I saw a famous man eating soup.
I say he was lifting a fat broth
Into his mouth with a spoon.
His name was in the newspapers that day
Spelled out in tall black headlines
And thousands of people were talking about him.
When I saw him,
He sat bending his head over a plate
Putting soup in his mouth with a spoon.
“Soup” by Carl Sandburg
There is nothing, no nothing, as comforting and wonderful as a bowl of hot soup on an Autumn day. Even Carl Sandburg, Poet Extraordinaire, wrote poetry about soup. Around here we say “Zuppa” not because we are Italian but because we are funny and weird people. We love soup. My grandmother Emily was known to make a mean pot of soup. Split Pea is the one I remember the most. “Susie, it’s good for you just try it.” “Oh no,” I’d grimace and gag.
Today? I’d love to sit down and slurp a bowl of that creamy green goodness with my Grandma Emily – she would tell me I was pretty and smart and Jesus loved me more than anyone else. And, today? I’d believe her. Fifty-five years makes a huge difference in our taste buds and our reckoning. Amen?
Let’s eat soup – a cuppa soup and slurp and lick our lips and soak up the juice with a great big chunk of crusty bread with too much butter!
First up? Cauliflower soup. Second? Creamy Potato Soup. Turn your printer on – you are going to want these.
Beloved, I pray that all may go well with you and that you may be in good health, as it goes well with your soul. 3 John verse 2
On Tuesdays I always linkup with other Tasty Tuesday folk!