Food for Thought
3:20 p.m. - 2006-11-15
This morning, when I left the house, it was warm and sunny. I dressed in a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops. I put Ali in a onesie and stuck her feet into her little Ugg knockoffs with the pom-poms on the lacings.
We went to visit my parents for a few hours, and I left Ali there napping to make a run to the grocery store. When I stepped out the door, a gust of bone-chilling wind nearly knocked me over, and a fine mist of rain slapped against my face. Seems that while I was indoors the temperature decided to plummet about twenty degrees or so. I wrapped my arms around myself and ran to the car.
I hadn't been sure what I was going to make for supper before, but the drastic weather change made my choice a simple one. Soup or stew it would be. Something warm and creamy and filling would be absolutely perfect for a day like today. I knew that I wasn't in the mood for vegetable, and I briefly toyed with the idea of bean or broccoli and cheese, but in the end I decided that potato soup would fit the bill perfectly.
Except...I've never made potato soup. My mother used to make a delicious one, but she couldn't remember the exact recipe. She knew the ingredients well enough, though, so I bought potatoes, bacon, green onions, sour cream, butter, and milk. I figured I could look at a few recipes online when I got home, and then do what I usually do: take bits and pieces from each one to make something of my own.
I also picked up a tube of walnut chocolate chip cookie dough. (I'm too lazy to make them from scratch, and I like the pre-packaged ones anyway.) I've been very good for the past few months, cutting out virtually all sweets, and I've managed to lose nearly 20 pounds because of it. I decided that my diet wouldn't be completely ruined by a few cookies, and honestly? I deserve it.
After I finished shopping, I picked Ali up from her Mimi's, and headed home. My hankering for cookies just couldn't wait, so I spooned out the dough onto a baking sheet (saving a couple of spoonfuls of the raw dough to eat right away, of course) and popped the pan into the oven. Eight or so minutes later, the cookies were perfect. Crispy on the outside, brown around the edges, and not quite done in the middle. If I'd let them go just a minute or so longer they'd have been too done for my taste. I scarfed down two with a glass of milk as soon as they cooled enough to touch, and my GOD, they were delectable. Still hot in the middle, the chocolate chips were melty, and the dough was just slightly gooey inside.
Then I started to work on the soup. I couldn't finish it too early, because I didn't know what time Alan would be home (he's working about an hour away this week, so he's been coming home every night) and it's not supposed to cook for a long time because of the milk involved. I got all the prep work done and realized that I wanted a snack.
I'd bought a head of cauliflower at the grocery store, so I cut it in half, sliced it thinly, coated it in olive oil, salt and pepper, and popped it in the oven at 450 degrees for about 25 minutes. I stirred/flipped it a couple of times while it was cooking, and then transferred it to a plate and chowed down. So, so good...I've never roasted it before, but it's going to become a pretty regular side dish around here.
Now it's 5:50 p.m., and I just got a call from Alan to let me know that he'll be home in an hour or so. I figure I'll wait about thirty minutes before I put the soup on, and that way it should be ready just about the time he walks in the door. If it turns out well, I'll post the recipe tomorrow.
I'm going to do the best I can to write here at least three times a week, and hopefully it'll be more than that. As I told my good friend today, I feel like I miss out on so much when I don't write. When I'm writing here, I notice so much more about the world around me. I find inspiration in the most unlikely places, and I'm constantly musing over possibilites for an entry. When I don't write, I tend to ignore everything. I don't notice the small miracles that happen all the time. My mind kind of goes on autopilot, adn I feel as though I lose touch with myself and my surroundings.
Hopefully I can keep that from happening again, because this space has meant so much to me for the past four (FOUR?!!) years. Not only the journal itself, but the few people who read (or USED to read) it. I've missed writing, but even more importantly, I've missed y'all.