When is the last time you had an encounter with alphabet soup? Remember alphabet soup? Or did you prefer Alpha-bits (the cereal) as a kid?
For some (inexplicable) reason, a few days back, I thought of alphabet soup. It wasn’t about the taste of the soup, which I think was tomato, but rather the fact that it was F-U-N watching the letters scoot around in the bowl. And of course, then came the challenge of catching the ones you wanted with the tip of your spoon, and poking them around to form CAT or DOG or POT or some other three-letter word before you gobbled them up and started again.
Naturally, my morning musing mind meandered to other sources of spelling sensations… (insufficient caffeine drip again?) like magnet letters on the fridge, magnet words on the fridge, and Scrabble letters in any variation.
Dare I confess that for years I used ice cube trays that made letter-shaped ice? (I think one of my sons guilted me into tossing those trays when I moved, but they were SO MUCH FUN.)
For those of us who are ardent lovers of language, perhaps these eccentricities are unavoidable. Recently, I was chatting with an old friend on the phone about a handful of books I love, and that she loves — Shipping News, Tropic of Cancer, her love of Proust (though I can’t get through it)… and both of us were reveling in the sheer delight of discussing divergent examples of language music, in other words, surprising and sonorous construction that pushes the envelope and consequently, leaves the reader more than a little thrilled.
Perhaps that conversation is part of my preoccupation with this silly soupy staple, followed by another recollection: my mother’s habit of writing a new vocabulary word with a full-blown dictionary definition on the small brown paper bag she used to pack my school lunches. Not only would she provide the definition, but skilled artistically, if an illustration were required, she would sketch a quick likeness to accompany the explanation.
Five days a week, there was a new word to learn. How cool is that?
I cannot say that I raised my kiddos on alphabet soup, much less scholastically-oriented weekday lunch bags, but we did play Scrabble often enough for them to enjoy and appreciate the value of language — not just in an educational context, but as a useful tool and a source of pleasure.
Now, about that soup.
As winter persists, I find myself in a soup-making mood, and in search of something nostalgic (and cozy). Thus, my web wandering which led me to this healthy alphabet soup recipe from Genius Kitchen, though I’m not really a fan of white beans. Or, I might try My Recipe’s tomato alphabet soup, which more closely resembles what I recall from my childhood.
And, it goes without saying, that a good soup requires a great shoe! Is there anything more elegant than a classic Manolo Blahnik BB Pump in red, like this at Nordstrom? Can you spell F-A-B?
Speaking of FAB, any irresistible childhood recipes to share? Reminiscences of prepubescent palate-pleasers?
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