the stories
the kitchen
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the drop me a line part
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soupapalooza!

the stories
the kitchen
the market
the proof (party pics!)
the food porn
the recipes
the about
the drop me a line part
the resources
the full list
jewelry alchemy

curried cauliflower with lime yogurt and sautéed vegetables: the accidental vegan (sort of)

Things at March’s soupapolooza! started off with a bang. Literally. And while I get super irritated with people who misuse and/ or overuse the term “literally” (I’m looking at you with my side-eye, Rachel Zoe), it is both appropriate and correct in this instance. It was buh-nan-ahs.

Semi-sweet Bitters showed up early on Sunday, as he always does, prepared to cut lemons, fill water bottles, light candles or whatever else I’d managed to forget or ignore. I love this. Even when entertaining close friends who are by nature pretty forgiving, I still stress about having things ready to go before the first arrivals (and by the way, I’m never on time). So the fact that Semi-sweet is almost always the premier guest and he’s game for completing the incomplete, I’m spared a great deal of hair pulling and some serious bouts of Procrastinator’s Agita. 

It is also not uncommon for Semi-sweet Bitters to bring his sabre, for sabrage naturally, which is a crowd pleaser to be sure: who doesn’t love watching someone decapitate the top of a champagne bottle with a sword? I have amassed quite a collection of trophies of this handy work on top of my sink, beautiful champagne corks with their glass necks still wrapped around the collar. I love them. They’re kind of like my version of taxidermy animal heads on a study wall, except I don’t have a study and the only things that got killed and stuffed are my sobriety and my good judgement. 

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PostedMarch 17, 2011
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesvegan, vegetarian, soup
Tagspear cardamom chutney, spinach salad, lime yogurt, recipe, triple vanilla cupcake, can be tailored vegan, poor kitty, soup, fried pappadam, curry, Coulter = Secretariat, persian cucumber, soupapalooza!, samosas, cauliflower, bang!, you gotta have a gimmck, stunt baking, tamarind vinaigrette, bacon cupcakes, alcohol induced accidents, Semi-sweet Bitters
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s'mores cupcakes: inertia is a real bitch

My brother James is the “smart one” in the family (I’ll let you guess which “one” I am). This is something that all the members of our little clan--the clan McLeod!--have been acutely aware of since he was six years old, when James was sitting on a stool in a general store/ local bar for cattlemen in Neiderwald, Texas. This was the town next door to my grandparents’ ranch where we visited a couple of times a month. Serious cattle country this was and close to Lockhart where there is quite possibly the best BBQ on the planet at Black’s (this is a food blog so I’m going to try to make this somewhat relevant) and full of hard working, serious cowboys like my grandfather.

Anyway, a friend of my grandfather’s, a craggy old rancher, had asked my brother to play a game of checkers with him, thinking he would quickly kick the ass of the poor little six year old toe-headed city-kid with coke-bottle thick glasses and thereby teachin' him some hard scrabble ranch life lessons. But things didn’t pan out quite like the wrinkly old guy thought and my brother beat the bastard at quite a clip. I mean really quickly, like as in four turns or something equally embarrassing to a rough and tumble old man. Exasperated, and with the attention of everyone else in the honkey-tonk squarely on his shoulders, the old guy looked down at the board and then at my smiling, adorably lisping brother and he said, “Well, son, if yer so smart whattaya gunna be when ya grow up?”

I think he thought James would say something like “Astronaut!” or “Fireman!” or “Ballerina!” (you know those glasses were a tad emasculating, even for a six year old), but my awesome little jerk of a brother just blinked his artificially magnified eyes, looked up solidly to the old dude and said clearly, enunciating every syllable, “I am going to be a nuclear phythithitht.” (that’s a “nuclear physicist” in non-lisp). Period. And he shut down the conversation right there. And the hoots and laughter of everyone in the bar delighted and surprised James so much that even he, himself, knew right then and there that he was a powerfully smart human being. Or at least one with really good comedic timing. Which he doesn’t actually possess. Ask me about the inappropriate pedophilia joke he told at the Christmas dinner table sometime. It never fails to impress. I’m kind of convinced it’s why my mom and stepfather divorced, but I digress...

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PostedMarch 1, 2011
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesdesserts & sweet treats, vegetarian
TagsTexas BBQ, inertia, marshmallow fluff, ganache, cupcakes, spelling bee FAIL, comfort food, graham cracker cupcake, s'mores, campfire casual
2 CommentsPost a comment

mini doughnuts and cinnamon ice cream: sweet treats from the fully-outfitted kitchen of a sour sport

Back in Junior High School, or “Intermediate” as it is known in the parts where I’m from, I signed up for every imaginable sport. Now I know that those of you who know me in this phase of my life are leaning back in your chairs, patting your stomachs and cackling in disbelief (I know for sure some of you indeed cackle when you call “bullshit”), but there was a time in my youth when my butt lined the bench of every B-Team sport to play in the gym of the mighty, mighty CLIS Eagles and in gyms throughout the greater Clear Creek Independent School District.

Before I even got to Jr. High there was ballet, swim team, drill team, cheerleading (I still just ooze pep and sincerity, right? You haven’t lived until you’ve witnessed my bubble letter writing) and gymnastics. At CLIS there was volleyball, basketball and track; the fifty meter hurdles being the only event of which I showed any sort of natural aptitude. After high school I dabbled in riding horses and I literally had a five minute affair with tennis, a particularly embarrassing moment in which I joined a club, bought four or five tennis skirts, a pair of K-Swiss shoes and the panties that you can stuff your extra balls in (get your head out of the gutter), and I signed myself up for a private lesson. My dad had told me earlier in the month that all well-bred young ladies should play tennis. Which was particularly funny since I’m certainly not very well-bred, among other things. Anyway, I drove myself to my inaugural lesson all decked out in Le Coq Sportif fare, tossing my pony tail as I walked into the office of the club like an annoying, totally entitled bourgeois peacock.

“I’m here for my lesson!” I told the lady at the front desk.

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PostedJanuary 29, 2011
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesdesserts & sweet treats, vegetarian
TagsWylde Mountain Thyme, recipe, hubris, cinnamon, doughnuts, Silver Palate Cookbook, sweet tooth, fried stuff, soupapalooza!, gear, Moosewood Cookbook, sporty spice, Nike Pre, gelato, ice cream, tennis trauma
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texas chili and chipotle deviled eggs: it's my 39th birthday and I'll cry if I want to

So one day you’re just walking along, making fun of your friends for their freaking out about turning forty (I mean, really, what’s the big deal, it’s a DAY), checking out the birds in the sky (my how they sing!), when BAM!!! You fall into the great pothole that NO ONE warns you about-- yes, the Great Pothole that is your 39th Birthday. 

I’ve never really had trouble with my birthday. OK, that’s a blatant LIE. I have an ill-timed anniversary of my arrival: close enough to the holidays that it usually warrants one gift for both occasions, but far enough away that excitement has turned into foundering and bills have arrived. Everyone always at least pretends that they’ll be totally up for a celebration, but are in actuality usually too exhausted and spent four days into the new year to actually show up. It sucks. And I vociferously complain about it every year to any (and every) willing pair of ears.

But the idea of getting older has never much bothered me. Turning 30 was a breeze-- I was thrilled to say goodbye to my reckless and chaotic twenties and have never much looked back except to wonder why I couldn’t accept at that time that my ass and my face were the best they’d ever be. Now THAT was a waste of a decade. But I digress. I never saw the great existential crisis of 39 coming.

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PostedJanuary 25, 2011
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup
Tagsrecipe, chipotle, sunday birthday sunday, eggcellent, pigs in a blanket, soup, the great pothole of 39, Texas chili, panic button, soupapalooza!, honey and sage cornbread, suet, bourbon banana pudding
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soupy black beans with masa harina dumplings: soup, the whole soup and nothing but the soup

It’s been the perfect storm: a combination of writer’s block, holiday derailment and the stomach flu. That means spotty (uh, I mean no) blog coverage. It also means that I’ve scaled back soupapolooza! to a monthly exercise instead of a weekly one. You see, as much as the soup has saved me (thank you very much, Julie and Julia) it has also broken me. And as I am already morally destitute, I can’t really afford to be penniless, too. I kind of kid. Honestly, I’m pulling back a bit because of the crazy holiday schedule and because I’m working on some very exciting projects. But never you fear! I’m still souping and will be souping on an even larger scale in the coming months (hint hint)...please stay tuned.

We did have our now monthly gathering this Sunday last* and we had a special visitor-- my college pal, LC: kind of like Lauren Conrad (also LC) of “Laguna Beach” and “The Hills” fame, only slightly smarter and without a franken-boob sidekick and her fame-whoring husband Spencer. My LC is a badass. Even if she doesn’t have her own reality series, which, of course, all the best people do. But I digress.

Anywho, I was thinking, here it is December in LA, and it’s kind of, well, weathery, which is strange, so how will I keep my guests warm in my mostly concrete and unheated cavernous loft? Why chiles and black beans, of course, with masa harina dumplings...

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PostedDecember 10, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesvegetarian, soup
Tagsspicy greens, excuses excuses excuses, black beans, soupapalooza!, flaming rum punch, doughnuts, Bad Auntie, cinnamon ice cream, masa harina, guacamole, South Park Creme Fraiche, anchovy vinaigrette, LC!, dumplings, soup, Semi-sweet Bitters
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goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

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Why? Because soup is cheap, delicious and easy. Kind of like me.

a weekly attempt to eat well and to savor life. or to see how much food I can get on my clothes.

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