This morning I am faced with a hazardous waste problem. It was a cool and drizzly 60 degrees yesterday, a steep plummet from Sunday’s scorching 100 degree heat, so I made pumpkin soup. The recipe in Cuisine at Home looked and sounded delicious.
I’m not an excellent cook by any means, but it’s rare that I concoct something absolutely inedible. I managed to do that yesterday. Was it because I bought store-brand pumpkin instead of the pricier brand, or did substituting plain paprika for the smoked variety called for in the recipe doom the soup? Dingman claims the onion must have been rotten, and that must have accounted for the bizarre, sour taste of the potage.
He bravely ate a cup of it; I stopped after a few mouthfuls. The batch of soup is large. I won’t horrify you with a picture of its unfortunate color. Here is what it was supposed to be. Let’s just say I didn’t even come close.
This morning the dreadful pot of it is still sitting on the stove, so I mused aloud about how I was going to get rid of it. It’s too much to try to run down the garbage disposal, so I speculated about the practicality of flushing it (sorry).
“I’ll bury it,” David announces.
I protested at first, but decided that will be a good solution. Sometimes it’s best to inter your mistakes.