July 10, 2003 8:19 P.M.

Summer Soup

My miniature Doxie, Chloe. She is a �long-hair�, but has her summer trim.

I made some of my �clean out the leftovers and make wonderful� soup, today. I generally do not use recipes unless I am baking cookies or pastries of some sort. I don�t know where I learned how to cook. My mom did as little cooking as she could get by with. But somewhere along the way, I became a really good home style�sort of Southern�cook. I think making pie crust from scratch is, - well - as easy as pie!

The thing I enjoy the most is creating a really good pot of soup. I have a �no-white carbs� vegetable soup that was SO good the first time I tried it, that I did write down the recipe immediately, so that I could repeat it exactly. I call it my *�Wolfgang Puck Eat Your Heart Out� vegetable soup.

But today, it was a corn potato chowder. We had fire roasted ears of corn, small boiled red potatoes, and fresh cooked green beans left over from a weekend cookout.

I crisped two slices of Maple Bacon from COSTCO, added a quarter stick of butter and lightly browned half a chopped onion in a skillet. Then I cut the roasted corn from the ears and diced up the four boiled red potatoes. I placed all this in a medium sauce pan and added a can of evaporated milk (cream would be better), another quarter stick of butter, a small amount of mild cheese, a dollop of sugar, salt and coarse pepper to taste. If I had celery, I would have added a diced stalk of celery. I added milk to provide sufficient liquid. To top it off, I tossed in about one fourth cup of cooked green beans, and stirring together, brought it all to a simmer. At this point, I added just enough instant potato flakes to thicken the broth a little. I think that was it. If you prefer it spicy, you could add your own choice of seasoning. I am not much of a �spicy� person.

I know this is not exactly �soup season�, but save it for a cool, rainy day.

And speaking of cool, rainy days, here is something I wrote a couple of years ago. We recently cleaned off the hard drive of my old computer, and I found this �essay� in My Documents folder. I thought I would share it with you.

I don't find it difficult at all to believe that just before you die your whole life passes in front of your eyes. Especially since I understand that brain surgeons can trigger a memory from any stage in your life just by stimulating brain cells. Frequently, but without any pattern, I have �pictures� that suddenly present themselves in my mind. They are always images from my past, and seem to have no connection with present circumstances, or anything I am engaged in at the moment. They are totally unrelated to what I am doing or thinking. There are no people in these images. They are not memories of any interaction � pleasant or otherwise � between persons. They are mental �photos� of a visual moment in my history. Flashbacks of a place where I have been, often with accompanying sensual enhancement. It is not as though I am actually "seeing" the scene. It is definitely in my mind. But it is so out of the context of the present, that it captures my attention. (I would be concerned about the onset of some dire mental disease, except that this has gone on for years, and if anything � happens less and less.) I had one of these "moments" today. I was busily involved in my work, when�there it was. As though it had been waiting for many years just to pop to the surface and display a moment in time. Past time. Way past time. Let me set the scene. From about 8 years of age until I approached my middle teens, I was the piano student of an elderly, but revered, pianist. She taught piano, while her husband tutored violin students. I don't know if they were professional musicians in the local philharmonic world of our city, but I do know that they were highly respected and held recitals for their students at "Gardencourt", the recital hall of the University of Louisville's School of Music. Even the teacher's name was intimidating. Althea Stevens Parmentier. The lessons took place in what I now realize was the second story parlor and music room, of an early 1900's three story town home. Each week I would enter the oak paneled front landing, climb the creaking stairs to the second floor, knock on the door, and enter a large suite which was graced with two grand pianos. We would then proceed to methodically go over the finger exercises, a Bach piece, and two or three other classics which I was always preparing for the next recital. In a rare moment, Mrs. Parmenter would sit down at the other grand piano, (which I supposed to be the better of the two) and accompany me during a piece, or perhaps display how it should be played. It was always a relief to be finished, and to be descending the long staircase after the lesson, and that was where the mental photo was taken. The image was that of passing through the huge glass multi-paned door with beveled eyebrow lites arched over the top of the door, continuing down both sides of the paneling. As I passed over the threshold and out onto the front stoop, I saw this scene stretched before me. Darkness had settled in. It was obviously winter. It was not so much raining, as just wet and damp from the winter air in that part of the country. The busy street and sidewalks were glistening in the dark with the red and white reflections of head and tail lights from cars lined up at the corner intersection. There were the odors and sounds of traffic on wet pavement, car horns and motor noises filling the air. I must have stood (many times?) and captured the scene with all my senses alerted to sight, sound and smell. This was the image that "was just there" in the midst of my afternoon. Why? I do not know. I also do no not know what to do with it, so I just ponder it. That's what watchers do. (See April 8 entry: �Watcher at the Window�.) They look; they capture; and at some distant point in time�they ponder.

Historic Louisville Homes

*I will email you the recipe upon request.

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