It’s officially been spring for a few weeks now, but it really has not felt even remotely spring-like yet. Until this weekend. The sun decided to finally shine for more than a few fleeting moments, and the temperature crawled it’s way (just barely) past the 60 degree mark.
I took a trip to the Waverly Farmer’s Market for a research project I’m doing in my Food Politics class, and couldn’t help but notice all of the baby blossoms that were making their presence known at so many of the stands.
I have a confession to make. I’m obsessed with soup. Absolutely and utterly head over heels in love with the idea of snuggling up with a warm bowl of goodness. If I had to eat one food and one food only for the rest of my life, it would be soup. And that’s saying a lot, because I like a lot of foods.
I can’t really tell you when, how, or why exactly my love affair with soup truly started, but here are a few things that I do know that are what I believe make soup the best meal on the planet:
I feel like peanut butter sandwiches sometimes get a bad rap. They’re usually seen as the most disappointing of the elementary school lunchbox sandwiches, or what college students have to resort to making themselves for dinner because they’re 1) not responsible enough to remember to buy groceries and 2) broke college students.
Breakfast and I have a love/hate relationship. And by that I mean that I love breakfast foods, but I hate eating in the morning. Okay so hate is a strong word, but I thoroughly do not enjoy eating so long as the numbers on the clock are followed by “AM.” I much prefer to start my day with a good, strong cup of coffee and then indulge in a hybrid breakfast/lunch type of meal once the hunger pangs start to strike at about noon. Basically I just want to eat brunch every day.
Such was not always the case. In fact, growing up, breakfast used to look a little something like this: