Then there's the handful of salt you end up putting without intending to, in the vain hope that it might somehow be about something. Or the thinking that soup's healthy trap. This soup tastes good, only to realise that 'tastes good' is relative to soup and you've used more fat than is contained in a portion of fried chicken to try and oomph it up.
The texture often isn't right, silky smooth, often it's too thick and yet at the same time bitty and gritty. So you feel like you are swallowing something you should be chewing.
All this for something that was presumably created to be a vehicle for leftovers. In order to make it taste anything like exciting- without talking it up- it tends to become unbalanced. The tendency is, f it tastes even half way decent, you might as well have something that has comparable fat and less salt and is better conceived and satisfying.
What is it, a drink or food?
Would you pour say, orange juice, even the kind 'with bits' into a bowl and slurp it with a spoon?
Identity crisis.
A hearty soup is either a thin or nearly stew, nothing wrong with that. If you actually make a stew, you can have it with some rice or some other starchy ballast. Rather than having it all dumped in the soup. Every bite, more or less the same. Any room for differing combinations, depends on your spoon craft or the viscosity of our bowl full of steam.
But more than anything, I think what has been the final straw in my flight from soup, it's this deadly phrase.
'A nourishing bowl of soup'It has to advertise its moral credentials to entice?
A sure sign that something is up is when the pleasure doesn't come from the thing itself, but all the fuss that surrounds it. There are times when one might do bad things if you don't get your hands on some, fried chicken, or french fried potatoes or whatever. But who really would rough someone up if they got in the way of the soup tureen?
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