I know, I know… Me too! It’s coooold!
I’ m in bed all day with two boxes of handkerchiefs , nose dripping and morale low low low , friends are out , family has forgotten me, it’s doomsday! So, refusing the news on tv, I have opened up all these glossy cookbooks and stained recipe notebooks and look for -what else?- hot soup recipes.
My favorite is pumpkin soup for this season. I buy it at the farmer’s market and because I am an early bird there with only few customers around , I ask mr. Pumpkin to peel it with his good knife. Then , at home , it’s ready to wash , cut and cook it.
The recipe for a good pumpkin soup is not a twominutesangie thing but the croutons that go with it qualify for this blog. They are the little tasty sins , the added calories, the crunchy partners in crime for the gluten opponents, the golden exception for the dieting clan. And they are lovely. And comforting, like watching “When Harry met -bring me what she’s having- Sallie”…
May I suggest this? Just for tonight, just for the sake of this cold night, when you didn’t have yet time to bring down the winter clothes, buy a new winter pair of fur slippers, forgot to collect wood for the fireplace or just feel nobody loves you , just for tonight make these croutons and save the diet for tomorow?
Baby, it’s cold outside and it feels pretty chilly on the inside too?
Come on, excuses are a sobbing soul’s best friend!
TWO MINUTES ANGIE EXCEPTION CROUTONS
Use a good white sourdough bread. Cut in thick slices and pinch small bread bits (not the crust) tearing them away from the bread.
Sprinkle bread bits with olive oil and with finely chopped fresh coriander or parsley, sweet or hot paprika, salt and pepper.
Place bread bits on baking tray fluffing up the bread that is stuck together.
Heat well a teflon pan , then lower heat in half and put in the toast bids, fluffing up with two wooden spoons constantly to avoid burning them until you have the desired color, a deep golden color.
Sprinkle on hot pumpkin soup and enjoy the coming of winter reading Nina Zolotow’s -what other more suitable poem?- “Winter”.
(I’ll meet you in cozyland babies! X)