He bursts through the front door – unwittingly inviting in the crisp November breeze. Out of breath and on a mission, he spreads out a world map on the kitchen table. An explorer out at sea – years in search of a long-lost exotic land. And now so close to setting his eyes upon it. Almost within reach.
Mama, this is the best soup in the whole wild world.
Soleil is right, Mama. Make this soup every day and every night and every afternoon.
Can we have this for lunch tomorrow, Mama?!
Allow me to explain.
Although I’d like to take full credit for all the glowing adulation of my-soup making abilities, I also need to extend a big thank you to my not so silent cohort – sugar. The white, refined, not-so-natural variety.
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