Soup. Soup. Beautiful Soup.

It has rained since Wednesday morning. I haven't driven my car anywhere without the windshield wipers since Tuesday. Today after grad school at George Mason, I stopped at Target to buy a heavy-duty poncho (thanks Eddie Bauer!) because back in August I thought that the Redskins vs. Chiefs game on October 18th sounded like a good idea. And by golly, if I paid $75 to watch these two terrible teams, then I am going to try to be as dry as possible doing it. I don't even have a chance with the weather forecast. Eighty percent chance of rain. You may watch us on TV at noon Kansas time and laugh.

So tonight I made soup. More soup than I have ever made in my entire life because Rachel and I are going to a soup exchange on Tuesday. We'll tell you about that another time. For now, you most know that this soup could be legendary and life changing.

I've always had an affinity for soup. When I was a middle schooler with poor acting skills and a knack for the overdramatic, I played the Duchess in "Alice in Wonderland." A pretty unimportant role really. I sang a song with the Mock Turtle about soup.

"Soup, soup, beautiful soup..."

I don't remember the rest, but Andrea and I love to sing those terrible lyrics whenever we discuss soup. I'm sure she is singing it as she reads it.

Earlier this week I made a tortilla soup from scratch with no recipe that was so good Jill M. at work told me she wanted to marry it. A true testament to it's awesomeness because 1. She's already engaged and 2. You can't marry soup. Not even in Massachusetts.

But that got me thinking. Maybe I could use a soup to find a suitor.

So tonight to escape the rain, I quadrupled the recipe and made Food & Wine's "Sausage and Mushroom Soup," using my favorite chicken italian sausage from superTarget. I added white wine because it felt right. And it tasted right while I cooked.

In college, I made "boyfriend brownies" that my roommates told me were so good I could get a boyfriend. With this soup, I hope to catch a husband. Then every year on our anniversary, I'll make this soup, and he'll sing a song,

"Soup, soup, husband soup," and we'll laugh about that fateful day when he brought me some chardonnay, and I made him the soup that changed both our lives.


I believe in the power of this soup. Excuse me while I get some more, finish the bottle of chardonnay, and chose my bridesmaids.