Beef Vegetable Soup

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It’s a frosty 9 degrees outside my ice-covered window, with a forecasted high of  21 degrees.  Snow still lingers on the ground, with little occasion to thaw.

Thank goodness there are other ways to thaw, like with my mother’s hearty vegetable soup…if only I had the ingredients at hand in my freezer.

Alas, I’m starting from scratch with tonight’s dinner; I’m cooking a nice roast beef which will  allow me to make half a recipe of this simple soup for tomorrow night’s supper.

I fear I’m a broken record when I share that there is nothing better to serve (or easier to make) than a home-made soup on a cold winter’s day.  But then we are all broken in one way or another, n’est-ce pas?

This soup is a great way to use up leftovers and I hate to throw out food, even if it’s only half a cup of corn or green beans.  Instead, I pour the small amount into freezer bags — and when I have enough saved it’s time to make this soup.

Or course, one doesn’t have to use leftovers.  One can cook a roast beef  like I’m doing today and then make the soup out of the roast and  broth using fresh or frozen mixed vegetables.  But it’s great to get two meals for the price of one, so I always opt to serve a roast beef dinner first, saving soup for a future second meal.  Some days, it’s just good to have a pot of soup hiding in my freezer that can be pulled together in thirty minutes or less.

To prepare this meal, I literally clean out my freezer, which makes each batch just slightly different.  There’s little science to it — a little more of less of something is not going to hurt; this soup is very forgiving if I don’t get it “just right.”   In this way, the soup becomes a parable, pointing to the beauty of a forgiving spirit… when those we  love and work beside fail to get life  “‘right” according to our own recipes for living it.

My usual soup-making drill looks something like this:  I open up my freezer in search of an easy meal.  Out comes the frozen beef stock.  I empty it directly into my large saucepan where it simmers until completely defrosted.  Then out come all the small bags of uncooked and cooked vegetables and roast beef.

Bags of uncooked diced celery and onion are always waiting in the freezer for “such a time as this” — these frozen soup and sauce starters are the best time-saver —  a tip I learned from my Aunt Jo some time ago.   Once the stock is heated, everything but the pasta goes into the pot to simmer.  The cooked pasta goes in shortly before serving.

Like my mother before me, I serve the soup with cornbread — and the soup itself in bowls with slices of cold cheddar cheese covering the bottom.  The hot soup melts the cheese and even now, writing this memory sends me back to those cold winter days of my childhood.

Looking out the frosty window reminds me of those earlier days too, when I would artfully inscribe some little message in the ice with my finger.   If I were to indulge in this fancy today, my window would simply say this to you:   “From my life to yours”…

Beef Vegetable Soup

Serves 4 to 6    30 minutes to prepare

 
4 cups beef broth, (preferably home-made, fat removed)
1 14.5 oz petite diced tomatoes
1 15 oz can tomato sauce
1/2 cup diced onion
1/2 cup diced celery
3 cups vegetables chopped (canned, frozen or fresh)
2 cups roasted beef (fat removed)  (at times, I’ve even substituted cooked crumbled ground beef)
1 – 2 tsp salt (depends on salt level of ingredients — start with 1 tsp and adjust to taste)
1/2 tsp pepper
1 cup penne pasta, cooked al dente

Heat broth in a large sauce over medium-low heat.  Add all other ingredients but pasta.  Cook until vegetables are fork tender.  Remove from heat; set aside until ready to serve.  I often pull this soup together in the morning and allow it to rest, giving time for the ingredients to blend together.  Fifteen minutes before serving, I warm the soup over medium heat with the cooked pasta.

Serve warm in bowls over slices of  cheddar cheese with a piece of buttered cornbread by its side.

Doctor’s Orders

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Kate wearing Grandma's Nurse Cap & Cape

It is good to have the ability to take it easy, to relax with a good book in my lap and fall asleep when my body tells me to.

I don’t take this pleasure for granted.  My sister Christi has been fighting a sinus infection (or something) for over a month and has pulled herself up by the bootstrap every morning to soldier herself into work.  My husband regularly does the same thing, and since he has a virtual office, there’s no risk of spreading the wealth of infection.

Where I mess up in own health care is that I mostly ignore the doctor’s orders.  I’ve been known not to take my pain pills.  Or to forget to take my anti-biotic.  Or to just say no to most recommended medications.  The worst is that I push myself to resume normal everyday life too quickly.

Maybe it’s an age thing, or perhaps this dental surgery has taken more out of me than one would think, but this time I’m not pushing.  I’m listening to my body and trying to give it what the doctor ordered:  Cold packs every 20 minutes yesterday and today it’s cold and hot packs alternating.  If I’m hungry, I force myself to eat a little something unexciting.  For now, it’s a soft food diet — all cold yesterday — today it’s warm and cold.  If I’m in pain, I’ve taken pain medication.  Although, already I’m weaning myself as I hate the groggy side-effects.

As I was eating my lukewarm lunch a few minutes ago, I was comparing life after surgery to becoming a baby again.  Lots of sleep.  Lots of soft food.  And someone who I call ‘Honey” magically taking care of all of my little jobs to keep my slice of the world going  — the laundry, feeding the dogs and getting supper for himself and Kyle.

Just a little bit ago, my husband checked in to find me in bed.  I had been up earlier.  But at noon, I had gone back to bed.  Rather than making fun, my husband said he was proud of me.  But you’re not going to believe the best part:  With a big smile on his face, he told me that I was beautiful.   Imagine that.  I didn’t know my man had a weakness for that half-puffy jaw and smashed bed hair look.

But then… my husband is scheduled for lasik surgery tomorrow afternoon…

Epiphany from a Wise Guy

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With many others today, I celebrate the Christ child made known to a traveling band of Magi.  It had been a long journey.  They came out of the east guided only by a star, their questions and faith.   The wise men must have felt both joy and relief, for surely they arrived in Bethlehem tired and sore from their travels.

Today I am more tired than sore thanks to the wonders of pain relief medication.  But I too received  gifts from  completing my long-awaited appointment with the dentist’s chair.  No frankincense, myrrh or gold are in hand, but my gifts were precious all the same, since they lightened the heaviness of  a day that I’ve fretted over since this time a year ago.

My dentist would be surprised to find himself the bearer of gifts in my eyes; his quietly spoken quips are just his ordinary dose of levity to keep patient’s distracted from the task at hand.  He may not have thought I’d remember the words to tell the story.  I was, after all, under the effects of nitrous oxide for the better part of an hour.

In my experience, the gas called laughing gas normally tends to make life calm and serene, even when someone is putting all kinds of scary torture devices into my mouth.  But today it actually lived up to its name.  In that happy place, far removed from the fear of leading edge dentistry by one of the city’s best and brightest, I wonder at my daring to call one of my  gifts  epiphany, defined as,

“a sudden, intuitive perception of …or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.”

In no particular order, I share all my little treasures with you — the  “Quips from my dentist” alongside  (my unspoken thoughts in parenthesis)…

  • “Boy, I’d forgotten how tiny your mouth is.  But I bet YOUR friends don’t find it so small.  (Really, now, how does he expect me to reply to that, especially with a needle in my mouth.)
  • After many, many one-line quips, to which I was in no position to respond with a half-dead tongue, I thought:  (Being a dentist is a great proving ground toward becoming a stand-up comedian)
  • At the critical point where it was  time to install the implant, my dentist thoughtfully said to my tiny mouth, “Now, how am I going to do this?”  (Do I want to hear these words coming out of your mouth right now..?)

Having shared these, I realize none of my gifts may actually be viewed as an epiphany outside that far away land of nitrous oxide.  But today, it’s all I  have — these few moments of levity that brought light into a dark scary place — which made my dentist no ordinary wise guy.