Soup

Shoestring Alley has posted a lovely recipe for soup which I am going to try but it reminded me of my first attempt at soup making which I though I would share with you.

My Nana and Mum were both great soup makers so when Babes and I moved into our first (owned) flat. My Nana gave me her recipe for Scotch Broth. A relatively simple recipe and having soaked my pulses overnight and rinsed them, I put all my ingredients into my humongous soup pan and put it on at a slow simmer.

Now being the smart (not) person that I was, I thought, it'll be OK to leave it whilst, I just pop round to the shop and get a loaf, then Babes can have a lovely plate of soup when he comes in from work. The shop is just a few doors down and it'll just take me minute. Of course when I get to the shop I meet an old neighbour who wants to know every detail that's happened in our lives in the last 10 years. Not wanting to be rude, I stand chatting, trying to make my excuses and escape but always being asked another question.

Eventually, her bus comes and I can run home to my soup. I open the flat door to a cloud of steam and rush into the kitchen to switch off the gas. I open the window and as the steam clears I notice that my walls are not only wet with condensation but the super "postbox red" paint I had lovingly decorated my kitchen with is running down the walls in streaks.

Needless to say I've never left a gas on again, but my poor kitchen never recovered and had to be repainted. Oh and as for the soup it was disgusting, just a big stodgy mush. To this day I have never made Scotch Broth again.