Noses Wrinkle At Bean Soup

The bean soup is gone. I just finished washing the pot.
My husband, John, made the soup, and despite contradictory remarks from other family members, it was delicious.
John soaked the beans overnight in a pot of water.
The next morning, he chopped an onion so pungent that it brought tears to the eyes of everyone eating breakfast in the kitchen.
After adding other ingredients such as whole tomatoes and ham hocks, John placed the pot of soup on the stove to simmer.
This last step means that first you bring what you are cooking to a boil and then you reduce the heat. John thought otherwise but my opinion prevailed.
John left for the office and I was left in charge of baby-sitting his soup.
My instructions were to stir the soup occasionally until 3 p.m., at which time I was to remove the pot from the burner, let it cool and then place it in the refrigerator.
The recipe recommended refrigerating the soup overnight before reheating. We took a shortcut because we wanted to serve the soup that evening.
While running errands, I bumped into a neighbor who is an excellent cook. I told her about the soup-making effort and asked her advice: “What do you do with ham hocks?”
I shared my friend’s advice with John: “You should take the ham hocks out of the soup to cool, remove the meat from the bones, and break the tomatoes into pieces.”
When dinnertime arrived, we were set for a delicious meal. We had our soup, warm bread and a salad.
But there was a missing ingredient: hungry mouths. Five of our eight children were out for the evening. One of them left when he heard what was on the menu.
This left us with three little guys to share soup, which none was eager to try, despite my exclamatory remarks.
Mike succumbed to testing it after I bribed him with a box of candy canes. The other two guys ate the bread and I ate their soup.
There was enough leftover soup to be served the next evening with a spaghetti dish I had prepared.
Here’s a sampling of the commentary:
John: “This soup is savoir faire.” He kissed his finger tips.
Maureen: “What’s that supposed to mean?”
John: “It means it’s an old family recipe handed down from the cabinets.”
Machaela: “It is? I thought you got the recipe off the back of the bag of beans.”
Me: “It’s time to eat. Everyone come to the table. We’re having Dad’s bean soup.”
Pete: “I already had my bean soup last night.”
John: “There are several people here tonight who weren’t home last night to get some soup.”
Mike: “That’s right. They should get the most.”
Colleen: “This bean soup is good but how come you put so many beans in it?”
Me: “I’ll take everyone’s leftovers buy you have to at least try the soup before you can have another crescent role.”
Later, as I washed the bean pot, Pete came up to me. I asked’
“How did you like the soup?”
“Fine,” he said, “But I didn’t eat much. I didn’t like the leaves in the soup.”
“You mean the parsley?”
“They’re gross. Can I have something good to eat now, Like Teen-Age Mutant Ninja Turtle cereal?”
Pete is our connoisseur of fine dining.
December 4,1989