I am extremely steamed up about soup... pun intended. I just ate yet another disgusting bowl of what was labeled as "soup" at a restaurant in the Dallas airport.
Some higher power needs to inform America's restaurants that soup is a liquid, not a solid. Of course, carrots, clams, noodles, mushrooms and other lovely things can float in the liquid. Nevertheless, soupiness is what makes soup soup.
Soup is one of my favorite types of food, and I have been privileged to eat delectable soups all over the world. No where but in American restaurants is soup reduced (literally reduced) to the consistency of half-congealed plaster of Paris.
I try to be a polite person. The only way I can protect myself from solid soup is to ask the waitperson gently, "Will a spoon stand up straight in the middle of your soup?" Most waitstaff under age 20 are clueless about what I'm asking... they've all been raised on stone soup.
I believe this sad culinary state of affairs came about because of America's need to take everything to ludicrous extremes. (For example, if a car is good, a SUV is better.) As a result, cream soups have been made ridiculously thick. When a restaurant serves me a slab of that stuff for a first course, I know immediately there is no one in the kitchen who deserves to be called a chef.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Soup
I am extremely steamed up about soup... pun intended. I just ate yet another disgusting bowl of what was labeled as "soup" at a restaurant in the Dallas airport.
Some higher power needs to inform America's restaurants that soup is a liquid, not a solid. Of course, carrots, clams, noodles, mushrooms and other lovely things can float in the liquid. Nevertheless, soupiness is what makes soup soup.
Soup is one of my favorite types of food, and I have been privileged to eat delectable soups all over the world. No where but in American restaurants is soup reduced (literally reduced) to the consistency of half-congealed plaster of Paris.
I try to be a polite person. The only way I can protect myself from solid soup is to ask the waitperson gently, "Will a spoon stand up straight in the middle of your soup?" Most waitstaff under age 20 are clueless about what I'm asking... they've all been raised on stone soup.
I believe this sad culinary state of affairs came about because of America's need to take everything to ludicrous extremes. (For example, if a car is good, a SUV is better.) As a result, cream soups have been made ridiculously thick. When a restaurant serves me a slab of that stuff for a first course, I know immediately there is no one in the kitchen who deserves to be called a chef.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Some higher power needs to inform America's restaurants that soup is a liquid, not a solid. Of course, carrots, clams, noodles, mushrooms and other lovely things can float in the liquid. Nevertheless, soupiness is what makes soup soup.
Soup is one of my favorite types of food, and I have been privileged to eat delectable soups all over the world. No where but in American restaurants is soup reduced (literally reduced) to the consistency of half-congealed plaster of Paris.
I try to be a polite person. The only way I can protect myself from solid soup is to ask the waitperson gently, "Will a spoon stand up straight in the middle of your soup?" Most waitstaff under age 20 are clueless about what I'm asking... they've all been raised on stone soup.
I believe this sad culinary state of affairs came about because of America's need to take everything to ludicrous extremes. (For example, if a car is good, a SUV is better.) As a result, cream soups have been made ridiculously thick. When a restaurant serves me a slab of that stuff for a first course, I know immediately there is no one in the kitchen who deserves to be called a chef.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Frozen
On many blustery, subzero, winter mornings when I leave for work, I meet my neighbor walking her dog. I am shivering in my car while frantically trying to crank more heat out of the heater. She is hiking down the side of the windswept, country road looking very happy. Her dog looks happy, too. How does she do this?
I was born a winter wimp, and I envy all those hearty souls who actually enjoy freezing weather.
Another friend tells me, "It's all in the clothes. Put on enough layers", she advises, "and anyone can join the ranks of the hearty". But, I must admit, I've always preferred taking clothes off to putting them on. I dislike feeling trapped in a prison of garments.
What is enjoyable about having snow pants so fat that you feel like you have one giant leg? How do you blow your nose when your hands are made nonfunctional by three pairs of mittens? How can you smile when your blue lips are frozen in place?
I'm obviously never going to be a model for L.L. Bean unless it's a "cocoa around the fire in the lodge" type photo. And I'm sincerely grateful that our cats wisely eschew daily walks.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
I was born a winter wimp, and I envy all those hearty souls who actually enjoy freezing weather.
Another friend tells me, "It's all in the clothes. Put on enough layers", she advises, "and anyone can join the ranks of the hearty". But, I must admit, I've always preferred taking clothes off to putting them on. I dislike feeling trapped in a prison of garments.
What is enjoyable about having snow pants so fat that you feel like you have one giant leg? How do you blow your nose when your hands are made nonfunctional by three pairs of mittens? How can you smile when your blue lips are frozen in place?
I'm obviously never going to be a model for L.L. Bean unless it's a "cocoa around the fire in the lodge" type photo. And I'm sincerely grateful that our cats wisely eschew daily walks.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Frozen
On many blustery, subzero, winter mornings when I leave for work, I meet my neighbor walking her dog. I am shivering in my car while frantically trying to crank more heat out of the heater. She is hiking down the side of the windswept, country road looking very happy. Her dog looks happy, too. How does she do this?
I was born a winter wimp, and I envy all those hearty souls who actually enjoy freezing weather.
Another friend tells me, "It's all in the clothes. Put on enough layers", she advises, "and anyone can join the ranks of the hearty". But, I must admit, I've always preferred taking clothes off to putting them on. I dislike feeling trapped in a prison of garments.
What is enjoyable about having snow pants so fat that you feel like you have one giant leg? How do you blow your nose when your hands are made nonfunctional by three pairs of mittens? How can you smile when your blue lips are frozen in place?
I'm obviously never going to be a model for L.L. Bean unless it's a "cocoa around the fire in the lodge" type photo. And I'm sincerely grateful that our cats wisely eschew daily walks.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
I was born a winter wimp, and I envy all those hearty souls who actually enjoy freezing weather.
Another friend tells me, "It's all in the clothes. Put on enough layers", she advises, "and anyone can join the ranks of the hearty". But, I must admit, I've always preferred taking clothes off to putting them on. I dislike feeling trapped in a prison of garments.
What is enjoyable about having snow pants so fat that you feel like you have one giant leg? How do you blow your nose when your hands are made nonfunctional by three pairs of mittens? How can you smile when your blue lips are frozen in place?
I'm obviously never going to be a model for L.L. Bean unless it's a "cocoa around the fire in the lodge" type photo. And I'm sincerely grateful that our cats wisely eschew daily walks.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Aunts
A British author just wrote a book about the importance of aunts. I wish I had beat him to it.
I have been blessed with a trio of magnificent aunts, and they couldn't have been more different personalities.
Aunt Jane was a nurse anesthesiologist who helped bring thousands of babies into the world. She never married, living with us all the years I was growing up. During World War II, Jane volunteered to serve and was sent to the South Pacific. She and her fellow Army Nurses (NOT WACS!) set up field hospitals right behind the front lines. When the bombers came over, she would haul her patients under the beds.
Aunt Jane was loved by the soldiers and the local people as well. One day an islander walked into the camp with a present for her... a live chicken!
My very stylish Aunt Vi also remained single. She was an office manager and an adventuresome traveler, crisscrossing America and Canada on the great trains of the 1920's, 1930's and 1940's.
Aunt Vi never learned to drive. One day when she was in her 80's, Vi got a call from our local hospital that her brother had taken a serious turn for the worse. She immediately ran out of the apartment into the middle of her busy street causing all traffic to come to a screeching halt. Aunt Vi asked the first driver she saw to drive her to the hospital because "my little brother is dying." The startled driver got her there in record time.
Aunt Peg married an Irishman and had six children. Her attitude toward life was simple and effective - get up, get working and keep smiling. Remarkably, she found spare time to become a first rate seamstress, upholsterer, community theater actress and unsurpassed thrift store shopper.
America has days set aside to honor mothers, fathers, grandparents and secretaries. I think a special day for our aunts is long overdue.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
I have been blessed with a trio of magnificent aunts, and they couldn't have been more different personalities.
Aunt Jane was a nurse anesthesiologist who helped bring thousands of babies into the world. She never married, living with us all the years I was growing up. During World War II, Jane volunteered to serve and was sent to the South Pacific. She and her fellow Army Nurses (NOT WACS!) set up field hospitals right behind the front lines. When the bombers came over, she would haul her patients under the beds.
Aunt Jane was loved by the soldiers and the local people as well. One day an islander walked into the camp with a present for her... a live chicken!
My very stylish Aunt Vi also remained single. She was an office manager and an adventuresome traveler, crisscrossing America and Canada on the great trains of the 1920's, 1930's and 1940's.
Aunt Vi never learned to drive. One day when she was in her 80's, Vi got a call from our local hospital that her brother had taken a serious turn for the worse. She immediately ran out of the apartment into the middle of her busy street causing all traffic to come to a screeching halt. Aunt Vi asked the first driver she saw to drive her to the hospital because "my little brother is dying." The startled driver got her there in record time.
Aunt Peg married an Irishman and had six children. Her attitude toward life was simple and effective - get up, get working and keep smiling. Remarkably, she found spare time to become a first rate seamstress, upholsterer, community theater actress and unsurpassed thrift store shopper.
America has days set aside to honor mothers, fathers, grandparents and secretaries. I think a special day for our aunts is long overdue.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Aunts
A British author just wrote a book about the importance of aunts. I wish I had beat him to it.
I have been blessed with a trio of magnificent aunts, and they couldn't have been more different personalities.
Aunt Jane was a nurse anesthesiologist who helped bring thousands of babies into the world. She never married, living with us all the years I was growing up. During World War II, Jane volunteered to serve and was sent to the South Pacific. She and her fellow Army Nurses (NOT WACS!) set up field hospitals right behind the front lines. When the bombers came over, she would haul her patients under the beds.
Aunt Jane was loved by the soldiers and the local people as well. One day an islander walked into the camp with a present for her... a live chicken!
My very stylish Aunt Vi also remained single. She was an office manager and an adventuresome traveler, crisscrossing America and Canada on the great trains of the 1920's, 1930's and 1940's.
Aunt Vi never learned to drive. One day when she was in her 80's, Vi got a call from our local hospital that her brother had taken a serious turn for the worse. She immediately ran out of the apartment into the middle of her busy street causing all traffic to come to a screeching halt. Aunt Vi asked the first driver she saw to drive her to the hospital because "my little brother is dying." The startled driver got her there in record time.
Aunt Peg married an Irishman and had six children. Her attitude toward life was simple and effective - get up, get working and keep smiling. Remarkably, she found spare time to become a first rate seamstress, upholsterer, community theater actress and unsurpassed thrift store shopper.
America has days set aside to honor mothers, fathers, grandparents and secretaries. I think a special day for our aunts is long overdue.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
I have been blessed with a trio of magnificent aunts, and they couldn't have been more different personalities.
Aunt Jane was a nurse anesthesiologist who helped bring thousands of babies into the world. She never married, living with us all the years I was growing up. During World War II, Jane volunteered to serve and was sent to the South Pacific. She and her fellow Army Nurses (NOT WACS!) set up field hospitals right behind the front lines. When the bombers came over, she would haul her patients under the beds.
Aunt Jane was loved by the soldiers and the local people as well. One day an islander walked into the camp with a present for her... a live chicken!
My very stylish Aunt Vi also remained single. She was an office manager and an adventuresome traveler, crisscrossing America and Canada on the great trains of the 1920's, 1930's and 1940's.
Aunt Vi never learned to drive. One day when she was in her 80's, Vi got a call from our local hospital that her brother had taken a serious turn for the worse. She immediately ran out of the apartment into the middle of her busy street causing all traffic to come to a screeching halt. Aunt Vi asked the first driver she saw to drive her to the hospital because "my little brother is dying." The startled driver got her there in record time.
Aunt Peg married an Irishman and had six children. Her attitude toward life was simple and effective - get up, get working and keep smiling. Remarkably, she found spare time to become a first rate seamstress, upholsterer, community theater actress and unsurpassed thrift store shopper.
America has days set aside to honor mothers, fathers, grandparents and secretaries. I think a special day for our aunts is long overdue.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
T.P.
Teenage boys and cats have independently discovered a source of endless entertainment. Just give them a roll of toilet paper, and they immediately know what to do.
Compared to imbibing drugs or alcohol, TP-ing a yard is a benign form of adolescent male recreation. As parents, we were fully aware our son was indulging in the sport.
He invented a sure-fire method for a quick, spectacular attack. A case of generic toilet paper and a broom were all that was needed. Loading numerous rolls on the broom stick, he would twirl the broom in the air thus draping trees with multiple streamers simultaneously.
One memorable night he and his friends staged a spectacular raid on a girl's yard. The next day people came from miles around to photograph the results. No one got mad; they were too busy laughing.
The combination of our son's reputation and the 14 mature trees in our yard made our house an obvious target. Our son knew he was responsible for cleaning up the inevitable mess... before it rained. We know he spent one entire night in our yard climbing and un-decorating trees.
Cats have developed two approaches to toilet paper sport. The first simply involves unwinding an entire roll right off the roller onto the bathroom floor. If you are not a cat owner, you cannot begin to imagine how many mountains of T.P. are on a single roll.
Our cat, Pi, is a proponent of method two. He takes the roll off the holder and wrestles it through the entire house shredding it as he goes. This is known as "the snowstorm", and last week we recorded three record-setting interior blizzards.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Compared to imbibing drugs or alcohol, TP-ing a yard is a benign form of adolescent male recreation. As parents, we were fully aware our son was indulging in the sport.
He invented a sure-fire method for a quick, spectacular attack. A case of generic toilet paper and a broom were all that was needed. Loading numerous rolls on the broom stick, he would twirl the broom in the air thus draping trees with multiple streamers simultaneously.
One memorable night he and his friends staged a spectacular raid on a girl's yard. The next day people came from miles around to photograph the results. No one got mad; they were too busy laughing.
The combination of our son's reputation and the 14 mature trees in our yard made our house an obvious target. Our son knew he was responsible for cleaning up the inevitable mess... before it rained. We know he spent one entire night in our yard climbing and un-decorating trees.
Cats have developed two approaches to toilet paper sport. The first simply involves unwinding an entire roll right off the roller onto the bathroom floor. If you are not a cat owner, you cannot begin to imagine how many mountains of T.P. are on a single roll.
Our cat, Pi, is a proponent of method two. He takes the roll off the holder and wrestles it through the entire house shredding it as he goes. This is known as "the snowstorm", and last week we recorded three record-setting interior blizzards.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
T.P.
Teenage boys and cats have independently discovered a source of endless entertainment. Just give them a roll of toilet paper, and they immediately know what to do.
Compared to imbibing drugs or alcohol, TP-ing a yard is a benign form of adolescent male recreation. As parents, we were fully aware our son was indulging in the sport.
He invented a sure-fire method for a quick, spectacular attack. A case of generic toilet paper and a broom were all that was needed. Loading numerous rolls on the broom stick, he would twirl the broom in the air thus draping trees with multiple streamers simultaneously.
One memorable night he and his friends staged a spectacular raid on a girl's yard. The next day people came from miles around to photograph the results. No one got mad; they were too busy laughing.
The combination of our son's reputation and the 14 mature trees in our yard made our house an obvious target. Our son knew he was responsible for cleaning up the inevitable mess... before it rained. We know he spent one entire night in our yard climbing and un-decorating trees.
Cats have developed two approaches to toilet paper sport. The first simply involves unwinding an entire roll right off the roller onto the bathroom floor. If you are not a cat owner, you cannot begin to imagine how many mountains of T.P. are on a single roll.
Our cat, Pi, is a proponent of method two. He takes the roll off the holder and wrestles it through the entire house shredding it as he goes. This is known as "the snowstorm", and last week we recorded three record-setting interior blizzards.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Compared to imbibing drugs or alcohol, TP-ing a yard is a benign form of adolescent male recreation. As parents, we were fully aware our son was indulging in the sport.
He invented a sure-fire method for a quick, spectacular attack. A case of generic toilet paper and a broom were all that was needed. Loading numerous rolls on the broom stick, he would twirl the broom in the air thus draping trees with multiple streamers simultaneously.
One memorable night he and his friends staged a spectacular raid on a girl's yard. The next day people came from miles around to photograph the results. No one got mad; they were too busy laughing.
The combination of our son's reputation and the 14 mature trees in our yard made our house an obvious target. Our son knew he was responsible for cleaning up the inevitable mess... before it rained. We know he spent one entire night in our yard climbing and un-decorating trees.
Cats have developed two approaches to toilet paper sport. The first simply involves unwinding an entire roll right off the roller onto the bathroom floor. If you are not a cat owner, you cannot begin to imagine how many mountains of T.P. are on a single roll.
Our cat, Pi, is a proponent of method two. He takes the roll off the holder and wrestles it through the entire house shredding it as he goes. This is known as "the snowstorm", and last week we recorded three record-setting interior blizzards.
Please click here if you wish to send me a comment
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)