Greg Bales

Notes on Breakfast and Lunch

From a memo notebook that turned up in a pile on my desk, a pair of notes on meals I’ve had:

Derk’s Diner in Kalamazoo, MI (Since 1954)

Breakfast—Pancakes, bubbly butter made them leathery. American fries (fried potatoes)—good. Decent coffee.

Morris Diner in Morris, IL

Lunch—Slow service to go with elderly clientele; large dining room. Soup course is a full bowl of soup—more than anyone needs as an appetizer. Killed appetite. Decent grilled sandwiches, but [service is] too slow. Woman behind me talking about friend in Tennessee having a hysterectomy.

Including those notes, the notebook had dwindled to just a handful of pages. A paper mite crawled beween the pages that were left.

Such it would seem is the quality of my mind. My breakfasts are significantly worse.

Blender Best Practices

Yesterday K & I made this “Fabulous Fall Roots Soup,” which was indeed fabulous (especially with leeks, carrots, and rutabagas fresh from the farmer’s market), but, as a puréed soup, it raised again what has become a recurring problem for our soup making. Which is better for puréeing the soup: the blender or food processor?1

Usually, at K’s recommendation, we go with the food processor. Its workhorse motor makes short work of everything we throw at it. However, it can’t purée more than two cups of soup at a time—any more, and the soup winds its way under the blade, under the work bowl, and onto the table. To purée three or more quarts of soup therefore takes patience. So last night we tried the blender. “It will hold more soup without leaking,” I argued. “It even has a ‘Purée’ button! It should be just as successful at puréeing as the processor.” K capitulated, and we proceeded to fill the blender with leek, carrot, and rutabaga chunks and broth. But when I turned the thing on, hot soup welled up like a geyser, blew open the lid, and splattered everything in the kitchen within a three-foot radius—us included. I tried loading the machine with less soup, but no dice: every time I turned it on, geyser. The only real solution was to hold onto the lid for dear life and hope nothing escaped.

I’m rather disappointed in this turn of events, but I don’t know what happened. Is there some secret manual for successful soup blending that I need to read? If so, where can I get my hands on it?

1 Yes, yes, I know the real answer is an immersion blender. We had one once. It was long before we cooked soups regularly, and like the espresso maker that sits atop the kitchen cabinet, it was never used. I sold it on eBay to a Canadian.