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”

  1. You made MAKING SOUP funny. You’ve got style, Wheaton.
    Apropos of nothing, you know what you ought to do for your 10th anniversary? Sing the PAX ’09 version of “My Monkey” to Anne. 🙂

  2. Last I checked, playing gin rummy does put you in the “old” category.
    However I do love your story, it made me laugh hysterically. And am going to go make butternut and kabocha squash soup right now (the trick is to roast it first). Bring on the cold 🙂

  4. That sounds so good right now! You guys should start a cooking show! It must be fun having you both as parents. The ‘little’ explosion reminds me of the time I did a preparation speech for my speech class in college. I decided I would make this colorful fruit drink with all kinds of fruit and juices……BIG mistake. I was borrowing a friends blender and I guess I should have practiced which buttons did what the night before…lol. My colorful drink turned into a colorful mess….all over the table. Funny, I thought the lid would stay on by itself…um, NO! Not only did I make a fool of myself, I also demonstrated why some people ought just not befriend appliances..lol:) I could right a book!
    I love your family stories Wil! You truly know how to make my day! Happy Halloween to you and yours my friend:)-Josh

  5. The EXACT same hot geyser thing happened to me a couple years ago when I tried my hand at leek soup. I guess there really is a use for those in the pot blenders.

  7. The instant I read the words:
    “You’re putting way too much soup in there,” Anne said.
    I *KNEW* what was next. 🙂
    The humor that you used to write this literally had me laughing out loud… Great moment, thank you for sharing. 😀

  8. I learned a very important lesson today: Do not read your blog while I am at work. It’s difficult to explain why I’m laughing out loud when the coworkers are having a Serious Discussion and I’m supposed to be writing code.

  12. For the love of Lord Buddha, get an immmersible stick blender fot < $20. at Walgreens and no more transferring hoy items to a blender pitcher!

  13. This should teach you two lessons, Wil:
    1. Never run a blender more than 1/3 full with hot soup. (Next time, use a damned stick blender. It’s safer.)
    2. ANNE IS ALWAYS RIGHT. You’ve been married almost 10 years; you should have this one DOWN by now, man!

  14. I did the Exact Same Thing with a batch of butternut squash soup last year! Much ow. Much mess. Fortunately, the spouse was in the next room when the blender ‘sploded.

  15. I dunno, man… first time I tried to use my immersion blender, I wore a LOT of soup. Picked it up a little too high to keep it from sucking onto the bottom of the pan. Much mess. Much ow.

  19. I was thinking about calling it "The Orange County of Los Angeles," but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

  20. There is an art to allowing people to make mistakes on their own. It is difficult to watch impending disaster and not step in to prevent it. But its necessary. Everybody needs autonomy in their lives. Your wife must be a Master. I am totally impressed.

  21. Wonderful story and writing! You two have the best marriage. I’ve also experienced erupting soup, but luckily, it was a small geyster that I trapped with the lid.

  23. It’s not so much how cold it gets, as how cold it is in comparison to the general average.
    I’m a English guy living in Hawaii. When I moved out here I started off really baffled by locals saying “it’s cold!” when the temperature dipped below 75 degrees.
    The more time I’ve spent here the more susceptible I’ve become to temperature changes. Now even I notice when it’s dropped below 75, and I used to quite happily walk around in snow with only a light sweater on.

  24. I bought an immersion blender just to use for split pea soup and my bean and sausage soup, both done in the slow cooker…now I’ve got to go to the grocery store for next week, I’m getting hungry…

  26. I laughed out loud while reading this on my iPhone…was above a ceiling doing electrical work and my laughter alerted my general foreman that I was screwing off. It was still worth it, you’re hilarious.

  28. Nicely done, Mr. Wheaton. As an old married person (15 years in April) I can certainly appreciate The Wrath and other withering glances.
    I think this is one of your better pieces. I literally LOL’d a couple of times.
    More, please.

  29. Ohhhh soup geyser! Old friend, how I’ve missed you.
    I once made a smoothie, then had the brilliant idea of filling the blender with water afterwards and running it to rinse the blades. In my excitement at the idea, I forgot to put the lid on the blender and made myself a little waternado.

  30. Wil;
    It is a typical fall day in Honolulu today – red tinges of vog remain in the air. (VOG- volcanic fog remnants that drift over from the big Island) The temperature outside is a cool 87 degrees with what feels like 75-90% humidity. But I do have to share that your story has put me to a place where Harvest soup and freshly baked bread is the order of business for dinner tomorrow- I think I will do my baking and cooking after dark tonight when its a bit cooler- I will avoid the geysers with lentil and sausage soup with sage and onions- mmmmmmmm perhaps if you post your receipe for Guiness bread I can stop by the store on the way home to get the fixin’s…

  31. A very colorful tale, Wil. No pun intended! Ah, harvest meals – you clearly know how to live. I think everybody learns about soup blending the hard way – I certainly did. As for cooing and coddling something and then throwing it in a blender, I think I understand Anne’s POV. 🙂 Of course, yours makes sense too – it’s going to grow up to be soup!
    I actually have some farm squash in the fridge… hmmm… And oh, here in the Rockies at ten thousand feet, if it was 50 today everyone would have been out in t-shirts saying how warm it is (which is always what happens in the spring). It snowed and didn’t break 30 today, and I was out there! It was delicious, in a non-socal sort of way.

  33. Wil, I read your blog on a daily basis when updated and it never ceases to make me laugh or wish my life was as exciting as yours! I know from reading you love humor as much as I do and enjoy a good laugh so I have to let you hear this story.
    It tooke me awhile to compose myself after this happened tonight. So I ‘m handing out candy to trick or treaters here on the east coast.I’m wearing a Starfleet command gold uniform as I do this.
    I get a knock on the door and I open it of course to see a family entirely dressed in Starfleet uniforms with a boy a bout 6 or 7. All wearing the following uniforms : the mother chief medical officer blue, the father wearing command gold and the little boy was dressed like an ensign in red.
    I of course being female and therefore much more excitable than most was overwhelmed with joy of the site of a young child following in wonderful footsteps exclaimed “Aww You’re a ensign” To which his reply was “ I’m not just an ensign. I’m WESLEY CRUSHER! You’re a commander, you’re supposed to know that!.” I was so embarrassed. It was hilarious! The mother was like “I’m so sorry, he’s going through a bratty stage, he learns this stuff from his father. Father apologized as well with a smirk and said “Yeah, he wanted to be Wesley,” The kid then said “ Yeah, there’s a difference!.
    It made my night! Hope it makes you laugh too. 🙂

  34. It is possible that I may have had to read parts aloud to my husband. Quite possible.
    P.S. finally got to watch our Tivo’d Big Bang Theory, and we so enjoyed it! I hope you get to reprise your Evil Wil Wheaton character sometime.

  35. If you don’t have/want to use a stick blender you can use the blender with the lid insert removed. That lets the air out. You can put a towel over the hole if you must. It also helps to start it at a slower speed to reduce the shock – then you can turn it up to 11.
    And I don’t know why you even stepped away from the door…

  37. Yes, if you could at least provide the source of said Guinness bread recipe, I would be very grateful! This was another great story Wil, I have really appreciated getting to know about a fellow geeks life through his writing — thanks!

  40. Thinking about your dog, I found a frog once that could sing and dance. I was so amazed I tried to show it to people, but alas it would only do it for me. Stupid frog. I ended up putting it back where I found it.

  42. I have a lot of trouble in the kitchen. As my mother has pointed out (on many occasions) it is a good thing i am “clever” and never needed common sesne to get me through life. i have the most trouble with microwaves. Things tend to explode. Sure, you don’t get the entire kitchen as messy but those buggers can be hard to get into the sink to wash….

  43. This story kind of reminded me of another blogger I follow who usually starts his entries “In which…”
    Glad the soup was tasty. The Guiness bread sounds awesome!

  44. So Wil,
    I have to share this story with you. I too have had a terrible accident with a blender. Two years ago on Valentine’s Day me and my hubby invited another married couple over for dinner. My hubby had bought me a lovely bunch of roses that I left on the kitchen counter. I had made a big pot roast and while the roast had cooked perfectly I was disappointed that the liquid in the cockpot didn’t thicken into a gray like it normaly does. So, I had an idea to pour some of the hot liquid into the blender and added a tiny bit of flour to thicken it up.
    The liquid exploded out of the blender because I didn’t allow the pitcher to breathe enough when I hit the button, and the hot liquid went everywhere. I too was hungry and distracted with my guests so I wasn’t thinking very clearly. My hubby and my friends lost it and laughed at me as I tried to wipe the searing hot liquid off my face and arms.
    While I was cleaning up, I noticed that my lovely flowers had been sprayed with a generous amount of roast beef gravy. To which I said without thinking, “Oh man. My flowers’ petals are all beefy.” The laughter that followed was like nothing else I’ve heard before or since.
    *sigh*
    It took me two years to build up the courage to make a pot roast again.

  45. Who else but Wil Wheaton can give us such a good laugh over spilled soup? You brought back a memory of a night of shock and awe from when I was about ten years old. My parents went out for the evening leaving my 8 year old sister and I in the care of our grandmother. Sis and I decided it would be great to make chocolate milk shakes. This would be an easy task considering we had a milk shake maker like you would see in an old fashioned drug store or diner. As I was setting the machine on the kitchen counter I got a stern warning from my grandmother as to what would happen if I made a mess. I remember thinking, “what could go wrong?” – ha! Vanilla ice cream, Hershey syrup and milk, how hard could that be? I’ll do it just like Dad has made them so many times. I put all the ingredients in the silver canister and slid it up the blender pole and set the lip of the canister on the clip. The blending began. I took the ice cream back to the chest freezer in the garage. As I set the ice cream back in the freezer I heard this unholy grinding noise, the can hitting the kitchen floor and my sister screaming. I ran into the kitchen to find chocolate and milk on the walls, cabinets, appliances, the always polished to perfection stainless steel stove top and a huge mess splattered all over the floor with goo still running out of the can. My poor grandmother came in and we spent the next hour wiping up everything, praying that we would not miss a spot.
    Now I have to inject here that my mother redefines “clean freak.” Think Mommie Dearest obsessive compulsive cleaning disorder x10.
    It was close to 10:30 p.m. when we finished cleaning so my sister and I ran and got into bed. Sleep was not an option. My mother describes herself as a “witch with radar.” So we were in our respective bedrooms awaiting her arrival. The back door opened and within moments I heard her scream, “there is chocolate on my ceiling!” Then I heard, “OMG, there is chocolate on the TV!” We never thought to look at the TV because it was so far away in a sitting area just off the kitchen. We missed the light fixture over the breakfast table and several other strategically aligned items. Then we heard our names being called and we were front and center in the kitchen for the interrogation. She found my chocolate hand print on the milk shake maker neatly hidden away in a cabinet.
    But ya know, I never thought about bringing in the dogs from the backyard to help with the cleaning job. Thank the heavens I didn’t because at the age of ten, I certainly didn’t know that chocolate can blind or kill dogs.
    Hard to believe that this happened in 1961 and I remember it like it was yesterday. Thanks for the memories and a good laugh Wil.

  46. Hehe, it got cold and windy just in time for Hallowe’en yesterday (before that it was kind of cool and wet. eugh.) and I bought a butternut squash and two hokkaido pumpkins. They’re going to be turned into soup, cupcakes and the most delicious hokkaido risotto. Yum.

  48. Great tale of harvest soup-making! Makes me want to go out and buy some autumn squash. And, I am holding up imaginary toast for your anniversary coming up and hope you continue to have a many more fun-filled days with Anne.

  49. As much as the thought of Guinness bread has my tummy rumbling, I don’t think I have the steely resolve necessary to commit that velvety brew to status of mere “ingredient.” You, sir, are one stoic chef.

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