Spinach Gorgonzola Soup

I attempted to get to go to work today...

I then very quickly decided I didn't have a death wish.

So what does one do on a snow day with a toddler?

Make soup with said toddler...

After popping Lukas into the ergo I decided to recreate my favorite soup from one of my favorite local haunts. Hammontree's has the BEST spinach gorgonzola soup... So good I made it a point to recreate the recipe at home. Here goes...

 

To start you need:

1/2 medium onion (rough chop)

2 c. chicken stock/ bone broth

1 c. heavy cream

1/4 c. flour

5 oz. gorgonzola

2 c. milk

1 tbsp. sea salt/ kosher salt

4 c. uncooked spinach

Sauté onions on medium heat in olive oil. After the onions have cooked down, add the chicken stock to the pot. Once the stock has heated up, stir in the heavy cream. Once the cream has heated gradually whisk in the flour until smooth. Gradually whisk in the gorgonzola until the base becomes thick and creamy. Stir in the milk, and salt. Allow the base to heat, and stir frequently. Once the base has heated stir in the spinach before serving, allowing the spinach to wilt in the soup. Serve with a side of toast.

I think we have a winner...

Baking bread, and breaking bread

There is something in my need to bake bread.

Something ancient.

Something primitive.

Something beautiful.

"Get a bread maker," I've been told. "It will make things so much easier."

While I'm sure it would, I won't.

Something about combining six simple ingredients binds me to something bigger than myself. Something about the sweat on my brow as I knead the dough connects me to the hundreds of thousands of woman who came before me. 

As I labor over my bread, I am connected to them. I am one with them. We are the same, she and I. As we labor over bread that will sustain our families we are one. 

Six simple ingredients that I am so fortunate to have, connects me to thousands. And after the bread has been baked, it connects me to the ones I hold most dear. The bread that I bake, brings us to the table becoming the bread we will break.

As we sit and eat, our bellies are full. Our lives are full. Our hearts are full.