One year. Twelve months, Fifty-two weeks, 365 days, 8,760 hours, give or take the few that need to be classified as “lost”...
It feels like I just started this little adventure and it’s been a thousand years all at the same time.
This Sunday, soupapolooza! is one. And like any proud mother whose offspring is reaching a milestone, I can’t help but think about how this thing I imagined is nothing like I imagined; that it has its own ideas independent of my expectations and I am powerless to do anything about it. That everything and nothing have happened all at the same time-- and that I’ve been living my life in the moments in between.
I didn’t know what would happen when I started cooking. I hoped I would learn how to dice and that I would understand a little more about what makes good, healthy food (I have). I hoped that other people might the enjoy stuff I created and join me for a few hours a week (they did). And I hoped I wouldn’t poison them (I haven’t).
Here’s what I didn’t plan for in this year since I started making soup:
I didn’t plan on the cases of BandAids and tubes of Neosporin I would need to stop the constant bleeding and soothe the perpetual burning on my hands.
I didn’t plan on making an almost perfect roux and on not knowing that I should not pick up the whisk with my fingers when it fell into this “southern napalm”.
I didn’t plan on spending three miserable days making a proper Bolognese.
I didn’t plan on making soup straight from a text message sent by a Jedi Master.
I didn’t plan on car sickness for an entire month in Italy.
I didn’t plan on a broken heart.
I didn’t plan on behaving scandalously on a first date with a stand up comedian.
I didn’t plan on losing my appetite for lamb.
I didn’t plan on serving meat soup to a vegetarian.
I didn’t plan on anyone other than my mother caring about any of it.
Thank you for reading and for coming over.
Thank you for commenting and/ or for caring.
Thank you for bringing over libations (especially the Nocino and the Franciacorta).
Thank you for being my friends and helping me learn to cook.
Who knows what the next twelve months will bring, but I am really looking forward to finding out.
Raise your glass and light a candle and...