Day 118: Big Soup

A fridge inventory reveals a tomato mountain.  A total of SEVEN different lots; most started, some intact.  I'm impressed by the range.  Tiny on-the-vine cherries, economy golf balls and droopy plums.  Not so impressed by the condition...  Many are looking very sad, wrinkly and shrivelled and soft.  Like old balloons.  Unsurprising, given that the use-by dates are all around the late January/early February mark... 

Soup.  A massive vat, stewed with onion, garlic and red lentils, spiked with coriander and cumin.  And razzed in the blender to uniform youthful smoothness.  A triumphant comeback.  I get my greatest culinary satisfaction from resurrection vintage cooking.     

The blender doesn't agree, and a suicide leap from the drying rack means that it won't be making another comeback.  No more razzing. 

The death of the blender and also the death of Davy Jones of The Monkees.  This morning on the news they played the title sequence from the television series - massive amounts of goating about on surf boards, pushing beds around, riding bikes into the sea, dancing around dressed like French Legionnaires.  The classic backdrop to a Saturday morning for any child of the seventies.

'We're the young generation, And we've got something to say'.

Here's Davy at the peak of his youthful smoothness.

From smoothness he came, to smoothness he will return.  Once he's been razzed back into The Soup.  You know.  The Big Soup.