So Easy A Caveman Can't Do It
0 comment Sunday, August 24, 2014 |
Greetings. We just finished a harmonious family dinner involving . . . soup. And I felt like Corabeth.
Dear God, please tell me you remember Corabeth, the prickly, turn-of-the-century Miss Manners of Walton's Mountain? The woman with the Gibson Girl up-do who married Mr. Godsey, owner of Ike Godsey's General Merchandise?
The woman who smugly tried to "civilize" every person within a ten mile radius with her intricate doilies and pinkies-up poses?
Well, I channeled her tonight. I never mean to, but I did.
At the dinner table, here's how it went:
Me (to Mr. M): Please. Stop. Your caveman bearing is unbearable.
Mr. M: I'm not being a caveman.
Me: You look like you're bracing for an attack from rabid dogs.

Mr. M: Mom, there are no dogs here, just me.
Me: Just my point. Put that arm in your lap, please. You are not a wild animal. There is no need to protect your bowl.
Mr. M: silence and inertia
Me: Put that arm in your LAP, please. Now!
Mr. M (putting arm in lap): slurp.
Me: Stop the slurping! Outward, outward! The spoon is always moving outward. That's right. Now gently tip the contents into your mouth -- do not put the entire spoon in your mouth. That's why it's large and that's why it's called a soup spoon.
Mr. M (exasperated): Mom! With this bowl, I can't even get a full bite (he was right.) This is impossible (right again).
Me: You'll thank me for this when you're a grown-up. Do you know how many men I turned down for a second date, because of their manners?
Mr. M (slurping, surprisingly curious): No. How many?
Me (lying): Too few many to count. Uh-oh. You have a wayward bean on your place mat. Better get him.
Mr. M (grinning, and purposefully): SLURP.
Me: You know, if I were a girl on a date with you and I witnessed this caveman, slurping situation, I wouldn't go out with you again.
Mr. M (with now nearly perfect manners): You're a strict girl.

Me: Yes, yes I am. And you'd better hope you find a strict girl, as opposed to a, uh, loose girl who is not so strict.
Husband: I don't think anyone eats soup like that any more these days.
At that point I went into survival mode and thought it best to stop things right there, before I got any further behind.
But a word in my defense: there were no more slurps and there's no more soup.
And the recipe? So easy a caveman can do it. Here, the Caveman's Hearty Soup:
1 large potato, diced
4 c. water
2 cans Campbells' bean and bacon soup
1 chorizo (cured) sausage (and you can get it w/no nitrites/nitrates at Whole Foods)
1 can (do not drain) turnip or collard greens
Throw it all together in a big pot on the stove and cook until the potatoes are done. Then? Eat.
P.S.: On a completely unrelated note that I can't help but mention, is anyone watching the Massachusetts Senatorial Special Election polls? Even if you're not a political bug, this match-up deserves your attention. Seven weeks ago, it looked like the GOP had a better chance winning the lottery than beating the entrenched Democratic Martha Coakley. But now? It's looking like a jump ball.

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