You know what I love about French Onion Soup?
It forces you sit down for half an hour, relax, and simply enjoy your meal.
Anyone can wolf down a slice of pizza in two minutes, scarf a burger in five, inhale a panini in seven, or devour a salad in ten. But if you’ve ever had a bowl of French onion soup, piping hot from beneath the broiler, bread soggy, cheese bubbling, broth hissing, and steam rising, you know that unless you possess super powers and an awesome resistance to burning the crap out of the roof of your mouth, you have to take it slow. You have to blow on each and every spoonful then sip cautiously, taking in the aroma and savoring the complex flavors of the onions, beef broth, wine, worcestershire sauce, french bread, and provolone as they blend together to form that sweet, buttery flavor.
I didn’t used to like French onion soup. I distinctly remembering groaning when I’d learn it was front and center on the dinner menu. I think it’s an acquired taste. And I’m still not in the mood for it all the time, but the two or three times a year that I do have a taste for it, I find that I enjoy it tremendously, and not just for the taste alone (although sometime after college I did, thankfully, acquire the taste for it. But don’t hold your breath on the blue cheese or brussel sprouts, mom and dad!)
I know I can just sit at the table and breathe, and eat slowly, and talk, and sip wine, and laugh between bites while I wait for it to cool. I know there’s nothing else I really can be doing but enjoying good food or the pleasure of good company while I blow on the broth or scrape melted cheese off the spoon with my teeth.
I am thankful to have taken the hour and a half break to cook up and eat a small batch of this soup tonight. I may have a lot going on and life gets busy, but that’s no excuse to not savor a tasty meal. And I’m grateful to be reminded of that every once in a while.
