Yesterday had all the classic makings of a "pot of soup day." First of all it was Sunday. Also, it was downright chilly outside.... My friends, whom I fondly refer to as the Baron and Baroness had agreed to eat my proposed pot of soup if I made it. So I did, and it was a joyful thing. Making a pot of soup is like therapy, not that I need any therapy...
The rhythmic chopping of the vegetables becomes a relaxing thing, and is somehow soothing. I stand over the pot in order to peer at it just one more time. It's like watching a baby sleeping in its crib. It's that satisfying. It's also a great diversion from researching the article I was supposed to be working on. Sometimes we need diversions.
So I made this soup. It turned out good considering I didn't have a recipe. There used to be a recipe and a name to this soup. Somewhere it is scribbled on a brown paper lunch sack, given to me by a friend who somehow wrangled it out of the deli/lunch counter where it was originally made. I have no idea where the recipe has landed so I did what I do most days when I am in the kitchen...I winged it, or if you prefer, I adapted it. Soup is perhaps the easiest possible food to adapt a recipe for. It's not like adapting a cake recipe. That's just asking for trouble...
So, it was a lovely soup made with Italian sausage, potatoes, carrots, and red beans, white beans in a beautiful broth flavored with some fresh sage and thyme from the garden. It would fall into the category of hearty Tuscan-style soup.
It turned out pretty good. The Baroness made a loaf of homemade bread to go with it. That turned out quite well too. We all liked it. I believe the Baron even went back for seconds...
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