Today is cloaked in a thick and smoky fog. Placing me in an enchanted bubble. The landscape I know by heart is changed, sometimes almost beyond recognition. Only whispers and pieces of the familiar speak to me. Slow morphing. Sweet. Like honey dripping slowly down the side of the jar as my chocolate mint tea from the garden steeps in a mug made of Blue Hill clay. I wrap wool around my skin. Sip tea. Conjure up indoor activities and ruminate on possible combinations of ingredients for a pot of hot, soothing soup. My husband makes bread as I work beside him, chopping root vegetables for the soup I have already created in my mind. I love inclement autumnal days like this…
For the project, a garland made of pressed maple leaves.
For the soup, beef barley, sorta kinda (no meat added)…I am a loose chef. I don’t generally adhere too strictly to recipes, and sometimes, like today, I don’t refer to any. In the cool mudroom there is a bag of fresh vegetables from today’s pickins at the local farmer’s market. I peel and chop carrots sweetened by the frost, scrub German butterball potatoes and cut them into cubes with the skins left on. Olive oil drizzles into the soup pot, which I add minced garlic and red onion to, sprinkled with sea salt and pepper. I brown them for a few minutes, then add a half a glass of red wine, 4 cups of beef broth, 3/4 cup of barley, and fresh thyme and parsley from my herb garden. I bring the soup to a boil, then simmer (about 30 minutes, or as long as it takes the potatoes and carrots to soften). The soup is simmering as I write this post. I am feeling hunger and excitement — ready to dine on a bowl of this soup with a piece of steaming, fresh bread, and a glass of claret wine. The perfect sup!
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