The Other French Onion Soup

We are having cold weather in Philadelphia. I want hot comforting soup.

Pour les invalides of Plum Street, this soup is simple to make - or make for someone else - even if you do not cook much. We know who we are.

This onion and cheese soup is tasty and does not require any special cooking skill at all. The quantity is infinitely expandable, just maintain the proportion of equal weights of onion to potato. Serves 2 to 4 people.

The Other French Onion Soup

3 large Potatoes
3 large Onions
8 ounces Swiss Cheese (quantity to taste)
Garnish of Minced Celery Tops

Peel onions and potatoes and place them in a deep soup pot. Be generous about removing outer layers of onion that are too tough to cook and bad for your digestion. Add enough water to cover the vegetables plus one inch above them. Bring water to a boil, then turn down and simmer until onions and potatoes are very soft. Grate the cheese. Mash the vegetables in their own broth when tender. Season with Salt and Pepper. Stir the cheese into the hot soup and serve. Garnish with minced celery tops.

You may wish to substitute another cheese or garnish (minced parsley, bacon bits, etc.). I prefer the combination above, as taught me by an elderly French woman whose surname I never learned. She was Madame Sophie always. A little green salad and some good bread and I feel a happy well fed person.

Note: Do not overcook or your soup will be gluey. Cook only until you can pierce the vegetables with a fork. You want texture in your soup. Do not be lazy. Mince the celery very fine. You will be glad you did.

February - The Love Month #2

I love poetry. Shameless hot love. I found the Poetry Foundation. 

I went there hunting poems about Love. This poem was listed under Funny Love Poems. The poem comes from the book Bar Napkin Sonnets. 

I have lived this and I ain't laughing. Poem so good it hurts. I am remembering, lusting after and loving all and everyone who was there. I love them now. Even those who do not talk to me anymore.

Bar Napkin Sonnet #11

Things happen when you drink too much mescal.
One night, with not enough food in my belly,
he kept on buying. I'm a girl who'll fall
damn near in love with gratitude and, well, he
was hot and generous and so the least
that I could do was let him kiss me, hard
and soft and any way you want it, beast
and beauty, lime and salt—sweet Bacchus' pards—
and when his friend showed up I felt so warm
and generous I let him kiss me too.
His buddy asked me if it was the worm
inside that makes me do the things I do.
I wasn't sure which worm he meant, the one
I ate? The one that eats at me alone?

by Moira Egan

February - the Love Month #1

since you’ve been gone

since you’ve been gone, I’ve been alone.
like an arm without a bone.
dangling limply like a phone that’s out of charge.
like homer without marge.
like an egg without a spoon.
like a dugong on the moon.
like a clownfish without nemo.
like twilight without emo.
like hardy without laurel.
like high ground without the moral.
like disney without walt.
like battery without assault.
like a pet shop without gerbils.
like hitler without goebbels.
like a dilemma without the di,
just a lemma and a sigh.
like déjà without vu,
I am nothing without you.
till the day that you come back,
I’m like whitney without crack.

- Bill Bailey (via acupofpoetry)

The Dream

"Our only hope today lies in our ability to recapture the revolutionary spirit and go out into a sometimes hostile world declaring eternal hostility to poverty, racism, and militarism." - Martin Luther King

Countee Cullen is a giant of an American poet. I dream America free of bigotry of the killing kind - so exquisitely expressed in Cullen's poem.

Countee Cullen

INCIDENT

Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,
And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out
His tongue, and called me, 'Nigger.'

I saw the whole of Baltimore
From May until December;
Of all the things that happened there
That's all that I remember.

Rest in Peace Martin Luther King Jr. The struggle continues.

Lyrics to Lift Every Voice and Sing written by another poet of the Harlem Renaissance James Weldon Johnson. Composer is J. Rosamond Johnson. History of the Harlem Renaissance and its Poets HERE. 

Lyrics:

Lift ev'ry voice and sing,
'Til earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;

Let our rejoicing rise
High as the list'ning skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on 'til victory is won.

Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chastening rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past,
'Til now we stand at last
Where the gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who has by Thy might
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.