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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
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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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olive oil gelato: the Baron of the Borgo, Bossy, Beefcake and Bologna... and a club sandwich at the Four Seasons

I’ve been home from Italy for a week now, and I can no longer claim jet lag as a reasonable explanation for my lack of posting; I’m going to sum up, with as much efficiency as I can muster, the last tidbits of the soupapolooza! goes to Italy summer. 

There was a shin-dig for Ferragosto, which is an Italian holiday that has something to do with the ascension of Mary, but don’t ask me what that means since I was raised by godless heathens, thankyouverymuch. But nonetheless, Bossy and I chose to celebrate this holiday by braising a shinbone (called a “stinco” in Italian, tee-hee) and inviting our international friends over for some drunken reveling.

There were also two more trips into Florence, both unsuccessful in their promise of the now unicorn-like vintage silver gelato spoons. On the first excursion, a Sunday, we blindly brought the Cinquecento into the city center without consulting a map. It wasn’t pretty, made even less pretty when we found ourselves squeezing (and screeching) down a one-way street exactly the wrong way. We did get another excellent lunch and dinner (pizza!!!) with Beefcake and the Baron before we drove back to Panicale, dejected and stuffed.

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PostedSeptember 4, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesdesserts & sweet treats, vegetarian
Tagsumbria, recipe, vintage silver gelato spoons are like unicorns, Four Seasons Florence, Extra Virgin Olive Oil, shin-dig, EVOO, panicale, franciacorta, affogato, Ferragosto, august adventure, umbrian adventure, Italian Adventure, olive oil gelato, silver gelato spoons, florence, soupapalooza!, Beefcake, Bossy, Baron of the Borgo, Vivoli, gelato, $100 club sandwiches, cinquecento, dessert
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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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