bluefacedpixie

Soup.

I like soup. For me it’s what Americans call a comfort food. I also like bananas and pizza, but that’s not relevant.

I’d just had a disturbed night’s sleep on a transatlantic flight and although it should be breakfast (or still 4 a.m., or 2 p.m. local-time) and I was in travel-fogue I decided I needed a nice bowl of soup. I wasn’t really picky, it could be nice to be warm tomato, or cream of chicken ideally. But lentil or chili would have done. In fact, it doesn’t even need to be nice, but it has to be soup.

However, I couldn’t find it. Not in the business lounge, not at the first restaurant (sandwiches only), nor the next (gazpacho, from a nice blonde boy wearing a pink shirt – all the blonde boys were wearing pink shirts – obviously a trendy airport stop), nor the next (sandwiches only). The fancy seafood place – does it have chowder? No! The next stop – no (beer or sandwiches… mmm, maybe beer). Finally there was 20 minutes to my delayed flight and I had to cave: cold tomato (but not called gazpacho) soup at a place called EyeCon. Tasted good (the beer helped). Not really soup, but enough of a bolster to keep me moving.

I would like to publicly record though: cold soup isn’t really soup – soup should be warm, otherwise it’s just cold sauce. Ok? And where’s the comfort in cold sauce?