Saturday, February 5, 2011

Soup Soup

Tonight I made Potato-Broccoli Soup, at Jim's request, to ward off our colds and the winter chill. Upon finishing the meal I learned that my mom made the same meal tonight, after I sent her the recipe about a week ago. So, the same meal was had in Blacksburg and Paris tonight. It's like we're connected over the miles. Great minds think alike :)

Upon finishing the meal and now baking cookies, I remembered the John McCutcheon song about soup. I just heard it for the first time this year, but it is so catchy and fitting. I have trouble getting it out of my head or even wanting to get it out of my head, for that matter.

Enjoy and look it up to hear the melody, yourself!

Song credits:
words & music by John McCutcheon & Si Kahn

John: vocal and guitar
Michael Aharon: organ and synthesizer
Pete Kennedy: electric guitar
Bobby King: bass
Robert “Jos” Jospe: drums
Kevin Davis: percussion
Jon Carroll & JT Brown: harmony vocals

Get off the bus and I can see my breath
Air’s so cold that you could freeze to death
I turn up my collar and the wind starts to blowing
Sky turns gray and it starts to snowing
I put down my head, it’s only two blocks more
Make it to my house and the I open the door

It smells like winter at our house
Smells like winter at our house
Smells like winter at our house
Smells like soup

When my Dad was a kid in my Grandma’s home
She taught him how to start with an old soup bone
You put the onions, carrots, celery, and water in the pot
It only takes a little of whatever you’ve got
“There ain’t no way to hurry it,” my Grandma would remind
“Anything worth waiting for is gonna take time”

All day I hear it simmering in the pot
Sneak up to the lid, be careful it’s hot
Lift up the corner and I take a little sniff
Close my eyes and take a great big whiff
Go and get a tablespoon, to steal a little taste
I got a big soup smile all over my face

Bean soup, chicken soup with macaroni
Cream of broccoli, minestrone
Potato soup, tomato soup, chowder made of clam
Miso soup, mushroom soup, split pea with ham
Bouillon, scallion, tom kha ghai with lemongrass
Matzoth ball, chilibean, cream of asparagus

So it doesn’t even matter if the cold winds blow
If the rivers freeze and there’s three feet of snow
From my Dad and my Grandma it’s what I got
The put a whole lotta love in that old black pot
In my mind I see a little boy, a distant winter day
He’s standing at the door and I can hear him say

No comments:

Post a Comment