In the soup
10/25/98
The spouse doesn't like to leave me on my own. Will I, in the blinding fog of my brilliant musings, wander off in front of savage trucks? Eeek. Splat.
Maybe he's right to worry. But he's not stupid: He got the heck out of Dodge (aka Austin, Texas) a week ago Thursday, heading east fast before the rains swooped down. And he's been tormenting and twitting me ever since with tales of weather that's lovely, or at least bearable, first in scenic Springfield, and now in Boonville and Chapel Hill, N.C. Here, I'm afraid, the fog was thicker than sea — er, sorry, pea soup.
But why should I care? If I may badmouth marriage a bit, there's too much compromise involved, too much giving in just to keep the peace. I can deal with the weather without a helpmeet, and the bachelorette's life has its compensations. Not that I'd like to be on the prowl again — good heavens, I'd have to dye my hair and buy clothes! I'd have to keep my house in some state of presentableness. Eeek, indeed.
But whenever the old boy pegs out for a short spell, I do get a little wild. No, I don't paint the town a pale pink, which is all the effort I could muster at my age and decrepitude. Instead, I take power at home. With the culinary tyrant out of the house, I can do what I want in the kitchen.
In my usual assault on marital propriety, Brussels sprouts and lima beans cram the freezer; I'll even eat the things for breakfast with the protein booster of an egg or two. But this time, the foul weather spurred me to a far more dramatic cock-snoot at our menu rules. I made split-pea soup from scratch, and I loved it. It's not a pretty sight, I'm sure, when a middle-aged woman gulps down great bowls of the green stuff, full of glee and devoid of the table manners she cleaves to when other humans crowd her space.
Who's to know? No one saw but the cats.
Oh, yes, the cats. Here's a downside to the single life -- I'm the only one around to feed those demanding yet finicky little beasts, or clean up after them.
And worst is the coffee situation. Now that I have to brew my own in the morning, it hardly seems worth getting out of bed. I wish the spouse were home where he belongs.
*************
SPLIT-PEA SOUP
1 cup green split peas, rinsed
4 cups water plus more as needed
1 bay leaf
1/4 cup long-grain brown rice, raw
---
3 tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped (about 2 cups)
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
---
1/2 cup of chopped parsley
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1. Bring peas to boil in the 4 cups of water; add raw rice and bay leaf, and simmer, covered, over low heat for 45 minutes to an hour. Fish out bay leaves.
2. In the meantime, heat oil and sautee onions and garlic until onions are tender; add spices and heat for another couple of minutes.
3. Mix in with split peas and rice, and add water, or vegetable stock, if needed for proper soup consistency. Dump in the parsley, and add salt and pepper to taste. Reheat before serving.
The spouse doesn't like to leave me on my own. Will I, in the blinding fog of my brilliant musings, wander off in front of savage trucks? Eeek. Splat.
Maybe he's right to worry. But he's not stupid: He got the heck out of Dodge (aka Austin, Texas) a week ago Thursday, heading east fast before the rains swooped down. And he's been tormenting and twitting me ever since with tales of weather that's lovely, or at least bearable, first in scenic Springfield, and now in Boonville and Chapel Hill, N.C. Here, I'm afraid, the fog was thicker than sea — er, sorry, pea soup.
But why should I care? If I may badmouth marriage a bit, there's too much compromise involved, too much giving in just to keep the peace. I can deal with the weather without a helpmeet, and the bachelorette's life has its compensations. Not that I'd like to be on the prowl again — good heavens, I'd have to dye my hair and buy clothes! I'd have to keep my house in some state of presentableness. Eeek, indeed.
But whenever the old boy pegs out for a short spell, I do get a little wild. No, I don't paint the town a pale pink, which is all the effort I could muster at my age and decrepitude. Instead, I take power at home. With the culinary tyrant out of the house, I can do what I want in the kitchen.
In my usual assault on marital propriety, Brussels sprouts and lima beans cram the freezer; I'll even eat the things for breakfast with the protein booster of an egg or two. But this time, the foul weather spurred me to a far more dramatic cock-snoot at our menu rules. I made split-pea soup from scratch, and I loved it. It's not a pretty sight, I'm sure, when a middle-aged woman gulps down great bowls of the green stuff, full of glee and devoid of the table manners she cleaves to when other humans crowd her space.
Who's to know? No one saw but the cats.
Oh, yes, the cats. Here's a downside to the single life -- I'm the only one around to feed those demanding yet finicky little beasts, or clean up after them.
And worst is the coffee situation. Now that I have to brew my own in the morning, it hardly seems worth getting out of bed. I wish the spouse were home where he belongs.
*************
SPLIT-PEA SOUP
1 cup green split peas, rinsed
4 cups water plus more as needed
1 bay leaf
1/4 cup long-grain brown rice, raw
---
3 tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped (about 2 cups)
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
---
1/2 cup of chopped parsley
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1. Bring peas to boil in the 4 cups of water; add raw rice and bay leaf, and simmer, covered, over low heat for 45 minutes to an hour. Fish out bay leaves.
2. In the meantime, heat oil and sautee onions and garlic until onions are tender; add spices and heat for another couple of minutes.
3. Mix in with split peas and rice, and add water, or vegetable stock, if needed for proper soup consistency. Dump in the parsley, and add salt and pepper to taste. Reheat before serving.
posted by aparker54 at 11:15 AM
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