Stone Souping MyselfMany nights after stomping homeward, the immediate difficulty is food. Depending on the day, dinner might be a hunk of good bread and soup from the freezer heated up in a saucepan. For the times when I didn't put together a pot of soup the previous weekend, I have a collection of (pretty good) cans of soup in the pantry. If I really have it together (only sometimes) I whomp up something from scratch. I trick myself into doing that, sometimes.
It has been a long day; the cans of soup are compelling. I take one down, and happen to spy a little bit of pancetta in the fridge. That's a possibility: that could go into the soup, pump it up a bit. I chop that up and toss it in the bottom of a saucepan. While that is sizzling and filling the kitchen with goodness, I note the onions in the cupboard, and consider that the cutting board and knife are already out. Some onions go into the pancetta fat and begin to sweeten. It would be easy at this point to dump in the canned soup and be done, but: well, there's already a pot going, and one part lentils and four parts liquid (one part stock, one part water, maybe) a bit of ground ajwain, and in a bit there is soup of my own, and the can can settle back into the pantry.
Squalls of snow are moving through, blurring the lines of the hills and lightening the sky. It is going to be cold tonight. I should see about fixing the fireplace.
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