It is still, sadly, too hot these days to want to cook. The humans have been investigating the fascinating world of cold soups. They’ve tried a Persian one that involves buttermilk, yogurt, cucumbers, dill, and pistachios. It was pretty good, though I’d like to point out that, with that much dairy involved, they are dangerously skirting “milkshake for dinner” territory.
Today the human female is trying a new recipe, about which there is no little excitement in this house. First, a little backstory. Some years ago, the humans often enjoyed a particular soup mix, a Cream of Snowpea flavor from that brand with the Viking ship on it. It made a very delicious chilled soup–perfect for those days with temperatures nudging triple digits. I couldn’t allow that to continue, of course, so I arranged for the soup to become unavailable. Not just no-longer-carried-by-the-store. No. It it’s in the you-liked-it-so-we-stopped-making-it category. (I just love doing that.)
Imagine her delight, then, when the human female found a Cream of Snow Pea soup recipe! Ingredients were purchased in short order, and we are ready to launch the attempt.
Why a hyena is interested in a vegetable-based dish I have no idea. I’ve given up trying to understand what goes on in that animal’s brain.
Check! Soooo many snowpeas! Now, I know that the recipe doesn’t stipulate one way or the other, but the humans are firm believers in stringing the snowpeas, so we’re going to do that. Otherwise, we’ll end up with long stringy bits in the soup.
I like ripping things up, so I’ve volunteered–and notice I have willing helpers! It’s not hard work, just a bit time-consuming. The strings just zip right off.
We’re batch-and-a-halfing the recipe, since one bag of snowpeas was too little and two is too many.
Sigyn says that if you hold them up to the light they’re like “little stained glass windows.”
I love that girl.
Six cups is a LOT of snowpeas! We need just a few more.
Fisi! Drop it! BAD hyena! Give that last one here, right now!
Sleipnir’s fetlocks! There are hyena teethmarks on it. No one wants to eat that! Fisi, you are banished to the compost bowl!
Buuuuut since the snowpeas are going to be cooked, I suppose we can get away with it. We just won’t tell anyone.
The snow peas get cooked in some water.
and a little bit of chicken broth.
It doesn’t look like much yet, but I have hopes.
Now we add some frozen peas.
Small, green, and icy. I can relate.
Here’s where the cream goes in.
Sigyn, are you hugging that carton? We only need three tablespoons. How about if we use what’s left to make some ice cream later? Will you let go now?
When the peas are done,
everything goes into the blender, a little at a time.
Dibs on pushing the buttons! I’m very good at destruction.
Great Frigga’s Hairpins! It’s going to be close! The volume of the blender carafe matches almost exactly the volume we’ve got of stuff that needs blending. Ehehehe! The human female is so stupid! She’s holding the top of the blender on with a towel, and there’s still soup dribbling out from under the lid. It never occurred to her to do this step in batches. I don’t know who’s going to clean this all up. I just know it won’t be ME.
The recipe says we’re supposed to put the resulting…slop is really the only word for it–through a fine sieve.
This step looks like it is going to take half an hour, at least, and leave a good quantity of pea pulp in the strainer Maybe we didn’t blend it enough? Despite my words of advice to the contrary, the human female has elected to skip this step. Now, the soup just has to chill until dinnertime.
(later) Behold, the finished collation!
We are going to enjoy it with some sesame seed bread from a bakery in the Big City to the South. It’s been in the freezer since forever, and the human female thinks it will be a good go-with.
Sip. Hmm. It certainly tastes of pea. Just plain old green pea, and not much else. The snowpeas are utterly lost, and so is the cream. We could have spared the expense of both. Bleargh! What’s this? Oh. A little stringy bit that didn’t get blended or sieved. Yuck! There’s another. See? That’s what you get for being lazy.
(A bit later) The addition of some salt and pepper and some bacon crumbles have improved this disappointing dish immensely. It’s cold, it’s green, it’s filling, and the bread is good.
I shall be surprised, however, if it graces the table again.