The Blueberry Soup Incident
Posted: Sunday, December 25, 2011
by Jack H. Schick
Christmas Eve morning I was apprehensive about our drive a third of the way across megalopolis in the old Jeep loaded with presents and the two dogs, but everything went okay. We had no delays skirting Philly and were passing through Wilmington in about an hour (yes, we drive pretty fast). In another hour or so we were in Baltimore—no problems their either. It was only about fifteen minutes until the Raven’s kicked off, so all that traffic was already parked at the stadium. We usually stay on Rte 295 and cut straight across D.C. rather than risking the Beltway where I’ve suffered some nightmares. Again, it was smooth sailing (the Redskins game was underway by then). We got to my daughter’s place right on schedule.
At first, I was kind of stuck. The only kitchen disasters I’ve personally had were fires. Kitchen fires seemed a little mundane to me. Everybody has them, I think. I never had to call the fire department or anything. None of mine ever spread much further than the kitchen—unless you count smoke damage, and that time the bushes caught fire when I had to quick throw a pan of flaming grease out the back door. I needed something better for my story than a routine fire. It was between games, so I went back down and asked the women if they had any kitchen disasters stories.
My daughter is vegan. That means (as far as I can tell), she eats nothing but vegetable matter. Besides no meat or fish, she eats no dairy products and no eggs. She checks the ingredients on everything and if there is even a hint of an animal product in it, she passes. I suppose some people would consider some of the dishes she prepares for holiday dinners to be kitchen disasters themselves, but most of them are okay. I actually like the tofu turkey (I like to call it toad-food, to get her goat). I have to admit, the soy gravy leaves something to be desired, but she doesn’t force it on us. We’re allowed to add some normal people food to the menu, especially if my son is there, too (he’ll be over Christmas afternoon).
She said she’d never had a fire, which surprised me. She’s had her share of kitchen disasters, though. She enthusiastically told me about the Blueberry Soup Incident. “Blueberry soup?!” I said. I suppose you have to come up with some innovative meals if you’re going to only eat plants. Blueberry soup sounded, well, I guess interesting is the best word. My wife thought it sounded really good, but I wondered. I kept trying to envision what it might look and taste like. I like minestrone.
It seems, to make blueberry soup; you first simmer blueberries and honey in water. Next, you put the whole mess in the blender and puree it. Then you mix it with yogurt (she was just a vegetarian back then. I’m not sure they make soy yogurt). She doesn’t know if that is all you had to do because she never got past that step of the recipe. It doesn’t sound too tough, but anytime you’re dealing with boiling hot stuff and kitchen appliances there’s plenty of room for disaster.
My daughter is a very orderly, precise woman. She followed the directions to the letter. She simmered the brew exactly as long as the recipe said to. She said it smelled and looked great. It was really hot, though. She burned her tongue tasting some. That was just a foreshadowing of things to come. As per directions, she carefully poured the mixture into the blender, scraping the last, tasty bit out of the bottom of the pot. She put the lid on the blender and pushed the ‘puree’ button.
It exploded in her face. The top blew off the blender. Scalding hot blueberry goop flew everywhere. It hit the ceiling. It splattered the walls, cabinets and counter top. It flew all the way into the dining room, spackling the white carpet. It was dripping from her hair and her eyebrows. It soaked the front of her blouse giving her second degree burns on her chest.
Blueberry soup sure sounded good. It looked like it was easy to make, too, but there was no step in the recipe that said you had to let the blueberries and honey cool before pureeing it. When it was whipped up in the blender, the hot liquid flashed to steam. The ensuing blast wounded her and wreaked devastation on the entire back half of her apartment. It took hours to tend to her injuries and clean up the mess. She hired in a carpet cleaner, but the stains never did come out. She had to wear loose fitting shirts for a while because of the blisters.
I was surprised to see a bag of frozen blueberries in her freezer. She doesn’t eat yogurt anymore, though. Blueberry soup is definitely not on the menu for Christmas dinner. Both my wife and her still think it sounds good, but “once burned, twice shy,” as they say. We’re going to have acorn squash risotto, beet and apple slaw, roast asparagus, home made cranberry sauce, gingerbread cake made with soy milk and my favorite…’toad-food’ turkey. I sure hope there are no new disasters to report.
{Assignment: “Kitchen Disasters”}
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)Haha....tell you what, I also have a similar story to tell after reading yours. This is pure funny. I like you always include a dog or two in your articles and a she.thanks for reading and commenting
That is a cute story and so real. Nice travelling detail and a homespun and enchanting theme.Thanks so much.
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