(no subject)
Mar. 28th, 2004 12:41 amchard and straw mushroom soup
seven or eight large swiss chard leaves
clove of garlic
soy sauce
mustard
small can of chinese straw mushrooms, drained
chicken broth
ramen-style noodles (if desired)
wash the chard and chop or tear leaves into strips. chop the garlic and heat it in a small amount of oil in a large saute pan. add the chard and soy sauce to taste; heat until leaves are wilted. add straw mushrooms and a small spoonful of mustard to taste. when cooked to your liking, add mixture to a plain chicken or vegetable broth already simmering on the stove. add cooked ramen or bean thread noodles; thicken stock with small spoonful of cornstarch if desired. serve hot. try to make do with the fact that your boyfriend has been working very late nights all week and you are tired of the quiet (and the cats are tired of you) and try to eat your soup in a dignified fashion, even though nobody's looking and you're pretty damn hungry. make elaborate plans to clean the house. don't. read your new book and stop to think about the passage on page 34 about periphescence. periphescence denotes the initial drugged and happy bedtime where you sniff your lover like a scented poppy for hours running. wish your boyfriend's shoulder was here right now so you could bite it, just a little. mine, right there. listen to the piano music floating through the walls, from somewhere in the house---the basement?---and completely neglect the cold and congealing pan of lovely soup on the stove. you'll make more.

seven or eight large swiss chard leaves
clove of garlic
soy sauce
mustard
small can of chinese straw mushrooms, drained
chicken broth
ramen-style noodles (if desired)
wash the chard and chop or tear leaves into strips. chop the garlic and heat it in a small amount of oil in a large saute pan. add the chard and soy sauce to taste; heat until leaves are wilted. add straw mushrooms and a small spoonful of mustard to taste. when cooked to your liking, add mixture to a plain chicken or vegetable broth already simmering on the stove. add cooked ramen or bean thread noodles; thicken stock with small spoonful of cornstarch if desired. serve hot. try to make do with the fact that your boyfriend has been working very late nights all week and you are tired of the quiet (and the cats are tired of you) and try to eat your soup in a dignified fashion, even though nobody's looking and you're pretty damn hungry. make elaborate plans to clean the house. don't. read your new book and stop to think about the passage on page 34 about periphescence. periphescence denotes the initial drugged and happy bedtime where you sniff your lover like a scented poppy for hours running. wish your boyfriend's shoulder was here right now so you could bite it, just a little. mine, right there. listen to the piano music floating through the walls, from somewhere in the house---the basement?---and completely neglect the cold and congealing pan of lovely soup on the stove. you'll make more.