We Write Poems this past week prompted us to write a poem filled with scent for, "I Smell Poem Pie!" I wrote several drafts, and none quite worked. After actually making this recipe, and having a savory soup that smelled (and tasted) reeeeeally good, I decided to share the recipe and story in the form of a poem. The trick to a perfect pea soup is not only the raw ingredients, but also having the right amount of broth, cooking time, and blending. Give it a try!
pea soup
I don’t know how it got so thick—
it started innocently enough
with hot, shimmering oil,
and black and cayenne pepper stirred in.
The popping mustard seeds
offered no foreshadowing.
it certainly wasn’t smooth
when I added clumsy chunks of
pungent onions and slices of garlic --
along with handfuls of
mild, chopped potatoes,
sweet carrots and celery.
things slowed way down on
adding all the cool broth and
even a dollop of milk.
but after the rinsed split peas
were added to the mix
a simmering, savory heat began.
the aromas of the vegetables
and fragrant herbs and spices
wafted through the kitchen,
each complementing and mixing
with the others, softening
and blending, with a dash of salt.
as the colors and textures
cooked down together over time,
it seemed only natural
to whip them all smooth
with a stick blender
for a unified, smooth consistency.
It was a thick, wonderful
pea soup. But one thing I learned,
the hard way,
is if you lift the stick blender
too high from the pot
even for one moment . . .
that thick pea soup
will coat places in your kitchen
you didn’t anticipate.
and if you’re not careful,
it will warm
more than your bowl.
Copyright © 2011 Nan P.
pea soup
I don’t know how it got so thick—
it started innocently enough
with hot, shimmering oil,
and black and cayenne pepper stirred in.
The popping mustard seeds
offered no foreshadowing.
it certainly wasn’t smooth
when I added clumsy chunks of
pungent onions and slices of garlic --
along with handfuls of
mild, chopped potatoes,
sweet carrots and celery.
things slowed way down on
adding all the cool broth and
even a dollop of milk.
but after the rinsed split peas
were added to the mix
a simmering, savory heat began.
the aromas of the vegetables
and fragrant herbs and spices
wafted through the kitchen,
each complementing and mixing
with the others, softening
and blending, with a dash of salt.
as the colors and textures
cooked down together over time,
it seemed only natural
to whip them all smooth
with a stick blender
for a unified, smooth consistency.
It was a thick, wonderful
pea soup. But one thing I learned,
the hard way,
is if you lift the stick blender
too high from the pot
even for one moment . . .
that thick pea soup
will coat places in your kitchen
you didn’t anticipate.
and if you’re not careful,
it will warm
more than your bowl.
Copyright © 2011 Nan P.
2 comments:
You write of pea soup and life, Nan. I love both.
What a fun result for the prompt! I really enjoyed this and suspect I'll try that recipe too. Thanks so much for participating and for visiting my blog.
Post a Comment