The Green Eyed Monster Soup

I've been thinking a lot about envy lately. My skin has been crawling with it. I'm not talking about the sidelong glance you give you barista's cute haircut while you think "God. I could never pull that off. No cheeks.. Unruly eyebrows.." I'm not dealing with Cosmo-induced social comparison envy. I'm unpacking my creativity envy. It's a big piece of baggage. The kind you put on the special belt at the airport.

You see, I surround myself with people who ooze creativity. They write and paint and think and live with a voice. The type of voice you can pick out of a crowd (make that a mob... an angry mob). You see them and you know they have colorful souls. Their vibrancy brightens up my everyday. The problem? Sometimes their color makes me feel dull. Overcast with a chance of gray. I'm not the 'writer' or the 'artist' or the 'musician'. I'm the one who likes to read, but struggles to write. The one who likes classic rock, but can barely play the first few notes of "Stand By Me" on my guitar. The one who ___, but ___. Promising, but unbearably plain. Like hospital cafeteria soup. It smells lovely, but as soon as glides over your tongue the wonderful smell is deadened by a flavor of tap water and canned carrots.

I walked around all last week feeling like a big batch of watery soup. While wallowing in my soupy self-pity, I made soup (go figure). But this soup wasn't dull. It was spicy. It was creamy. It had a voice. Could it have been my voice bubbling up through the quiet undertone of cayenne and crisp note of lemon?

You will have to make this soup for yourself and listen for my voice. I hope you can hear it.

This soup recipe will make other soups envious. The once mighty tomato cheddar’s creamy attitude will quiver. The smug chicken noodle will shed extra salty tears. But this soup won’t brag about its beauty. It’s far too humble to boast. Instead, it will give Tomato Cheddar a hug and tell them they are lovely just the way they are. It will wink at Chicken Noodle, and maybe even bake them some chocolate chip cookies.

This soup really is a sweetie. It is very simple, and easy to adapt to your pantry (or, if you are a college student like me, your makeshift food shelf made out of particle board). The ingredient list isn't miles long. You won’t end up halfway through cooking this soup, just to realize you don’t have the jewel-encrusted peppercorns and ancient plum paste to finish it off. The ingredients can change with the seasons--both Mother Earth's and your own. Feeling particularly carnivorous today? Throw some ham into the mix! A vegan afternoon? Forget the milk!

You can serve this any way you please. This soup isn't picky. It wants you to relax and enjoy your meal. It won’t judge you for licking that splatter of soup off your forearm. It will make you breathe deeply and be thankful for your taste buds.

Spicy broccoli and spinach soup

Adapted from Joy the Baker

[Will serve about 2 people a heapin’ helpin’]

A splash of olive oil

½ of an onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped/mashed/or otherwise squished

Bunch-a broccoli cut into small florets (about 2 cups)

1 tsp cumin

¼ tsp cayenne (if you’re especially fiery today, feel free to ratchet up this measurement)

1 ½ cups of your favorite stock, or water

1 ½ - 2 cups spinach (or arugala, or kale, or even that bag of organic spring mix sitting at the bottom of your crisper…)

1/3 cup milk (I used 2%)

Fresh squeeze of lemon

Salt n’ pepper to taste

Sauté the onion over medium heat until translucent (I happened to get some turnips and snap peas in my CSA box this week, so I threw them in the pan at this step). Add the garlic, and swirl the contents of the pan around for about 2 minutes, or until fragrant. Toss in the broccoli and cook until it is a bright beautiful green, about 5-7 minutes.

Season with cumin and cayenne (or whatever spices you please) and add broth to the pan. Cover and reduce heat. Simmer until broccoli is tender and irresistible. Kill the burner.

Here is the fun part—we are going to blend this soup into submission. Add about half of the soup to a blender. Throw in about half of the spinach half of the milk. Blend until smooth. Repeat with remaining soup, spinach and milk.

Throw the soup back over low heat, and if you think it needs more spice lovin', go for it. Squeeze some fresh lemon juice over the pot just before serving (and if you're me, fish out the seeds that squirted into the pot).

Serve as is, or with a dollop of sour cream.

Contentedly gobble your green soup.