Taking an attractive photo of split pea soup is way beyond my capabilities. Happily, though, I have it on good authority that I’ve at least managed to turn out a tasty bowlful (or vat, in this case), so it’s all good.
Here’s an excerpt from last week’s conversation regarding the making of the soup:
“Hey, let’s pick up the ham this weekend. That way, I can make split pea soup while it’s still cold outside.”
“Yeah, but that’s what you said last year, and you never made the soup.”
“Aw, you’re right. Hey, never mind! Don’t worry about it—I probably won’t make the soup anyway.”
“No! I’m just saying….”
“No, you’re totally right!”
Of course, I came away feeling like I’d won that round, but come on: although I didn’t appreciate the reminder, he spoke nothing but the plain truth, so he got his soup. I used the recipe my mom has always used, from a restaurant called The Dutchman. The real reason I never made it last year? I was too scared! My mom’s split pea soup is the only one I’ve ever actually enjoyed; I’ve found all others to be, frankly, nasty. Mine didn’t come out quite as thick and rich as yours, Mom, but it’s close enough, which is good considering the gallons that are now chilling in the fridge.
Kelli’s post a couple of weeks ago reminded me [Thank you, Kelli!] that I’d never tried any of the famous no-knead bread recipes that caused such a stir last year. I even bought a ceramic casserole dish for the occasion, and then never got around to making it. So, what goes better with a nice bowl of soup than a crusty chunk of freshly-baked bread? Nuttin’, honey! I hereby take my place as possibly one of the last kids on the block to name this the easiest bread ever. The hardest part is remembering to start it the night before, seriously. What I’d really like is a sourdough version of this baby. Anybody have any good tips for that?