you can never be too careful with soup. a fine broth will be ruined if it is cooked
too fast. all too quick it will turn from a disease curing elixir to a oily mess with all the
taste boiled out of it. and whatever character and unique textures it once had, that rich
tapestry of ingredients will become too soft or too hard to sustain your interest or your
life. of this I'm certain for I have ruined more than one pot with my impatience,
clumsiness, and hunger.
this time I’m preparing it with loving care, stirring it constantly over a low flame.
but there is no end to the tending. soup requires you use the simplest and best
ingredients. pare them down. combine them well. add the right spices and cook it long
and lovingly until that perfect moment of completeness has come. above all, you need to
avoid the temptation to rush, to try to force it to completion, force it to lose its simmering
soul to your momentary needs. allow it’s complexity and character to develop at its own
pace, for only then will it be truly satisfying.
every soup begun faithfully has potential for greatness. to reach far inside you
and make you whole. it demands you apply care and faith as seasoning. but this is all
that matters really. it may seem the soup will never be ready, is taking forever to be
done. but if you cannot abide the preparation, you will be forced to survive on the ruined
taste of your need or start over once again.
you and I know this. have gazed deeply into each other’s eyes, stirring gently.
nothing but daylight and promise and the glowing scented beauty of what we tend. have
faith my love, our recipe will feed the whole world. the lessons of the past have taught us
that there's no mending a broken heart. we have learned to grow another.
[Writers] [Birdhouse]