While having a link clicking party for one, I stumbled onto this post over at The Candid Appetite. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this about myself, but I love soup. As in: if I had to choose to eat one thing, the thing I would choose would be soup. This, like Jonathan does in his post, I can blame on my mother. Since we a.) lived in fairly small towns and b.) relatively close to the school (aka: could see the school through our back window and across a farmer’s field and just past the football field), my siblings and I would make the trek home every lunch hour where my mother would have a pot of soup and a stack of sandwiches for us. Of course, there were days where leftovers greeted us or else, if she wasn’t going to be home in the evening/would be too busy to cook dinner/various other reasons I’m forgetting right now, she would swap lunch and dinner and we’d have a full spread while soup would come out later.
As with Jonathan, I thought my soup experience was what everyone else’s was. Until a friend in high school went, “What do you mean, you only have soup?” to which we gave each other extremely confused and slightly judgmental looks before I paused and asked, “Well, what do you eat for lunch?” to which she replied with a full meal her Phillipino mother had cooked up for her after she’d made her way to school. For a moment I felt the lack of with my simple soup and sandwich fare. But that wore off by the time I made my way back home, soup waiting for me. Continue reading