Dinner last night was comprised of rolls still steaming from the oven {Rhodes, of course, because when I put something in the oven, I feel like I'm actually baking (as opposed to just pulling an item out of the freezer and letting it rise for a few hours and stopping short of sliding said item in the oven at 350 degrees for 15 minutes.) And that makes me feel like I've done something I'm supposed to do for my family (which is feeding them a well-planned meal. And I did plan well - I remembered to take the rolls out of the freezer in time to eat with the meal for which they were intended!)}. And I made soup.
Really, this soup I actually made. From scratch! With chicken broth (which was not from scratch. Bullion cubes. I don't boil chicken bones. I don't even buy chicken with bones - it's boneless, skinless breasts for me!), chopped onion, diced garlic, a bit of salt and pepper, a dash of nutmeg, some milk, and fresh cauliflower. Oh, and cheese. The soup wasn't too difficult and I really needed to do something with that head of cauliflower that had been rolling around the produce drawer (nice imagery, huh.)
Apparently, when Ryan called on his way home from work and asked what we were eating for dinner (he used to ask me what I was cooking for dinner, then he realized that perhaps he was being a bit presumptuous, assuming I was making something different everyday. So one day he amended his question to asking what we were eating), I told him I was making a broccoli soup. And I guess one of my girls overheard me, because after Ryan arrived home and established that it was cauliflower, not broccoli soup, and we began eating, this child swallowed a spoonful and announced, "Yeah - it tastes like Colorado to me!"
Really, this soup I actually made. From scratch! With chicken broth (which was not from scratch. Bullion cubes. I don't boil chicken bones. I don't even buy chicken with bones - it's boneless, skinless breasts for me!), chopped onion, diced garlic, a bit of salt and pepper, a dash of nutmeg, some milk, and fresh cauliflower. Oh, and cheese. The soup wasn't too difficult and I really needed to do something with that head of cauliflower that had been rolling around the produce drawer (nice imagery, huh.)
Apparently, when Ryan called on his way home from work and asked what we were eating for dinner (he used to ask me what I was cooking for dinner, then he realized that perhaps he was being a bit presumptuous, assuming I was making something different everyday. So one day he amended his question to asking what we were eating), I told him I was making a broccoli soup. And I guess one of my girls overheard me, because after Ryan arrived home and established that it was cauliflower, not broccoli soup, and we began eating, this child swallowed a spoonful and announced, "Yeah - it tastes like Colorado to me!"
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