Rocket and Parmesan Soup
Soup 160 from The Soup Book. The recipe by Celia Brooks Brown looked simple, the preparation was simple. No processing: just the hand blender. Simple. What did I need? Olive oil, onions (chopped), potatoes (skins left on and cubed), garlic (crushed), vegetable stock, Parmesan rind (yes, that's right - rind; "tiny diced"), and rocket (roughly chopped). What made it even simpler was that I had everything except for the rocket. I had to go into town anyway so I decided to go to Temple Bar for fresh organic rocket.
My first stop while in town was at Merrion Square to see what was happening at Dublin Pride 2013. Then I sauntered along Nassau Street, through the Trinity College campus, across College Green, down Anglesea Street, an errand in Cope Street and then to Curved Street. Having bought rocket from the stall-holder, he told me about pesto he'd made using rocket, mantega and walnuts (mmmm!).
Home. The spouse was back from Belfast. We're home alone, what with the younger offspring out of the country. Time to cook. I did the necessary preparation and on went the gas. Once the potatoes were tender, the last ingredient (the rocket) went into the mix. Less than five minutes later I turned off the gas and blended the soup. The spouse was called and we sat down to eat.
Verdict: Not bad but not great. I probably would make it again but I'm not committing myself to it.
Bee is for Books
For my next book group meeting I've been reading All Quiet on the Western Front (Im Westen Nichts Neues) by Erich Maria Remarque. Why didn't I read this book sooner? Why isn't it compulsory reading for soldiers and recruits everywhere? I'm sure other people have read it and expressed their reactions more eloquently than I could, so I'll go straight to the bee and honey references:
I've just spent some time trying to find out what might have been used as a substitute for honey but without success.
Bee Window
I was in Edinburgh during the week. On the way back to the airport, this window caught my eye. While I try to avoid advertising, this seemed to bee in a good cause.
Bye for now.
My first stop while in town was at Merrion Square to see what was happening at Dublin Pride 2013. Then I sauntered along Nassau Street, through the Trinity College campus, across College Green, down Anglesea Street, an errand in Cope Street and then to Curved Street. Having bought rocket from the stall-holder, he told me about pesto he'd made using rocket, mantega and walnuts (mmmm!).
Home. The spouse was back from Belfast. We're home alone, what with the younger offspring out of the country. Time to cook. I did the necessary preparation and on went the gas. Once the potatoes were tender, the last ingredient (the rocket) went into the mix. Less than five minutes later I turned off the gas and blended the soup. The spouse was called and we sat down to eat.
Verdict: Not bad but not great. I probably would make it again but I'm not committing myself to it.
Bee is for Books
For my next book group meeting I've been reading All Quiet on the Western Front (Im Westen Nichts Neues) by Erich Maria Remarque. Why didn't I read this book sooner? Why isn't it compulsory reading for soldiers and recruits everywhere? I'm sure other people have read it and expressed their reactions more eloquently than I could, so I'll go straight to the bee and honey references:
He was beaten - this was simply too much for him - everything was turned upside down. And as if he wanted to show that he didn't care any more, he gave out half a pound of ersatz honey, off his own bat.
I've just spent some time trying to find out what might have been used as a substitute for honey but without success.
The muted rumble of the front sounds like nothing more than very distant thunder. Even the bumble bees drown it out when they buzz past.
Burning houses stand like torches in the night. Shells thunder down and make their impact. ... In spite of shrapnel, the drivers move in like a swarm of bees and steal loaves of bread.
The trees here glow bright and gold, the rowan berries are red against the leaves, white country roads run on towards the horizon, and the canteens are all buzzing like beehives with rumours of peace.
Bee Window
I was in Edinburgh during the week. On the way back to the airport, this window caught my eye. While I try to avoid advertising, this seemed to bee in a good cause.
Bye for now.
Minnie
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