potato soup…NO SOUP FOR YOU!!

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When I was in my very early twenties there was a group of us that all used to hang out together on a regular basis. Actually, the group was already hanging out on a regular basis before I came along as a roommate. They all played D&D together every weekend until the wee hours of the morning.

D&D, which stands for Dungeons and Dragons, is a fantasy role playing game. Did I play too? I played once. I was a small fairy gnat and I spit in the eye of God about 30 minutes into my first game and he killed me. That was the extent of my D&D experience.  

One of the regular female D&D players fancied herself to be quite the gourmet, so she made potato soup every week. I am not a big fan of potato soup, unless you add oysters or clams and then it’s no longer a soup, it’s a chowder. Watered down milky juice with half cooked potatoes thrown in just makes my taste buds want to run away from home.

One afternoon I was meeting her at her apartment to do some laundry together at the local mat. It’s more fun to go to the laundry mat with a friend. She had to run an errand before we left and said she would leave the door unlocked for me. “Oh! There’s a fresh pot of potato soup on the stove! Help yourself!” Keep in mind that I am not a big fan of this soup, but being a good sport, I made myself a tiny bowl of the soup and had most of it eaten by the time she walked in the door. She was smiling when she saw the nearly empty bowl sitting in front of me on the coffee table.

She went in the kitchen and made herself a bowl and settled on the sofa next to me. That’s when it got interesting.

“I’m so glad you left me a few pieces of potato to eat with my soup.” She wasn’t looking at me, but rather sulkily spooning the watery, white liquid into her mouth. I could actually feel the sarcasm, but I had no idea what she meant by it, so I asked, “What do you mean?”. She dropped her spoon into her bowl and looked at me then. I remember her voice became this steady, high pitched whine.

“YOU ATE ALL OF THE POTATOES IN THE SOUP!” I was floored by this accusation! How was that even possible? I had less than a cup of soup with maybe a few potato cubes in it. So I told her this and she scoffed. She actually snorted out her disbelief and if she thought I might allow her to say it, I think she might have even called me a liar! I could not believe we were having this conversation. She was truly livid over this and I had no idea how to convince her that the potato eating culprit was not me!

I let that roll off my back that night and remained friends with her for many years before our paths forked and I went the way of a land with no potato soup nazis.

Do I miss her soup?

No.

Do I miss her?

No, I really don’t.

As life would have it, she was that way about many, many things, not just about her soup.

The lesson I learned was that if you invite someone to your home to feed them, whether it be spiritually or nutritionally, you give 100%, even if it means you eat less, or you eat last. You make sure your guest has a full belly, a lightened heart and a smile on their face.

When I open my home to my friends to feed them, it is my goal to fill them up with love and goodness. No one will ever walk away from my table and feel the pang from not having enough to eat, or from being unloved. No one will ever be afraid to ask  for second helpings or food for thought later that week. I cook with love and you can taste it in every bite of food and you can hear it in the rings of laughter around our humble dinner table.

So the next time someone accuses you of eating all of the potatoes in the soup, tell them that they should either peel extra potatoes, or get used to eating alone.

Bon apetit!! 🙂

 

 

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About Madeline Scribes

A writer with a sense of humor. If anyone can laugh at life, it's me.
This entry was posted in All kinds of Advice and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to potato soup…NO SOUP FOR YOU!!

  1. whine-wine-whatever says:

    I so love this blog.

    I learned from my mother — a wise woman in all aspects of life — that having friends over for a meal was a privilege…for her. She wanted you to feel special. She wanted to nurture you with her food, food that was prepared with love and care. If 8 people were invited, she was sure to have enough to feed 20. God forbid there wouldn’t be enough. And she readily offered take-home containers of what was prepared. She loved to share her love, her food, her kindness, her laughter. Even just feeding the family, she’d take the burnt part of something, or leave the last piece of whatever for someone else, even if it was just a slice of tomato.

    You are the same kind of woman. And I am so lucky to know you. ❤

    Like

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