The Soup Nazi
Tonight we made soup. Well, not so much “we” but he did keep me company and I chopped every vegetable the produce aisle had to offer. Following my beliefs of the rules of “good cooking” we didn’t consult a recipe, we just dumped stuff in a pot. That is what soup is, right? Stuff dumped in a pot? I thought so. So we dumped. And we dumped and we chopped and we poured and we stirred and we boiled and we ooh’d and aaaahhh’d over the great aroma that took over the house.
Fall has officially arrived in our house.
At dinner, LM proclaimed this soup “Delish!” and declared me “the best cook ever! Even in the whole world, Mom!” Wow. I think I blushed a little. So I told him it was a good thing it turned out so well because we have enough for 18 more meals.
His face turned sour.
I guess it wasn’t THAT good.
(I assured him we didn’t have to eat it for the next 18 meals consecutively and that cheered him up a bit. Whew, nice save, Mom.)
Fall has officially arrived in our house.
At dinner, LM proclaimed this soup “Delish!” and declared me “the best cook ever! Even in the whole world, Mom!” Wow. I think I blushed a little. So I told him it was a good thing it turned out so well because we have enough for 18 more meals.
His face turned sour.
I guess it wasn’t THAT good.
(I assured him we didn’t have to eat it for the next 18 meals consecutively and that cheered him up a bit. Whew, nice save, Mom.)
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