Split Pea Soup!........ A Thing of Beauty and Deliciousness... Until...

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:        Split Pea Soup!........  

                    A Thing of Beauty and Deliciousness...  Until...  

In the glorious and wondrous age of GeezerHood, sometimes one's mind wanders, travels to distant galaxies, where thoughts and recollections live, like distant stars, 
occasionally appearing with greater illumination as the earth spins and, itself, wanders along, following a prescribed pathway through the endless vacuum of space.

In those cerebral wanderings, at times, inexplicably, brilliant thoughts collect like plundered treasure secreted in a gunny sack, as if gathered unconsciously by someone claiming the disorder of kleptomania.   

I should elucidate...   make the specific point for which I appear to be reaching.  My dear mother, now long gone from the mortal sphere, was, by her own admission, to herself and anyone who'd care to listen, an awful cook.  She didn't care.  My mother was a wonderful artist, creating beautiful  paintings, sculpture, ceramics and other art pieces using a variety of media.  That was her joie de vivre.  Not cooking.  She even set a gorgeous table, though the food laid upon it was not particularly palatable, unless prepared by a caterer. 

There was, however, a notable exception.  Split pea soup.  In her "fabled" pressure cooker, the old-fashioned sort with the rocket launcher at its top, that thing that at times exploded skyward, aiming with extraordinary velocity for the stratosphere, but merely landing and poking significant holes in the kitchen ceiling, she boiled smoked butt, cabbage, carrots and peeled potatoes.  

From the leavings of that concoction, the juices, the leftover pieces of cooked meat and vegetable matter, my mother made her marvelous split pea soup.  It was always thick and rich and suffused with particulates, chunky pieces of smoked butt, bits of cabbage, carrot and potato.  I longed for that spectacular culinary delight, one of the very few things my mother did unfailingly well in her meager repertoire of actually palatable edibles.  

I would sit at the kitchen table, knife and fork poised skyward as if I were a fat royal, bib tied under chin, dribbling profusely, entitled to a lavish feast.  The bowl would appear, its savory particulates floating proudly in the rich and beautifully pea-green liquid.  Aaaah....  wonderful!  "Mudder dear, where are the crackers?"

And then one day, while seated expectantly at my side of the pale yellow, formica-topped kitchen table, the split pea soup in its commodious bowl appeared in front of me.  I was already drooling in rapt anticipation.  "Hey," I began, "where are the chunks?  Where

are the usual floating particulates?  What happened here??!!  What's gone wrong??!!..."  

Smiling angelically, my mother began to respond.  "Oh, JoJo honey dear, your brother, Kris, doesn't like chunky pea soup.  He insisted that I puree the soup in our blender.  You know, to liquify the chunky matter.  Your brother doesn't care for lumps in his soup."

"What?" I exploded in rage and disbelief, like the rocket launcher at the top of the pressure cooker!  "How could that happen?  How could he, Kris, usurp the quality, the condition and the texture of my beloved split pea soup?  How could you let him do that?"  I was livid, enraged!  

"Well," my dear mother elucidated, "If I don't puree the pea soup, he won't eat it, and then he won't achieve any nutritional value from his meal.  Your brother doesn't care for lumpy soup.  I have to de-lump it in the blender."

"Well why can't you just make him eat salty broth and a raw carrot or something.  Give him some mushed potatoes or some other slop he doesn't have to chew!  How can you

give him the right to destroy my favorite soup?" And then I muttered, "No chunks, no particulates.  It's an outrage."  And then I further muttered, sotto voce, "Makes a person wonder who Mom really liked best!...  blended pea soup mush...  insanity has permeated our dinner table and ravaged our once peaceful lives!" 

It wasn't until many years had passed that I was able once again to enjoy split pea soup the way nature intended it be presented, with wonderful chunks and particulates swimming happily in the stew.  My sweet wife and life partner, SweetHeart, made the best split pea soup, with attendant big chunks and particulates, all doing delightful back strokes and dips and flips in my beloved pea soup.  Once again, the earth was on its proper course, happily plowing through the ether with big smiles and toothy grins on its continents and in its oceans.  Joy had returned to my once vapid visage!!  

********************************************************************  

As I reflect back in time, I shoulda hidden that darn blender, now I come to think on it, and realize there may have been a perfect solution.  Ach...  Who'my kiddin' the big brother would have found it and maybe hit me in the head with it before replacing the evil, rotten instrument back on the kitchen counter!  

Humbly Submitted 12-20-2022....  Joel K.