Showing posts with label bachelors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bachelors. Show all posts

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Father's Day Corn Soup

In honor of my dad, who passed away five years ago, I'm posting his most notable contribution to my family's culinary library: Corn Soup. Not chowder, ya'll, it's simply soup. My dad was a funny one when it came to cooking; he wasn't afraid to try something new, or to be "wrong", and he never allowed other people's opinions to affect his own. I was embarrassed by this as a kid, but now I only hope I inherited some of those genes from him.

This recipe, by any organic and farm-to-table standards, is eight different kinds of wrong, but we used to ask for this all the time as kids. By the time I was 10 or so, I could make this on my own. It was one of the first recipes I ever "mastered".

I've kept this recipe tucked away quietly in my head, and don't make it often, but I still get a hankerin' for my dad's Corn Soup every now and then, and I sometimes find myself absentmindedly perusing the red and white cans in the canned soup aisles.



Here's to sharing weirdly delicious recipes with the world. Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Corn Soup a la Heinz

1 can Campbell's condensed cream of chicken soup
1 can creamed corn (regular corn works too)
1 handful chopped celery leaves (from the leafy tops of the celery stalks)
1 egg, beaten
pinch ground white pepper

Add cream of chicken soup to a medium-sized pot. Cook over medium heat until soup starts to sizzle (yes, sizzle. Dunno why, it's just what Dad did and that's the way I do it). Add a soup-can full of water and corn to the pot, using a fork if needed to break up condensed soup. Cook until corn and soup are heated through. Add celery leaves and whisk in beaten egg with a fork. Season with white pepper.

Sometimes I'll add some dried fresh tagliatelle in broken pieces to make a noodle soup, but only when I'm feeling frisky. This could also possibly be the perfect bachelor recipe, but the celery leaves might be a bit of a stretch for the average bachelor.