Jumping the gun.

End of Summer Vegetable Soup. Not the best photo ever, but just about as the leftovers were about to go in the fridge.

Sometimes I do things backwards. I couldn't wait for fall to get here, jumping on the apple pie as soon as the Fair Trade Farmstand had apples. Keep in mind, there was still 80 degree heat, and I slaved away in the kitchen wishing for the leaves to change and cider to be widely available. So about a week later, this past Wednesday, I made a soup with some leftover cabbage, potatoes and white beans. 101Cookbooks led me to the recipe, and while a bit bland (Parmesan cheese helped immensely), it seemed the perfect soup to curl up with during an early February snowfall. Rustic Cabbage Soup was all about the staples, though. Onions, white beans, potatoes, and cabbage and vegetable stock cubes (which I was so impressed with--I had never used one before) are all things you can find all year round. I'll have to bookmark this one for later.

For this season, however, I have found a perfect solution. I treated myself to "Everyday Food" (a Martha publication, naturally) yesterday and included was this recipe for End of Summer Vegetable Soup. It elicited two helpings from my RA who stopped by to drop off a bowl from the cookies I made our floor last week, so I suppose it was pretty good.

End of Summer Vegetable Soup

Serves about six, or 4 hungry boys with one helping of leftovers. Would serve more with a crusty bread on the side.

2 Tbs. EVOO
1 medium onion, chopped

2-3 celery stalks

1 clove garlic

2 cans vegetable or chicken broth (I used chicken, but added a vegetable stock cube in with the water)

2 cups water

8 ounces green beans
1 can diced tomatoes

2 zucchini, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced (I used my mandoline slicer...of course)

1 cup and a handful rotelle, or whatever pasta you have on hand

1. Sautee the onion in the bottom of the pan over medium heat, using the EVOO. Season well.

2. Add the garlic, minced, and the celery, chopped well. Let 'em sweat it out for about five minutes.

3. Remove the stem ends from the green beans and cut them into thirds. Slice the zukes.

4. Add the broth, two cups of water, and (though this is not what I did, probably a good idea) the canned tomatoes (I think the extra heat will help break them down). Bring to a boil.

5. Add zukes, green beans, and pasta. Simmer until the pasta is cooked and the vegetables have softened up a little bit.

I hit the mark yesterday too, with a grilled ham and swiss on homemade wheat with mustard and caramelized onions. I'm not going to include a recipe with this because I think y'all are smart enough to figure this out--make bread, slice, caramelize onions with EVOO, pile with ham, swiss, and onions, slather one side of bread with dijon mustard, slather outsides of the bread with margarine, grill over medium heat until golden brown.

I did, in fact, break out the bread machine for this. But I know for a fact WholeFoods has a lot of good options.

I just finished baking up my first batch of banana muffins this year. I am oddly disappointed--they seem a little flat and I think I may have short-changed the flour by half a cup. I've only messed up muffins one other time in my life, but I can't complain.

Fresh out of the oven, these are awful good with vanilla ice cream.

Matt reminded me of this one today, which is ironic and funny (as is the poem):

MAYBE IT WILL BECOME CHIC

I was invited

to an important conference

where many learned men from different countries

were all going to address the topic:

Where is God?

I was wearing my best clothes and had even fasted for a week,

hoping to help sharpen my mind. Just before I was to leave though,

I felt powerfully drawn to a little shrine in my bedroom,

and I went there and knelt to pray.

I could not believe what happened:

Kali threw her arms around me and started tearing at my clothes,

and she started throwing delicious food into my mouth,

purposely missing several times it seems,

thus soiling my pundit attire;

and then she made me perform many times as if I were her

husband; then she said, "Now Kabir, don't be late for that big talk,

and don't change your clothes--I love that love-stained look;

maybe it will become chic?"

I arrived just as it was my turn to stand before this august crowd,

and apologized for my appearance.

"Where is God?" the head of the conference says to me.

"Well (well, I stammered) if you really want to know the truth--if

you hurry--you might catch Her legs still spread

back at my

pad."

Kabir (1440-1518)