Today was awful, I think it’s fair to say that. It was a mentally destructive day and I didn’t enjoy it in the slightest. But hey ho, it’s over now and tomorrow will be better. Because that’s the way of the world. The sun will come out tomorrow, as they say. Or sing. Or whatever.
Anyway, today. Rubbish.
It was a kitchen day, which isn’t a bad thing. I like the kitchen. I enjoy making things in the kitchen. But sometimes the kitchen days can be a little draining when all you’re doing is chopping and making and cooking and simmering for a few hours.
And it can be even worse if you spend fricking ages peeling and chopping shallots for an onion soup only for that onion soup to be – and I’m not underselling this – shit.
Carole says she likes it. But all that’s done is committing her to eating it. And there’s a lot of it. But otherwise, it’s nasty. I thought it would be really nice. There was no reason it wouldn’t be really nice, to be honest. But it was awful. And have I mentioned how long I spent peeling and chopping shallots. Shallots can fricking do one. Be an onion or go home. Don’t be a farty little thing but still have all the annoyance of peeling an onion with none of the onion-ness. Shallots could drive a man to madness.
And they did.
The soup was crap.
I made a soup from the same book last week which was ok, but if I’d followed the recipe and used as much cabbage as it claimed I should use it too would have been shit. I only used half the required cabbage and it was already going door to door to find out where shit lived.
It bugs me when I spend ages doing something and it turns out shit. And I think it bugs me more in these times because there’s fewer things I’m doing, so to do those fewer things badly – or have them turn out badly – is more soul destroying that doing loads of things and fucking one of them up. So yeah, I don’t enjoy it. I enjoy it even less because I had no lunch due to the nastiness of the soup. But anyway…
So yeah, two soups from this book have been bad.
Maybe it’s the book. It’s a soup a day book from the Covent Garden Soup people. But their soups are nice, and yet the written down ones are not so nice.
Maybe it’s the book.
Maybe the book is meant to drive you back to the carton soups that are made properly and nicely and don’t come out like nasty grey onion water. For example.
I don’t think I’ll bother with the book again. I don’t think I can take another soup failure this Lockdown…