I know I am in a good space when I start making soup. I love filling a pot with water and then contemplating what should go in next. As the water heats, I forage for veggies, spices, fresh herbs, pasta noodles and something to start it off like a ham bone Chicken legs or turkey neck from the freezer. First things first I saute the mirapoix--carrots, celery and onions in butter--and slide it into the pot. Add a bay leaf or two and a teaspoon of each of my favorite spices--thyme, basil, parsley, and oregano. Then I drop in the meat and let it simmer. What's next? Big chunks of carrot, onion, potato. A yam chopped small. Some leftover sweetcorn, haricot vert, and brussel sprouts that have been hanging out in the fridge. A dash of good olive oil and a handful of fresh rosemary from the garden. Then peppercorns--green, red and black. A little more dried thyme. Spaghetti noodles broken up small. Saffron. Simmer.It looks beautiful in my french blue pot--all the ingredients bobbing about together, the aroma carried up by the steam that rolls and rolls to the ceiling. I take in a deep breath. Life is good.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Simmering Provencal style
I know I am in a good space when I start making soup. I love filling a pot with water and then contemplating what should go in next. As the water heats, I forage for veggies, spices, fresh herbs, pasta noodles and something to start it off like a ham bone Chicken legs or turkey neck from the freezer. First things first I saute the mirapoix--carrots, celery and onions in butter--and slide it into the pot. Add a bay leaf or two and a teaspoon of each of my favorite spices--thyme, basil, parsley, and oregano. Then I drop in the meat and let it simmer. What's next? Big chunks of carrot, onion, potato. A yam chopped small. Some leftover sweetcorn, haricot vert, and brussel sprouts that have been hanging out in the fridge. A dash of good olive oil and a handful of fresh rosemary from the garden. Then peppercorns--green, red and black. A little more dried thyme. Spaghetti noodles broken up small. Saffron. Simmer.It looks beautiful in my french blue pot--all the ingredients bobbing about together, the aroma carried up by the steam that rolls and rolls to the ceiling. I take in a deep breath. Life is good.
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About Me
- Jean
- 1,971 miles from Nashville where my identical twin lives.
- I was raised on a Mennonite Farm in Illinois. From the cornfields I made my way to inner city Philadelphia to live and work with kids who were the poorest of the poor but the brightest kids in the world. Later I took food and clothing to the homeless and prostitutes on the streets of NYC who opened my eyes to real poverty of spirit. Later I created fundraisers for AIDS patients, taught 2nd language learners about poetry, film and beauty and finally came to higher education to meet some of the most innovative, courageous and funky grads you could ever meet--at a place called Pitzer College. I live for moments of beauty and flashes of enlightenment. Sometimes life is just burnt out ends of smokey days (T.S. Eliot)or an ordinary cup of coffee. And sometimes it's that delicious misty morning overlooking Lake Atitlan in Guatemala in 1984 that I can never get out of my head. Ever. Either way, this story is going some where. Come along, if you like.
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