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1 hour ago, paintybeard said:

Good to see you back Dr.B

 

For some reason or other, I have time on my hands lately.
 

22 minutes ago, redambrosia said:

And here I though teenaged boys were made of sterner (more hungry) stuff :lol:


Ehh. If I was REALLY hungry, I'd break out the Presto Hot Dogger and cook up three or five hot dogs, wrapped in slices of Wonder bread with a dose of mustard each. But a can of soup was a nice midafternoon tea thing to hold me until supper. And I could EAT a can and a half... it was just more than I liked. And it burned my biscuits, having to hand over half a perfectly good serving to a smirking nine year old who didn't really want it anyway.

Weirdly enough, decades later, I had a similar experience with ketchup. They started making green ketchup, right? And my daughter absolutely fell in love with the stuff. I liked it well enough. My ex refused to touch it.

So later, they came out with PURPLE ketchup. My daughter loved it. My ex refused to touch it. And I tried it, and found that it tasted like paint.

We later tried a blind taste test between red, purple, and green ketchups. We discovered that if you couldn't see what you were eating, there was no difference whatsoever in the flavor. But if I could see the purple, I could taste the purple.

But for some reason, the red and the green tasted the same to me.

So... that's a thing I know now. And I guess it explains why the smell of perfectly good Campbell's chicken soup made the whole press box sick....

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36 minutes ago, Dr.Bedlam said:

Ehh. If I was REALLY hungry, I'd break out the Presto Hot Dogger and cook up three or five hot dogs, wrapped in slices of Wonder bread with a dose of mustard each. But a can of soup was a nice midafternoon tea thing to hold me until supper. And I could EAT a can and a half... it was just more than I liked. And it burned my biscuits, having to hand over half a perfectly good serving to a smirking nine year old who didn't really want it anyway.

Oh, I was referring to the boys in the press stand with you. :lol: Teenaged boys are (reportedly) less squeamish and more willing to eat well nigh anything :lol:

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4 hours ago, Dr.Bedlam said:

1.
A recipe:
1 can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup (the kind without Disney characters on the label)
1/2 can of water (they tell you to use a whole can. Don’t believe them. Dilutes the flavor)
4-5 drops green liquid food coloring, brand unimportant; I used McCormick’s, back in the day
5-8 pulverized Saltine crackers, to taste; add crackers one or two at a time until the desired texture is achieved

Add all ingredients to a small saucepan and heat until hot. Alternatively, add all ingredients to a microwave safe bowl and put a paper towel on top, then heat in the microwave until hot.

Stir and serve.
Upon reading this, you might well think, “Doc, what were you thinking? Your food is disgusting, a greeny-yellow pulpy semiliquid mess with little yellow wormlike noodles oozing in and out of it! What possessed you to ruin a perfectly good bowl of soup?”

And therein hangs the tale.

2.
One day, I was maybe twelve, I was hungry, and I heated up a can of soup. Yeah, big news, right?

Little did I know that this would herald the beginning of the Soup Wars.

I didn’t MIND making hot meals for myself and my sister. Problem is, sibling rivalry and attendant meanness meant that she’d WEAPONIZE it. My little sister wasn’t a terribly mean child, certainly no worse than anyone else’s. And I could certainly be no prize myself. But one day, she found a lever of power, and like many, she couldn’t resist yanking it until it broke off in her hand.

One day, I was heating up a can of soup. She smelled it, walked in, and said, “I want some soup.”

“Fine,” I said. “Get a bowl, and you can have this soup.”

“No,” she said. “I only want half that soup.”

“”Tough,” I said. “I want a whole can. You can have this soup, and I’ll make another can.”

“No,” she said. “I only want half a can. You can have the other half.”

“But I want a whole can,” I said. “You get a whole can, or nothing.”

“MAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” she screamed.

Share the soup with your sister!” came the cry from the other end of the house.

And she smirked at me.

And from that day onward, a gleeful pattern emerged: when the smell of soup was smelled, she would come running in and demand half of it. I could have have a can, or a can and a half, and I could just live with it! Either that, or no soup for you, Charlie.

And that irritated me. A can and a half was more soup than I wanted, and it irritated me even further that she’d make a point of coming in and demanding her tribute when I knew dratted good and well she wasn’t hungry, she was just doing it to nettle me.

Durnit.

And this went on for a bit... until an idea occurred. One day, I opened a can of soup, dumped it in the pan, added the water, and then pulverized some crackers into it as it heated... and then hunted around for the food coloring, fished out the green, and added enough to give it a proper neon-swamp-water look.

The soup heated. The chicken aroma swelled and spread. And the sister came stomping in to demand her cut. And I sweetly and obediently dished her up half the pan.

The look on her face was pure satisfaction. To me, that is. She, naturally, was horrified. “What in ghod’s name is THIS?”

“Your snack,” I snickered. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

“I’m not eating THIS!”

“Suit yourself. More for me.”

And that day, I had a whole can of soup to myself, seasoned with savory victory. With ill grace, she heated up a hot dog in the Presto Hot Dogger, and left me to my swampy feast.

She came running a few times after that at the smell of soup, but soon learned that my new recipe was a continuing thing, and ceased after that to bug me for soup. I’d gotten into the habit of seasoning with food coloring, and routinely added it without even thinking. Self defense, you know?

Which led to the incident of the football game.

3.
I worked for the local paper in my teen years, and was sometimes assigned to cover the high school football games. I didn’t mind. My press credentials got me into the press box at the top of the stands, and we’d all sit there with our coffee and cocoa and hip flasks of volatile liquid ... and hot soup in a thermos... and watch the game, take notes, pictures, and so on.

And at halftime, I felt a tad hungry. Cracked open the thermos, reversed the lid into a cup, and poured myself a cup of hot chicken soup, with crackers already crushed into it. I needed a spoon to eat it; it was a tad bit lumpy.

First one to notice was the photographer. His eyes bugged a bit, but he said nothing.


The spotter saw him staring at me, and his face twisted in horror as I spooned green slimy wiggly stuff into my mouth. The spotter leaned over and tapped the PTO guy on the shoulder, and he leaned over for a look, and his eyes did a Roger Rabbit as well.

I stoically ate my soup. It tasted fine to me. And the whole point of green soup was not CARING what other people thought, right? I should point out I was all of fourteen years old at the time, and I knew perfectly well what I was eating.

It never occurred to me that the smell of chicken soup might be misinterpreted by those who didn’t know what it WAS...and only saw a cup of lumpy green wormy goo...

Didn’t think anything of it until the announcer happened to glance over in mid announcement... with a hot mike. Did I mention that the announcer was one of those who had a flask of volatile liquid, rather than coffee?

“And now, for your halftime enjoyment, the Wildcat Band will WHAT IN &@!#$’S NAME IS THAT $#%@?”

Things sort of went downhill after that. It was a while before I was allowed to cover another football game of a Friday night.

My sister STILL won’t let me forget about that....

Grump has a story about lambs tongue sandwiches. :lol:

 

I never had siblings, only cousins, so have no such tales to tell. ::P:

Edited by PaganMegan
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35 minutes ago, PaganMegan said:

Grump has a story about lambs tongue sandwiches. :lol:

 

I never had siblings, only cousins, so have no such tales to tell. ::P:

 

Mmmm, pressed lambs tongues. That's something to look forward to in a few more months.

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For some reason, I have very few funny stories about food. Although Berni remarks that nearly every fight we have had as a couple has been about chicken, for some reason.

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1 hour ago, Gadgetman! said:

 

I am not certain it qualifies as a "recipe" so much as a "weird way to prepare canned soup."

Recipes are about making people WANT to eat the food. Mine was a way to keep people OUT of it!

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3 hours ago, Dr.Bedlam said:

 

I am not certain it qualifies as a "recipe" so much as a "weird way to prepare canned soup."

Recipes are about making people WANT to eat the food. Mine was a way to keep people OUT of it!

I used to do theater - which I used when I was running a Changeling LARP.

 

I put some ricotta cheese in a carton of milk, and glued it back shut - when my Sluagh NPC opened the carton and poured 'milk' into his tea with curdled lumps... totally worth it. ::D:

 

The Auld Grump - he had an Echos flaw... so a lot of creepy superstitions were true with him.

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It brings to mind a couple of years ago when Campbell's tried to change their Chicken and Stars recipe.

I seldom eat chicken and stars. For that matter I seldom eat canned soup. But when I was very small, the ritual at my house was that when I was sick, my mother would prepare Campbell's Chicken & Stars soup and Canada Dry ginger ale over ice. And from the age of four, I was convinced that this stuff did for me what spinach did for Popeye, as far as fighting off whatever was making me feel bad. And the psychology behind it is sufficiently strong that even now, fifty years later, when I am ill, I tend to want Chicken & Stars soup.

Yeah, laugh it up. MY house, durnit.

And a couple of years ago, I caught a Man Cold, that most crippling of pernicious illnesses, and on the way home from work, I stopped to get a few things, notably Chicken and Stars.

And I found that they'd changed the recipe. Instead of tiny star shaped flecks of pasta, thousands of them per can, the soup now contained these massive, ungainly star shaped cookie cutter things, the size of my pinky fingernail, and far too few of them. And while it still contained occasional asteroids of carrot, it seemed to contain NO chunks of chicken. 

I bought a couple of cans anyway. And when I heated one up, I was bitterly disappointed. It did not taste like chicken broth, instead having an odd coppery flavor. The gigantic stars were the wrong consistency. There was no actual chicken, except perhaps in the broth, which tasted completely wrong. And I raged that another monolithic corporation had erased another chunk of my childhood for the sake of saving a few cents per can. I gave the remaining soup to a food drive at work, and got on with my life.

Six months later, Berni asked me to get some French Onion for a recipe. I did so... and noted that the store brand had changed their label to show that THEY still had the little tiny star flecks of pasta and little chunks of chicken.

I also noticed that Campbell's had changed THEIR label to add the rather panicky sounding legend ORIGINAL RECIPE IS BACK!

I bought a can of each. Tried them when I got home. They were fairly close to identical... that is to say, both of them would have been perfectly acceptable to a snuffly five year old Bedlam.

I'm guessing that Campbell's had a New Coke moment ... or perhaps a Fourth Edition epiphany.... and moved to limit the damage as fast as possible. Perhaps I am not the only fully growed adult with a thing for Chicken & Stars....

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You're not alone. When us kiddos were sick, my mom always did canned Campbell's chicken noodle soup, the kind that has yellow blobs floating on the surface until you heat it up. Oh, and if it was a tummy issue, you also got Sprite, in the squiggly straw cup because it was easier to drink from in bed. 

 

Not sure the soup really had much in the way of nutrition, given that it's literally just broth, limp noodles and slightly rubbery chicken bits, but darned if I didn't think it was a magic cure-all. I still occasionally indulge myself for the nostalgia, but generally prefer Progresso now since it also has veggies (plus the cans are waaay bigger lol). 

 

Huzzah! 

--OneBoot :D 

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The placebo effect is a real thing,  plus chicken broth had been found to help in some scientific studies.   Having warm soup when you are not feeling well is a morale booster as well, so yes, chicken soup for the win!

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