A little poem crept into my mind when I opened the curtains early this morning and saw fog whisping along our street for a second day in a row:
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.*
Amazing the things you remember from high school English class. It made me homesick for November in Michigan with the turning of leaves, the cool damp mornings and my mother's kitchen. It triggered off a nesting instinct in me which meant that the first thing I did today was to put on a pot of soup.
Mmmmm...soup.
In the fall and winter, I nest in my kitchen. Cooking and baking are two of my favorite things but I had gotten out of both as my sons grew older and moved out onto their own. Picking up something fast for one on the way home after a long day at work was much easier than trying to think of what to cook for dinner. Since I’ve taken off work to return to school this last year, I find I have more time to pick back up the things I’ve let fall by the wayside and cooking for myself is one of them.
I used to make soup at least once a week when the boys were little, making full use of a very large, very well used crockpot. Many times I would put all of the ‘fixins’ in it at night before bed on the lowest setting and be awakened the next morning to the most wonderful savory aromas. More than once on a cold morning my sons went off to school after insisting on a breakfast of homemade soup.
In the spring and summer I go for lighter broth based soups like chicken vegetable but I’ve recently been turning to heartier soups like split pea, navy bean or a hearty Italian vegetable. Today I’m making a spicy pinto bean chili which I learned from helping my mom (a great cook) in the kitchen. Mine is a little spicier than hers (I love spicy food) and I use ground turkey instead of ground beef. I still make a big pot but now I freeze a couple of individual serving for later. To go along with the chili there is a pan of homemade cornbread which I also learned to make from scratch from my mom. Very little of that goes into the freezer because I jump on it as soon as it’s out of the oven.
Mmmmm…warm cornbread.
I’m glad I started cooking for myself again. There is nothing I love more than the comforting aroma of a pot of soup wafting throughout the house. No matter which variety it is, it always smells like home. Does this time of year trigger a nesting instinct in you? If it does where is your favorite place to nest? I’d love to hear about it and I’d also love to hear about your favorite soup. Feel free to share the recipe.
*Carl Sandburg, Chicago Poems (1916) "Fog"
Yummy. I love using my crock pot. I unfortunately don't make nearly enough soups, but I have decided to change that and start making them weekly. It's so much easier for the mommy and less stressful.
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