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

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
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simple bruschetta a la minute: saying something and doing something are totally different things

Wouldn't you know it, the very SECOND I open my gaping pie-hole about owning up to my responsibilities as an adult, I get tested. I don't believe in any kind of karma or universal smack down in general, but I do find it quite funny (and not in a "not unless clowns are funny" kind of way) that right when I tell the world (OK, when I tell you, Mom, and you, Unnamed Visitor #2) via my blog that I am growing up and kicking some Elvis-style-TCB ass, my car decides to go on strike.

Yes, 11 year old cars have a tendency to do this. And yes, I've kind of shirked some of my car owner responsibilities as of late, too (shocking, right?), so it's really not much of a surprise that it's my turn to have to deal with the unpleasantness of bending over for a mechanic.

Because I'm still teenager sitting (more on my fabulous weekend of zero sleep, Facebook status feed Olympic spoilers and stress-induced nerve damage later) I totally lucked out and happened to have said teenager's dad's car in the garage for my use. It does alleviate the pressure of having to pay for a rental on top of what I expect will be a pretty grotesque bill, so I've got that going for me, which is nice. But I really freaked out to myself when I initially sat in my car and it did nothing but grind and moan and tell me it was officially done with my ass.

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PostedJuly 30, 2012
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessalad, vegetarian, appetizers and snacks
Tagsburrata, growingupsucks, poolside, bruschetta, Innercity Velvet, Jenni Jihad, appetizer, basil, snack, carpocalypse, Terror Teen
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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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pasta e fagioli with homemade pesto: who says "soup sucks?"

There’s this famous chef who is a tad portly and has been known to wear orange clogs (let’s just call him Mario). He has also been known to say “soup sucks.” And while it may be true that I have a somewhat fragile sensibility, and it may also be true that this “Let’s Just Call Him Mario” guy is most definitely one of the greatest living chefs, I have to fervently disagree with him on this point. It might actually be the one thing I could ever go croc to croc with him about. 

I mean, really, what kind of culinary scrooge do you have to be to hate soup? 

Soup is universal. Every culture makes it in some form or fashion. 

Soup is communal. What other dish is served from a single pot around a table?

Soup is economical. You can feed a lot of people with few fresh ingredients.

Soup can be a whole meal onto itself. What other course of dining is so all-encompassing?

Soup is humble but can be a full expression of subtle (or bold) flavor.

Soup is patient, soup is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast (unless it wins a Beard Award and then watch out, it turns into a real douche), it is not proud (unless it gets a shout-out in Bon Appetit). It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs (unless it’s name is Bourdain; well, not really-- I’m IN LOVE with that guy). Soup does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Not to be grandiose or anything.

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PostedSeptember 8, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesvegetarian, soup
Tagsno crocs no way, recipe, pine nuts, stelline, caprese, beans beans beans, pasta, Let's Just Call Him Mario, arugula, basil, Italy, olive oil gelato, US Customs, soupapalooza!, pesto, soup sucks, olive oil cakes, fagioli, rosemary, Jihad Jenni
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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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