Day 7: The Soup that Would Not Be

Here we are again: another day in the life of a chicken. It never gets tiring in the world of chickens. There are so many wondrous discoveries in the world of Henrietta. Today, as she sits on the counter and watches with delight, and as we enjoy the first true day of sun and heat in the Northwest, we tackle the courses that are the story before and after the great chicken massacre. A massacre is not very interesting if there is not a gain of love before and a loss of love after.

So, today, another exploration in the soup course. We would like something green, akin to grass, to invoke the fields of the farm and the pleasant days of when chickens randomly cluck about the yard.

Yvette is a little punchy this evening so excuse her manners. She wants

Celery

1 little clove of garlic

onion

softening as leaks are chopped. Yvette slightly burns her onions and garlic while relating the story of her former chef/boyfriend and how is living w/ a 23 year old bi-polar traffic accident, and he may marry her. So, if the soup is a bit burnt, it will be solved next time. And so, he marries to not be alone, but no, he’s too talented for this, and she cannot feel sad, but we may have his input in the project. This is all very real.

A splash of wine is added. Vihno verde in honor if Portugal. For sordid tales on the inside story of Portugal please send 19.95 to 3400 Phinney Ave. N, Seattle, WA 98122.

So, can we save him and bring him to Seattle? There are plenty, a plethora, of 23-year-old bi-polar women who are single and desperate for a Texas swagger in the Northwest. He has attitude.

Leaks are in and sweated (to sweat is to cook gently, heating coarsely cut vegetables in oil or butter, with frequent stirring and turning, to insure that any liquid will evaporate)

Parsley goes in and simmers for three or four minutes before the zucchini is added to soften. And then the chicken stock- 2 cups- slowly added – a 3^rd. Will it be green enough? Will it work without the starch of the potato?

The flavor, before blending, before straining, is brighter, greener, and cleaner. More like eating grass. Which is a good thing. Cats do it.

The nest bakes at 375. Check out Day #3 for details. For experimentation sakes we alternate the drier bits on the top of the wetter bits and vice versa. We’ll see which method brings us the best nest. After 5 minutes, only 1/5 of the way through the process, a little browning is occurring that closely resembles burning. Um. Maybe it was less than 375.

After 25 minutes the nests are not nests. They are muffins. Tasty-cheesy-feed-for-your- grandchildren-muffins. But they are not nests. Being distracted by the cheese Yvette sees no reason to care. She wants in for breakfast every morning for the rest of her life.

The soup is simple and good but too thin. A light green super model of a soup but as with a super model not really female. Pseudo-female. Femalesque. I don’t think I can write this on the web site and keep any credibility. How do we thicken this so we can have more body?

As far as the nest goes- in the first experiment we neglected to keep track of the number of wheat bales from the wax paper bag. So we tried 2 on the first attempt. Disaster. Nothing like a nest. On the reexperiment we try 4. The 6 nests go in. 25 minutes.

So the soup needs to be thickened. A roux may be needed. Cornstarch is a chemical sin to be avoided. We need a subtle thickener. First up a roux- butter, flour, whisk, and slowly add it to the soup. The roux makes it a creamy soup without the cream. But it’s butter. All butter. And so it’s not clean or green. But how can we thicken what we had? The zucchini is wrong. The leaks are the body. And we think it can take an egg well as it floats in its green cream. But is it what we want?

The 2^nd nests are brought out. Approval on the nestiness. We have success. Once again the nests are what we keep us going. We have degrees of nestiness. We like the deeper, fluffier of the varieties. We move to considering the sauce- a goat cheese base with a hollandaise accent underneath. Hollandaise #1 down the sink. After much deliberation we have 2 sauces on the burner. Most of the nests have been nibbled on. They could use a bit more cheese to wheat in the ration but otherwise delectable. And they look good. But we need to wait for final judgment until the sauces are done.

Euchk. Bleuchk. Euhh. The goat cheese sauce. Over salted. 2^nd Hollandaise is down the drain and even though she has made hollandaise since the first day that she learned to cook (which was not yesterday) she has not had these problems. We may have a jinx in the air. And yes we do. The third hollandaise is down. We are crestfallen. We have fallen into a bear trap of culinary farces. We are done for the night. We will try no more.

This process is fraught with peril. Disappointment lies in wait around every corner.

Trying to Salvage:

What we did learn. Goat cheese sinks to the bottom. It will not ride on the top of a hollandaise. It needs more thought.

The strained parsley soup was close to clean and magical before we embarked upon this twisted road of corrections that has led up to any normal, home made soup of no consequence. If we go back in the process, add less chicken stock, just enough liquid to cover the vegetables, simmer, whir, and strain we believe we can create a thin but good elixir of green. The nest was mostly a success and we need more hollandaise. Don’t forget the zest or the cracking of the egg.

Whew.