I have a tendency to work on things for quite some time for the perfect result. Once for a two and a half-year period I worked on and off on making the PERFECT pizza crust. You know it was an obsession when the kids gave me a pizza dough recipe book, flour and pans for Christmas one year. You may have heard a word or two about my biscuit baking adventure. I am going to keep going until I can bake a light, fluffy & enjoyable biscuit. I am not a biscuit fan, however I really, really want to be. You all know I am on test try number 28 for baking the perfect English Muffin. I write down new suggestions and little tweaks each try, somewhat like a mad scientist. I am like a dog with a good marrow filled bone. I just can’t let it drop. I don’t like to be defeated.
When it comes to baking, I like standing in the winner’s circle. When I was 12 years old I won a blue ribbon at the Western Washington State Fair for my Peanut Brittle. My oh my did I love my first glimpse of that royal blue ribbon with gold lettering. Blue Ribbon Winner. I loved that feeling. So puffed up, almost better than dreaming about wearing a sparkly crown.
Currently garlic soup is my mission, passion or obsession if you will. I can’t, I won’t stop reading and researching recipes. I am fascinated at just how many people have tried dozens upon dozens of different recipes in their personal attempt to create “the one”. So fascinated lately, that Mr. Right bought and brought home a 5 pound bag of the stinking rose! Ah, the aroma of garlic, once roasted or simmered it works itself into something round and mild, mellow creamy goodness.
That’s what I want to share, a recipe called Garlic Soup Goodness. Yesterday, I was so full of confidence that this recipe was “the” one, that I took pictures along the way to share with my friends and neighbors and the world really (well the blog world at least). I used 3/4 of a cup of the wonderful stuff. Pureed and simmered in fruity Olive Oil to a light honey color. I gently added the broth and a cup of 2002 Chardonnay. I had it on low, low, low for a good hour. Then right before dinner tonight I added the cubed potatoes, cream and milk (I bought the real thing, did not want to use Almond Milk or Soy anything. I made a special trip to buy the forbidden dairy products.) I added them along with the salt and pepper to taste. I used my handy-dandy immersion blender. If I have forgotten to mention, I “heart” my immersion blender about 2 dozen times a week. Love it so much I want to marry it.
Nearing the finish line, the sample taste. The spoon, the moment, bring the spoon down into the stock pot of goodness. With my left hand under my mouth and the spoon coming up to my lips, the moment, the sparkling moment when one confidently takes a step into the winner’s circle to receive the Blue Ribbon.
Wait. All I can taste is the harsh & very aggressive flavor. Mr. Right takes his first sample. His first glorious words, “it is inedible”. We did not have soup to accompany our evening meal. Oh sure, I had put some garlic into the oven earlier, so I had plenty of roasted garlic to smear on slices of Cibbata bread. We had a wonderful meal. Very good. I was a bit out of sorts, I don’t like it when recipes crash and burn.
It hoovered! (We did not allow the boys to say “that sucked” so they came up with the word hoovered (as in vacuumed). It hoovered BIG TIME! Just being honest. Dang.
Usually, I try to share something good that happened to me or some wonderful recipe that you would love to make. I try to share recipes that have worked for me over and over so that you too will have the same success.
Scratch. Isn’t that the correct word when a horse doesn’t even finish the race? Scratch. Cut, take 7. Yep, it HOOVERED! As the teenagers are fond of saying these days, FAIL. My cell phone sometimes reads, No service in area. Boo & Hiss.
Have the common sense to put the cover back on the soup and do not serve it. Move on. Enjoy your meal. Pretend not to be thinking of it. Come up with the idea of writing on your blog about it. Life is too good to muddy it up by going on and on about some stinky soup. Be polite to your dinner companion.
Having good manners is the art of choosing among one’s real thoughts. (dang, I wanted that blue ribbon)