfied with that. But I pressed on! There must be cinnamon, I said. Yes: cinnamon! And basil! And black pepper!

Still, I was not satisfied. For there was not enough green. Therefore, to achieve green, I chopped kale. Chopping and chopping, more chopping, and more chopping. Kale, kale, kale. Damn good fresh kale, too.

A dash more cinnamon and, Hot Damn! Good soup!

A New Jag & Boast

Anitra isn't the only one who has jags. Maybe the only one who has such intense jags, but I have jags, too. My new jag is learning to make my own bread.

I've only made unleavened bread until tonight. I wanted to start out slow to give myself a chance to get used to touching raw dough. I am very sensitive about sticking my hands in goop. I consider raw dough to be goop. I know it's clean goop, but goop is goop.

Tonight, only an hour ago, I made my first loaf of leavened bread. It was a rounded ten inch by five inch by two inch loaf of 100% whole wheat honey bread. Fresh and hot, it was like warm cake.

To make it I had to reduce the amounts by a third and adjust, because the recipe would have made too much to bake in my toaster oven. In spite of the adjustments it came out beautiful.

For that is how the gods dote upon me. They do give me more than I wish they would; I tremble in terror at how I might be required someday to repay them.

I share my glory with my ingredients, the Stone-Buhr whole wheat flour, the Mel-O Pure Honey which I stole from Anitra, the salt, the egg, the yeast, the olive oil, and the lukewarm water. Their sacrifice will surely be rewarded in the next life, perhaps with a mobile form, or appendages with which to scratch itches.