the bomb cyclone!!!
i really love how marketable snowstorms have become.
in the olden days,
when i was a kid,
we just called that sh!t winter, and left it at that.
there's storms with names, and titles, like the entire season is part of
some sort of three month weather-pattern pro-wrestling circuit.
that is weird to me.
but, i also kinda like it.
y'gotta sell milk and bread and cereal to moms somehow, right?
almost as dumb as all the pick'em-up trucktards rear-wheel driving
themselves around on a tour of nowhere,
at speed, from the instant there's the first falling frosty flake....
daaaaaamn, it feels good to not be like that.
no offense intended to the snack-panicked mamas at the grocery,
or the workbooted roadhogs menacing these slick streets of snow and ice.
y'know what i did instead of either of those things?
i stayed home in the hopes that my semi-severed finger would do some mending.
y'know what else i did?
i made some pretty flippin' ridiculously tasty soup, and one handed, at that.
yes, i did!
no, for real-
at first, it was just a pot of stuff taking a long hot bath,
but it became a powerful batch of from-scratch warmth, comfort, and sustenance.
i mean it.
check the teleport:
my adoptive parents, patti and dennis got me some kickass new pots,
and while i can't say for certain that they made all the difference,
i'm pretty sure that the new pottness was a large part of the new hottness.
kids, it's got ALL the goodness in it.
...and i've got to add another point here-
if y'all ain't F*ing with croutons in your soup,
then you're just F*ing up.
these croutons are the TRUTH!!!
crispity-crunchy homemade oatmeal sourdough, from the first bake of the new year,
slab-sliced, and diced, and activated with an herb-crusty coating prior to toasting.
on the ones, they took a big bathtub of barbarian boil-up,
and turned it waaaaay up past a perfect ten, to eleven.
a big plastic bag, a few chopped slices, and a couple glugs of olive oil to coat 'em,
tossed with nootch, GPOP, thyme, sage, salt, pepper, dry parsley, and dill,
to boost up the exxxplosion quotient.
baked at 350℉ for ten, turned once, and toasted for another 'nother ten....
holy sh!tballs, these little niblets really brought it.
sponges of creamy. dreamy flavor activation, and broth absorption, all at once.
you need them.
... and the soup itself?
it's no slouch, either.
minestrone is pretty much a n.t.s.w.t.s., y'know?
oh, yes, you do-
it's a never the same way twice soup.
which is s'dope.
here's what i did this time,
but feel free to ignore any and/or all of it:
in your trusty soup pot, heat up 2 T olive oil-
add one minced onion ( i had some leek, and i tossed that in, too);
half a poblano pepper, diced;
2 peeled sliced medium carrots;
2 diced celery stalks;
3 cloves crushed garlic.
wilt those veggies, add a dash of salt, 33 craxxx of black pepper,
a big splash of red wine vinegar, and a tablespoon of soy sauce....
that's what you do before you add a 15oz can of petite cut diced tomatoes including the juice.
keep the heat high,
and add a punch of nootch, a big ol' shake of GPOP,
fresh chopped rosemary, oregano, thyme, sage, and a bay leaf....
plus a diced skin-on potato, a cup of black beans,
and a big scoop of halved brussels sprouts....
give that all a little bubble-up for a few minutes.
a few teaspoons of better than bouillon soup base;
six cups of water;
and a cup of chick peas.
simmer that on medium heat for fifteen minutes, and toss in:
1 cup shredded cabbage;
1/2 cup kyoot lil pasta shells,
and eff off for twenty minutes while that gently simmers down.
right at the end, i dropped in a handful of chopped parsley sprankles,
and a massive double-handed heap of baby spinach...
holy crap, friends, that was IT!
all the goodness, all the textures, that thiqqq broth,
those soft potatoes,
and those tight mutha-b!tchin' croutons!!!
so i really did myself a mischief.
...and now my left hand is pretty much a bummer.
well, it's just the one finger,
but it's bad, dudes.
and shoveling snow only served to reopen it and bring on the blood.
sorry, guys, i know that's gross.
like, firsthand, i know it's SO F*ING GROSS.
fun fact about y'boi, neighbors-
i hate blood, like, the most.
and that's just when it's IN your body.
now, when it's on the outside?
i'm basically the least psyched i can be.
after cats and wind, but tied with sports- blood is Off The List.
i know it's a necessary sauce to power all the words, and thoughts and limbs on a guy,
but damn, why's it gotta be such a salty, syrupy, horrifying, scented mess?
and why's it so had to clean up???
that's pretty much where i'm at.
luckily, there's epic heaps of snow everywhere,
so i'm shoveling, and reopening this awful missing piece over and over and over.
normally, i'd have to say that too much is the right amount-
however, too much blood squishing around in a mitten, through gauze and tape and all that
is not enough awesomeness for me to feel excited about.
maybe a little nauseous, but that's about it.
i'm just sayin',
this F*ing soup better have wendigo powers like from the movie ravenous-
there's probably NOT any actual blood in it (it's very thoroughly bandaged),
so i'm going to have to resign myself to comfort and nutrients
and other less heroic healing factors.
...at least it's impossibly delicious.
that's good news, anyway;
never quiet, never soft.....