Soup and such

August 15, 2010

I had some tomatoes rotting on the counter and hadn’t even noticed. Hmm…that doesn’t sound very good for a B&B, huh? But there was no odor (and I have a very good sense of smell!), so I missed the problem this morning before we left. I noticed the whitish liquid (gross) under one of the tomatoes, though, as soon as I got back, so I started cutting out the bad spots, then saving the rest to use them as needed…..

…..which is turning out to be this way: making “Tomato Dill Soup” from Paula Deen’s The Lady & Sons Savannah Country Cookbook (p. 26). (Recipe in separate post).

…..And that made me think of other soup. It’s really too early to think a lot about soup (unless it’s a cold one); it’s simply NOT soup weather yet. But that didn’t stop me from thinking about it anyway, and how I used to throw whatever was left in the fridge into a pot of chicken stock on my winter soup days. (You know the ones: it’s gray, cold and maybe even snowing — sort of like today because it’s raining and it’s a nice gently falling rain, which is exactly how snow falls, so maybe that’s what got the soup thoughts going.)

And then I started thinking about how I also used to throw extra stuff into my homemade pancakes when the girls were little. They were always good breakfast eaters, so I figured I’d get as much nutrition into them early in the day since they might not eat that much later. And the pancakes never were served with syrup, so they really were pretty nutritious. And the soups are, too. The Tomato Dill Soup recipe that I found is a fun, fresh tomato option, and it should also be healthy. Yum…

And then the thoughts of the soup and the pancakes and how one thing leads to another all made me think of the story I read last night, “The Student,” by Chekov, and how things hold together in relationship, even when we’re not aware of it all the time….you know, how one thing relates to another when it’s a seemingly random thing, like soup, pancakes and wholeness and joy….

“The old woman had wept, not because he could tell the story touchingly, but [because of the story itself, and how something in it had connected with something in the woman’s life, and how when those 2 things connected, there was an instant sense of completeness and meaning.]….And joy suddenly stirred in his soul,…’The past,’ he thought, ‘is linked with the present by an unbroken chain of events flowing one out of another.’ And it seemed to him that he had just seen both ends of that chain; that when he touched one end the other quivered. …and the inexpressible sweet expectation of happiness, of unknown mysterious happiness, took possession of him little by little, and life seemed to him enchanting, marvellous, and full of lofty meaning.”

I think I got what Chekov meant. And it was soup and pancakes and such that got the thoughts going.


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