See Your Soup Before You Buy It
I like to keep soup on hand. Preferably, homemade and tucked away in the freezer. But I also keep a few canned soups in the cabinet for those times when I’m feeling a bit peckish and in need of a quick picker-upper.
When I was in Straubs recently I ran onto a new soup—at least, new to me. Rao is now making a line of soups in glass jars. You can see the colorful vegetables floating around in the broth. No can opener needed.
A Long, Careful Reach
On my tippy toes, I reached for the Minestrone that was on the top shelf. This took a bit of doing. Once upon a time, I was 5′ 5 l/2″ tall. But overtime I’ve condensed to 5′ 3 1/2″. I miss those two inches at times such as these. I reached up carefully, hugging the jar to my bosom as I transferred it to the grocery cart. I was tempted to get another variety, but decided to leave well enough along.
I checked out with equal caution. I recall having once spilled a packet of fresh blueberries. There were hundreds of those little blue orbs. When they hit the floor, they spread faster than the Coronavirus.
As I placed the jar carefully on the conveyor belt, I turned on my best imitation of Hyacinth Bucket and said, “Do be careful with my Rao’s Made-for-Home Italian-Style Vegetable Minestrone.” (Which I said without taking a breath.) He looked at me the way the postman looked at Hyacinth when she asked why she hadn’t received an invitation to the Queen’s garden party. Even so, the clerk gently placed the jar in a paper bag to itself.
Being Ever So Careful
I carefully placed my bags in the back of the car and once in the garage, I loaded everything into the grocery cart that serves the condo. So far so good. Upon reaching the kitchen, my Rao’s Made-for-Home Italian-Style Vegetable Minestrone was the first item I unpacked. I placed it gently in the cabinet. But the glass-jarred soup looked so out of place alongside all those canned goods. So I decided to have it for lunch.
Once the soup was separated from its jar, I felt a sigh of relief. After it warmed nicely, I transferred the soup into a bowl and sat down to enjoy. It really looked like homemade minestrone—much like what I make from scratch. Even the taste reminded me of my recipe. Ah, what a great discovery! Buoyed by my success, I determined to try the other varieties as well. I congratulated myself for such a great find and my care in getting the first jar home intact.
About that time my iPhone rang. I jumped up to answer and when I did. . . . well, you know what happened. My soup and floor met a grim fate. Or as La Fontaine once said, “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.”