in which a tale is told about the preparation of soup

Anne is helping a friend move today, so she went down to The OC last night, in order to avoid the hellish traffic that exists on the Southern California freeways between 6am and 10pm just about every day of the week. 

This meant that Nolan and I were alone last night, free to watch the original Rollerball while dining on Bachelor Chow (Last night's particular version of Bachelor Chow took the form of a quesadilla, dressed up with diced Ortega chiles, fresh pico de gallo, and of course jalapeños … now that I think of it, this is more like advanced Bachelor Chow.)

But the tale I wish to spin for you today is not about how much we loved the art direction in Rollerball, or how I burned the everlivingfuck out of my hand on the pan while cooking what ended up being a fantastic dinner. No, the tale I wish to spin for you today is about something that happened earlier this week, when Anne was home and we made an absolutely sensational butternut squash soup using a recipe in the Whole Foods Cookbook.

"It's going to be cold and windy tonight," Anne said that afternoon as we stood in the kitchen and contemplated dinner.

"It's cold and windy right now," I said.

"Yes. That's how I know it's going to be cold and windy tonight. It feels like fall, so I want to make something hearty for dinner."

"Something Autumnal?" I said.

"Um…"

"Something that screams HARVEST!" I said, punctuating the word with jazz hands.

"Sure. Whatever. Let's make some soup with that squash you bought yesterday."

I picked the squash up off the counter and cradled it in my arms like it was a baby. "Do you want to be soup? Do you want to be soup?! I bet you'd be a delicious soup! Yes you would! Yes you would! Yummy, yummy soup!"

Anne and I have been together for 14 years, married for just a few weeks shy of 10 of those years, and it wasn't until that moment that I learned just how much she doesn't like it when people use baby talk with squash. (So just keep in mind, kids: even when you're old like we are, and you've been together for something in the neighborhood of 5000 days, there are still exciting new things to discover about each other.)

A withering glance was delivered, an apology was issued, and a squash was gingerly placed back on the counter without any cooing. Then, a list of needed ingredients was made, taken to the store and filled, and 40 minutes later we were peeling and chopping vegetables for our soup.

Our dog, Riley, came into the kitchen while we worked. "HEY GUISE I WANT TO GO OUTSIDE!" 

"No you don't," I said, scooping seeds out of the squash, "it's cold and windy out there."

"WANT TO GO OUTSIDE! OPEN DOOR NOW PLEASE OKAY!"

"You'd better let her out," Anne said.

"She's just going to turn around and come right back in," I said, but I let her out anyway.

A gust of cold wind blew some leaves into our kitchen, and I closed the door quickly behind her. "Holy crap, it's cold out there," I said.

I took four steps back toward the counter when I heard Riley scratching at the door. I gave Anne the "told you so" look (I learned it by watching her, I swear!) and let Riley back into the house.

"OH MY GOD YOU GUISE IT'S SO COLD AND WINDY OUT THERE!" She said. "DO NOT WANT!"

"I know," I said, and went back to preparing dinner. i didn't bother with the "told you so" look, because dogs just aren't that perceptive.

Now, before I continue my little tale, I should point out that my dog didn't actually speak. Truly, a talking dog would be a wondrous thing, worthy of a special report on the news and millions of dollars in television contracts and merchandising for her owner. No, my dog doesn't exactly speak, but over the years, I have developed an ability to pick up on and translate certain canine behaviors. Okay, back to business:

The vegetables were chopped, the spices were ground, the broth was poured and they were all combined in a large stockpot. Within minutes, our entire house was filled with the delicious and comforting aroma of our impending HARVEST-style meal.

Did I mention that I made Guinness bread? I don't think I did. I guess I should mention that, because it's important: I made Guinness bread, and that was also in the oven while the soup cooked. Seriously, the only thing our house was missing was Hobbits.

While the soup cooked and the bread baked, we cleaned up after ourselves. You know, like grown-ups do. "I think we should puree the soup when it's done," Anne said, as I washed a cutting board.

"That's going to be a problem," I said, "because we only have the blender and it's not nearly big enough for all this soup."

She looked at me, incredulous. "I'm pretty sure we don't have to do it all at once."

I set the cutting board into the drying rack.

"Okay," I said, "we'll puree the soup in the blender."

I thought, but did not say, "WILL IT BLEND?!"

"What are you giggling about?" She asked.

"Nerd stuff."

We had enough time to play a quick gin rummy before the timer went off. We've played a lot of this game, recently, which Nolan, apparently unfamiliar with bridge, has declared is "the official game of old people."

"You take the bread out of the oven," I said after Anne extended her undefeated gin rummy streak well into the double digits, "and I'll start ladling the soup into the blender."

It was a foolproof plan, and the first two cups of soup to be pureed came out beautifully. It smelled so good, my stomach said, "HEY WIL PUT FOOD IN ME RIGHT NOW."

"I'm working on it," I thought (please note that I can talk to my stomach with my thoughts) as I began putting the second batch of soup into the blender.

"You're putting way too much soup in there," Anne said.

"I'm fine," I said, eager to get the pureeing over with so we could get down to the eating part of our dinner. "I'll just hold the lid down when I turn it on."

I pressed the lid down tightly and held it down with my left hand. With my right, I pressed the button marked "puree."

I probably would have taken a moment to stare at the resulting butternut squash soup geyser, if the explosion of hot liquid hadn't burned the hell out of my hand, face, chest, and arm. I probably would have admired the CSI-like splatters of orange puree on the wall, the coffee maker, the microwave, and the refrigerator, if I hadn't been frantically stabbing at the buttons in an effort to silence the whirring blades which created it. But it wasn't until the moment had passed – really just a few seconds of chaos – that I was able to pause and appreciate what had just happened. I mean, it's not every day that a geyser erupts in my kitchen. Thank Steve the Fruitbat.

I turned around and looked at my wife, who appeared to have chosen a seat outside of the splash zone. "Um. I didn't think that would happen."

"Really."

I grabbed a hand towel and wiped myself off. "Yeah. I, um. I thought it would blend."

"Oh it blended. It blended everywhere."

I wiped soup off the wall, the coffee maker, the microwave, and the refrigerator. Our dog came in and helped me clean up some spots I hadn't noticed on the floor.

"I'm sorry about the mess," I said, trying not to sound too much like Han Solo, knowing that I was dangerously close to (deservedly) getting The Wrath.

"Just clean it up so we can finish this and eat, please."

I did, and then I made sure that the remaining soup was pureed no more than 16 ounces at a time. I also held a towel down over the lid, just in case. When we finally ate our bowls of soup – with thick slices of Guinness bread, I might add – it was truly wonderful, and exactly the kind of HARVEST (with jazz hands) meal we wanted … even if I was still cleaning up bits of dried soup off the freezer and dishwasher this morning.

127 thoughts on “in which a tale is told about the preparation of soup”

  2. I’m so glad to know that I’m not the only one who occasionally redecorates with soup. Did Riley at least get to help clean up (my dogs love it)?

  3. Aside from the description of great soup and bread, and your kitchen mishaps, the really delicious thing here is the description of your relationship. How nice that you share messes and gin rummy almost simultaneously. Others should be so fortunate. Obviously you’ve learned a thing or two about keeping a relationship alive.

  4. That really does sound good… although for some reason now I just want tomato soup and grilled cheese. Mmmm!
    My roasted pumpkin seeds last night were my traditional HARVEST foods.

  6. Thank you, you have just reminded me that it is time for the kissmychakram household to make a massive batch of soup for the winter. Cream of apple, tomato & celery FTMFW. Gods I’m hungry.

  8. Wil-
    First, every house needs Hobbits. 😀
    Second, I *love* your writing style. Just love it…
    Third, that soup sounds yummy!
    Fourth, a) my dog actually DID speak once and
    b) dogs do NOT have owners. They have guardians.
    Fifth, you & Anne absolutely ROCK.
    The end.
    -Alicia
    @AliciaWag

  11. Hahaha..I did the exact same thing last year with pumpkin soup after the stick blender I was using just wasn’t getting the job done. I was finding and cleaning up pumpkin splashes for the next week.

  18. I just had a quarter baked acorn squash (with brown sugar and butter – mmmmmm!) and some curried carrot soup for lunch. So I can totally relate to how good a Harvest (with jazz hands) meal can be!
    How is your hand that you burned?

  19. MMmmmm…you had me at Guinness bread. I’m sure I read the whole post. Something about dogs talking, windy, cold, soup, GUINNESS BREAD, blah, blah, blah… 😉
    Can haz recipe?

  22. Wil,
    I absolutely love reading stories like this on your blog. It’s why I became such a big fan initially, and why I keep reading to this day. You have such a wonderful knack for storytelling. 🙂

  23. I too have blown pumpkin soup all over the kitchen with a blender. Must be fairly common experience. What the world needs is a “man’s blender”. Something that can process about a gallon of stuff, with lots of blades. Something that will definitely blend an iPhone.
    Fortunately my wife loves it when I do things like this. As I stand there, stunned, with my head hung down and a defeated expression, staring at the mess I made, she laughs and says, “I’m so glad I have you to entertain me.” “Yes”, I say, “I live to entertain you.”
    Now I’m trying to figure out what kind of soup I can make for dinner tonight from what’s in the house.

  24. Thank you for sharing this wonderfully written tale.
    Blending the same amount of cold liquid might have worked but it’s impressive how much hot liquid can expand when agitated (and mixed with air). Physics is everywhere, even in the kitchen. 😉
    I second the suggestion of a stick blender but the same warning applies, it can splash quite a bit.
    I shall cuddle and coo at the butternut squash on my counter before I make soup tonight without retribution because I live on my own. 😉

  26. Apparently Nolan’s never heard of cribbage either.
    Awesome story. Havent laughed like that in awhile. Dogs speak just fine, thanks. And so do cats. It’s just a matter of being able to translate.

  27. Not Wil, but I live in So Cal. While it doesn’t get too cold this time of year by Iowa standards, 60 degrees with cold winds (yes, they really were cold winds) with gusts that averaged 35 MPH does get pretty chilly when you’re used to things staying pretty close to 70 degrees and balmy. (Though really, we do get crazy winds both hot and cold here)

  28. See, this is why they invented stick blenders. 😉 I love it when you tell these stories, especially the dog and cat talk. I’ve been known to translate for my Willow too, so it’s nice to know I’m not the only nutter. 😉

  29. Possible alternate title to blog post: in which a decision is made to purchase an immersion blender! My wife loves hers, and makes a great smooth+creamy+cheesy potato soup.
    A great bit of entertainment on an exhausting friday, Thanks Wil!

  30. I can see how you could have learned the “I told you so” look from Anne :] She’s probably forced to use it more than a time or two.. I bet the dog has one too because mine sure as hell did.

  31. (Southern German here) We’ll talk about cold and windy when it’s 10 below freezing and a blizzard so thick you can’t see the other side of the street.

  32. just wated to say my dog does speak- every day when I’m coming home from somewhere he actualy tells me how was his day and he really angry at me and complains when I’m going for a walk without him.

  35. Sometimes it gets all the way down to 50 degrees.
    I know, right? It's terrifying and hard to believe that anyone can even think about living in such harsh conditions.

  37. See, now THIS is what I enjoy about WWdN:IX the most. I’m such a sucker for the Wil, Anne and/or the boys stories. You and Anne are just so awesome together, definitely destined for one another. You really lucked out, man, because your wife is just so full of awesome and win that I’d need a thesaurus in front of me to describe her. Great story, it’s a real treat whenever you post about the things that you and your family do together, even when they do contain mishaps. Totally geek snortlaughed throughout almost the entire post. What made it even funnier for me was imagining you wearing a kilt and having a huge beetle attack you during your blender fail.

  38. Reading stories like this make me miss being married.
    Wait til next summer when you open a cabinet door and find orange splatter in there, you’ll remember this and giggle maniacally. 🙂

  39. How cold could it possibly get in SoCal?
    That story warmed my blackened heart. Happy soon to be 10 year anniversary! Isn’t that like next week?

  40. For another great HARVEST meal, slice a butternut squash in half, scoop out the seeds and fibrous bits, and roast it. While baking, make some wild rice, saute some onions, cook some Italian sausage, and combine with salt, pepper and whatever other seasonings you like. When the squash is done, stuff it! Sprinkle with some pecorino cheese and devour it.
    There’s a 99.9% less chance of geysers with this meal.

  41. That's the thing: I KNEW the physics, but my stupid stomach was so demanding, I didn't give my brain a chance to remind me what I learned in science class way back when I was in school, when digital watches were a pretty neat idea.

  43. OMG… now I must make butternut squash tonight.
    BTW – if you get an immersion blender (such as Thunderstick), it will make your soup puree adventure much simpler… just stick the blender IN the soup pot…. leave the blade VERY NEAR THE BOTTOM (or else you will make a hot mess again).
    Guinness bread… OMG… need that too.

  44. Mmmm. Our favorite harvest meal is butternut squash soup with corn and hominy – it’s only matched by the “Everything Veggie” Harvest soup to which you add squeezes of lemon and some sour cream (and sprinkle some parmesan or romano on top). Gotta make some this weekend now.
    Yet another vote for the Guinness bread recipe – lay it on us, please!
    Dogger sometimes doesn’t even have to say anything for me to know what he is saying – he just comes over and claps his teeth together, and I leap to do his bidding ;-}

  46. Two words, my friend – immersion blender. As a veteran vichyssoise maker, you can’t live without it. The last time I put something hot in the blender was butter chicken sauce. It smelled delicious, all over my kitchen…

  47. Should be called “In Which Wil Learns Why People Have Immersion Blenders”
    I too have geysered the butternut squash soup. A couple times. You’d think you’d learn after the first, but NOOOOO. You forget how little soup it takes to explode.
    Stainless steel immersion blender is KEY for soup making. You can put it right in the HOT soup (hence the stainless steel bit, NOT plastic), and whir away without danger of geyser. At worst, you get a little splatter if there’s not enough soup.
    And I don’t know how the Whole Food soup is made, but the butternut squash soup I make (loved by many a poker-playing blogger I might add), involves no small amount of roasted garlic. Key ingredient.

  48. 50 degrees? In ‘sunny’ Sitka, Alaska, that’s a fine spring, summer or fall day. In winter, the temperature *usually* dips a little lower 🙂

  49. Guinness Bread?
    Sounds pretty good.
    Usually, I just eat slices of Guiness straight from the tap. 🙂
    That must be some hefty blender . . . to have squashed your kitchen.

  50. And my wife’s cat and my cat both speak just fine, though their phrasing is different. My cat appends a plaintive ‘DID YOU GET THAT?’ to the end of everything she says. My wife’s cat prefaces every sentence with a ‘Not that I care, but you might want to…’

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