the stories
the kitchen
the market
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the food porn
the recipes
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the drop me a line part
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the full list
jewelry alchemy

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

cream of red bell pepper: roses are red and so is my face

Remember the episode of “Sex and the City” (I think it was titled “Freak Show”) where the girls are bemoaning the freaks they seem to attract even though they’re all so normal only to then have Carrie tear into her new boyfriend’s drawers and closet (whole apartment really) for clues about his possible freakiness? While carnival music plays in the background she realizes, upon getting totally busted by this nice, totally benign guy, that she’s actually the freak show... 

Well, it was me who was Le Freak (not so chic!) this week, even though I pride myself on my almost pathologically boring, non-craziness and I really, really am loathe to refer to Sex and the City after that truly shiteous sequel.

This is the point where the Tiny Dancer might want to avert her eyes and skip to the recipe (sorry, Mom)...

I had a date. Cue the carnival music.

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PostedSeptember 16, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesvegetarian, soup
TagsGorgeous G, Hillel-arious, recipe, One Night Stand-Up, sake is not your friend, tomato crostini, Blame it on the Billecart, red leaf salad with zinfandel vinaigrette, basil, creme fraiche, soupapalooza!, Eric "Lips" Ripert, Nocino, I love you Anthony Bourdain, mozzarella, roasted, Semi-Sweet Bitters, soup and the single girl, red face, macerated strawberries and balsamic vinegar, crostini, soup, bloody gazpacho shots, no making out in sushi bars, red pepper, a nice girl doesn't scratch and tell, charcuterie, Girls That Attack, DO NOT READ THIS ONE MOM
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white corn with poblano cream puree: LAX CDG BLQ (updating in umbria)

I have made it through my first week in Umbria, having suffered through a mild case of jet lag and uncomfortable travel shoes, to find myself relaxed, no longer pronouncing my Italian “gi” as two syllables and with a gullet continuously full of Prosecco and Chianti. This would probably mean that getting out the post about the last stateside soupapaloooza! from TWO weeks ago is kind of important so I can move on to the really fun Italy stuff like handsome famous butchers and hand forged copper pots; both of these things appealing to the true inner geek in me. But I would not be doing anyone any favors if I failed to mention the delicious American soup and the great party that we had back at the loft so many time zones ago.

I’ve never been a huge fan of corn. My mom, the Tiny Dancer, loves it and prepared it all the time when I was little, but I hated the way the silks would get caught between my teeth and there was something that, to me, seemed so undignified about the sloppiness of nibbling it off the cob. I was a fairly persnickety kid, shocking, I know. I also hated the way she considered corn a vegetable, which it kind of is not. “Kind of” because it’s a crop that is usually harvested to be dried and made into a grain, though the fresh corn we eat is technically vegetable because of how we eat it. It’s still sugary as all get out and I consider it more of a grain, and grains and sugars have a tendency to make me kind of grumpy, which no one needs to be around to see. I’ve generally steered away from the corn vendors at the street fairs and at places like Café Habana in New York despite their tremendous gravitational force.

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PostedAugust 8, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup
Tagspinchy travel shoes, umbria, recipe, white corn, getting 50 ears of corn to your car is a workout, soup, buttermilk ice cream, corn, umbrian adventure, august adventure, zucchini, soupapalooza!, jetlag, blueberry cobbler, zucchini salad, poblano, Semi-Sweet Bitters, meal worms
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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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