Written by Daniel Bristol
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Friday, 12 February 2010

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Soup is funny. It's not really a main course, but it's not a side dish either because it's mostly made of water. I find soup to be the most watery of foods.

There are soup that have beans in them, but they're not bean-dishes. Conversely, there are bean-dishes that are very soupy, but they're not soup.

Some people put bread in their soup, while others put soup in their bread. To me it's arbitrary. Whether you put soup in the bread or bread in the soup, you still have soupy bread.

There are soups we serve as appetizers, like French Onion Soup and there are soups that take the place of a whole meal, like your basic beef vegetable soup. There are even soups you serve for desert, and these range from a simple derivation of fruit salad to chocolate soups.

Some soups have multiple ingredients, like an Italian Wedding soup. Then there are soups that have only one ingredient, like cheddar. I don't know. I might dip my tortilla chips in it, but as much as I like cheese, I just can't see myself sitting down to a bowl of Campbell's Cheddar. It's like having a potato for dinner. But at the same time, we have no problem with Tomato soup. I guess it's the good ol' American double standard, unless our friends in Great Britain have the same tastes.

Some people find that making soup is too much trouble, and they'd rather just open a can for their soup. Some people just love making their own soup from scratch. Now, I love making soup, but I never seem to be able to find any scratch. Maybe it's by the paprika.

Different regions tend to become known for specific soups. New Englanders are frightfully proud of their chowder. Now, when Herman Melville wrote his classic, "Moby Dick," he included an entire chapter on the subject, and the reader was treated to a highly visual vignette on New England's two primary chowders: Clam and Cod. These days, New England is just known for its clam chowder, which stands in steadfast contrast to the not-so-popular Manhattan Clam Chowder, which is made from a tomato broth.

Sorry, New York. I may have grown up there, but my heart belongs to the Red Sox and to New England Clam Chowder. Otherwise, my wife will beat me into a coma!

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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