From my previous posts, you might assume that I can find my way around the kitchen fairly well. Sometimes yes, sometimes no.
I love soup. Periodically I will make a great big pot of soup or stew and eat on it for a week. Sometimes it's tortilla soup, made from the kits you find at H.E.B. Sometimes it's the family stew recipe. Sometimes it's to try a recipe from one of the Peach Tree Tearoom cookbooks. (Just for the record, the recipes in those cookbooks are completely reliable. I've never tried a recipe I didn't like.) Last night I made my bean soup that is adapted from the 15-Bean Cajun Soup mix available in the grocery store. It made a GREAT big pot of soup. I had two bowls for supper.
I normally divide leftover bean soup from the first night into freezer ziploc bags and freeze them to have on hand for nights when I don't feel like cooking. Last night I was too sleepy to deal with that, so I transferred the soup to a big storage bowl to refrigerate overnight. So far, so good.
As I finished up ladling the soup from pan to bowl, there was a little in the bottom of the pan I could not catch with the ladle, so I upended the pan to pour the dregs into the bowl. And I dropped the pan. Into the brimful bowl. With a plop.
You would be amazed at how far bean soup can travel under those circumstances. I was drenched with bean soup from head to toe. Bean soup was dripping off the stove, the nearby cabinets, the wall behind the stove, the door into the utility room and the dogs who had been hovering under my feet. Bean soup was splattered all over the kitchen floor. Even after cleaning up last night, cursing steadily all the while, I still found crusted bean soup everywhere this morning.
Despite all that, I still have a fairly full bowl of bean soup in the fridge. The recipe makes a lot. I'm almost afraid to tackle transferring it to the freezer bags tonight, because it does not do well as a decorative accent in your kitchen. Take my word for it. I know what I'm talking about.