(Apologies at the outset to anyone who now has the John McCutcheon song running through their head. I certainly do. Oh, and full credit to Mr. McCutcheon for the wording, too.)
Today has been a soup day at our house. After a week's beginning that had more in common with July than October the weather has finally settled into a fall groove: highs in the sixties and lows around forty degrees. We were debating whether to start a fire in the fireplace this evening. That means it's time to make some soups.
Soups are one of Sarah's kitchen specialties. I scour our cupboards and conclude that there's nothing there that could ever become food; Sarah glances at their contents and begins assembling a culinary masterpiece.
Tonight's supper was a staid potato corn chowder. Lunch, though, was something different. I'll let Sarah share the full recipe if she likes. All I know is that sweet potatoes, peppers and peanuts went into a pot and half an hour later we were eating a delicious, spicy, filling soup. I think it's magic.
P.S. Eliza, thanks for the tip. I'm trying to work myself up for hot breakfasts; a different texture for the cereal just might help.
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