Courgette and Potato Soup

Courgette and Potato Soup 

I've had a cooking fest this Easter weekend. It began in anticipation of the older offspring's arrival home last Thursday. One of his favourite cakes is banana gingerbread which I make to a recipe by Paul Flynn cut out of The Irish Times many years ago. I baked the gingerbread the night before he was due home and offered the batter bowl to the younger offspring to lick out. "No, thanks," he replied. "I only like to lick it when [my big brother] is here." When the older offspring arrived home, he complained about not getting mentioned as often as his younger brother in this blog. Sibling rivalry and psychological button-pressing is alive and well chez Minnie.

We were having guests for Easter lunch (Juno, Mervyn and Steed) and our menu was to be a shellfish starter, roast beef and trimmings for the main course, and a choice of plum and almond tart and simnel cake for dessert. The spouse took charge of the starter and main course while I handled the Yorkshire pudding and the desserts. The day before our festive lunch I was cycling by Young Stephen's shop and happened to see him coming out. "What nice things have you got in today?" I asked. "Plums," he replied. How fortuitous! I popped back later and bought the plums for the tart, as well as the courgette and dill I would need for that day's soup.

So, back to the task in hand: making courgette and potato soup (my 117th from The Soup Book). Ingredients: potatoes, chicken stock, olive oil, courgettes, an onion, white pepper (I used black), cream, milk and dill. I cooked the diced potatoes in the stock until they were tender, then blended them. Next, I fried the grated courgettes and onion. When they were soft, I poured in the cream, milk and pureed potato broth. Finally, in went the dill.  All three Y-chromosomed members of the family had gone out to watch a rugby match, so I supped alone. I wasn't seduced by the soup, finding it somewhat bitter and bland at the same time. The others liked it, so perhaps I will make it again. It's on my "maybe" list.

Bee Buzz 

I have very little to report on the bee front this week. That said, I have seen a couple of enormous bumble bees around - presumably queens of the Berthe sort.

In last Saturday's Irish Times there was an advert for bee nests that look like bird houses.

Finally, I have just finished reading Hope: A Tragedy by Shalom Auslander. The reviews were intriguing: "uproariously funny", said one. The idea of Anne Frank surviving the holocaust and living in an attic in a rural town somewhere outside New York was also intriguing. How do bees come into it? See below.

Jonah [the protagonist's young son] was allergic to bees. And pollen. And cats.
How would they ever hide in an attic with Jonah allergic to bees? Winters would be fine, but spring would be impossible with his constant sneezing giving them away. Don't ha-choo shoot. Summer would be even worse. What if the bees got inside the attic, what then? 
That's all for now.

Minnie

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