We are still having glorious weather in Northern California, but it can't stop me from a seasonal craving for soup.
I love soup.
I love eating soup, and I love making soup.
To my horrified chagrin, Cranky now loves making soup, and he does a good job of it. He didn't even like eating soup when we first met; he thought it wasn't sufficiently food-like.
And to top off the horrified chagrin, Cranky made this cream of broccoli soup with tofu! A New England born-and-raised, Red Sox lovin' man, cooking with tofu.
The soup was rich with several forms of allium, cooked with the broccoli in mere salted water. So simple. Blended with the tofu, drizzled with beautiful olive oil, and topped with some set-aside steamed florets (this was HIS idea).
Eating this soup was biological bliss; my body loved it as much as my mouth did.
And I want soup again today.
We have an almost petrifyingly petrifying idea to try out: Cream of porcini soup. Is this possible? Is it allowed? Shiver.