Hi. My name's Carol, and I love food. No, you don't understand. I love food. If I were on the Titanic, I'd be in the galley (kitchen) eating up the chocolate pudding and the roasted quail. I go to most events, activities and parties just for the food. The company and the conversation are secondary. Here, I'll try to document everything that goes into my mouth. Aren't we excited? Oh, hey, are you gonna eat that?
Saturday, November 27, 2010
The best part of Thanksgiving is the day after leftovers in sandwich and soup form. Because I went to a friend's for early Thanksgiving, I didn't get a chance to make my own homemade stock or raid the fridge for a midnight turkey sandwich with butter and mayo. But that's alright. I made Christina make me her homemade turkey soup.
She was raised by a good German cook for a mom. Germans and Italians love to use orzo, she said, so she does. Orzo may be exotic to most people, but to her it's as common as meat and potatoes. Since she only used a 12-pounder, she worried that she wouldn't have enough bones and carcass left for a substantial stock pot full of soup, so she wound up stealing some from her mom on the actual Thanksgiving day.
Her homemade soup was uncommonly delicious and deeply flavored with hints of garlic, thyme, and that indefinable thing called, love. Sure beats canned any time. She also cut up her carrots very tiny and uniform and cute. I think I also detected some leek.
If I made my own turkey soup, I'd have enough left over for several weeks. But she only brought enough for one more. Eh, it's the price we pay for not having to cook or clean.