When I am sick, my mother always makes me some nice chicken noodle soup. I always will enjoy that. And back on my memories, when I was a little kid, she would feed me and tell me the story of little red riding hood! Oh, how I would enjoy everything!
“Hey there, sorry for the wait, what can I help you with?”
I jump when she appears before me, smiling that unearthly smile. I smirk back, lowering my menu.
“Yeah, what’s the soup of the day?” I asked. God, what a beautiful smile.
Thick and creamy. Corn chowder was my favorite as a kid. Growing up on the East Coast, chowders abounded. Clam chowder wasn’t Kosher, so we stuck with corn chowder, heavy on the cream and loaded with thick potato slices. One of my favorite memories is sitting at our old table, the ocean breeze coming through the window and a bowl of chowder in front of me.
i like soup. especially chicken noodle soup. its what i eat when im sick. its what i eat when im sad. its what i eat when i have tummy ache. im in love with soup. soup is for the soul. it aids in our time of need. when it is difficult to eat other foods. soup is there. when it gives us diahrea to eat anything else! soup is there. you can always count on soup.
soups. chicken noodle. broccoli cheddar which isn’t as vegetarian as it sounds. french onion. tomato. oh man, tomato soup is like the only vegetarian soup at panera. i don’t understand why they use meat bases because it makes shit difficult. not that it’s a personal problem for me, but still for other people that must suck. anyway, soups.
Soups are my favorite. I don’t share much with people, but the one thing they know is that I crave soup. All the time. I might have a problem… but I choose to deny it.
“Hey, slow down killer,” he says as I swallow hard, paralyzed in awe.
soup is really good when I’m sick I like to eat tomato souip but when I was younger I was always told to eat chicken noodle soup but we didn’t actually have the stuff with real chicken in it
i like soups. though sometimes, they trigger me.
see, when i didn’t truly eat, i ingested soups. they were low calorie, and made my stomach believe everything was normal.
nothing was normal.
so now, even though it’s summer and who would eat soup now? if i share some potato soup with my grandma, or have chili with my stepmom–
There are many various types of soup, it is a very watery type of food. The types include Chicken Noodle, Beef Stew, Tomato Soup, etc. Some people enjoy eating soup while others do not. I happen to enjoy eating only certain types of soup, but have taken a certain fondness to baja chicken tortilla soup from RJ’s sizzling steer in murrieta california.
Soups. Like water, but thicker, more substantial. They come in all flavours and shapes and smells, each as unique as the person who made it. As all people. We are a lot like soups, us humans. Unique. Flavourful. Delicious
ive never really like soups. sometimes i eat clam chowder but thats only on occation. soup is a weird word. just keep saying it. its weird. soupsoupsoupssoups.
soup soup soup. i don’t even like soup. it’s basically flavored water, right? i don’t like that gross lemon water shit, so why would i like runny tomato paste?
although, i do really like this white bean chili stuff my aunt makes.
my aunt and cousins are in disneyland without me right now. i’m so sad and mad. i want to be there too.
The home is always open. Whether it be to the homeless, or others just starving due to poverty. Not many people work there, some found it boring and wasteful. Although, I think it was wonderful. Me and some fellow friends work their all the time nowadays. And we all love it.
i love chicken noodle soup but i cant take the smell, because when my dads ex girlfriends daughter would not shower her armpits smelled like cooking chicken noodle soup =/!
Soups are supposed to be healthy drinks. However, they can also not be, and taste great. Soups can vary between clear soups with flavours like a thai clear soup or can be thick, gravy-like and creamy like some english soups.
soups. soups of the soul.. all the different ingredients mixed in one bowl. one dish of deliciousness. to stir and sip so slowly feeling the warmth on my lips…
Soups…soups are a basic food. One of the most basic. It can help heal the sick, bring comfort to the uncomfortable, and bring back memories of home to the homesick. Primordial soup…we’re made from soup. Strange, eh?
i really like soup but sometimes spoons give me issues i dislike spoons actually but soups are fantastic you can have cold soup and hot soup and there’s even sweet soup for dessserts or you know how icecream melts and become soup.
Sometimes it may be Campbell or your moms home recipe but soup will warm the heart on any cold day. Veggie, beef stew, or chicken noodle.. Whatever you like can be in soup. I love na lot of noodle and carrots and spinache
You stared at the serving, eying the small islands that floated up and down. Slowly, you poked at it with your spoon. Your eyes shot up and met mine. “Are you going to eat that or play with it?” I asked you. You grinned.
soups in the kitchen
getting real cold
yet they sit and talk
letting their food grow old
so much passion has been witheld
pent up for the sake
of the other while the tension
has held their relationship at stake.
Soups are fun, I recently had wonton soup. There is egusi soup downstairs there is also red stew. Stew isnt like soup though. They are very different things. Wonton soup tasted disgusting I prefered Dumplings to wontons. Sushi though was madd balling. The sushi with a little soy sauce was the shiztax and The last time I had sushi before that was at my Job. It was the remains of a famous jewish White mans party but It also was balling. I gobbled that raw fish and seaweed with the intensity of a starving coon Bruh I was on it. Soups though. Umm I am an african so there hasnt really been much oppourtunity to try anything other than the good ole african varieties of soups
One problem human beings face is that we’re a giant bowl of soup. The atlantic ocean is our broth and we’re little meatballs, the trees are the veggies of this global Italian Wedding, and the grand universe is invited. Existence as a meatball is irrelevant. We are small. Plump. Possibly unhealthy. And yet we’re the reason for this soup; people at these Italian weddings recieve their tiny bowls of broth and wonder what they’ve possibly done wrong not to recieve a handful of conglomerated tradition.
too many different soups to choose from
I stand in the grocery store soup aisle, a whole aisle,
and i just want a can of soup!
but there are so many.
low sodium?
low fat?
organic?
all natural?
campbells?
plain old chicken noodle.
Steam poured from the soup as I settled it in front of him. He took one look at it and immediately frowned, “Redo it” he demanded. Right then and there, I wanted to scream all the frustrations that he had caused me but because of what he knew – I could not. And he was doing a pretty good job of exploiting that too, that jerk.
I starred at the red liquid in my bowl and starred at him. He looked into my eyes as he took a sip. I half smiled and looked down at my bowl and then back into my lovers eyes. This would be our last meeting, if only he knew. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed. I kissed his cold lips and poured the red liquid into my own bowl. Lovercide they would call it.
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the front door of the café creak open; her first customers had finally come. She beamed as she straightened her shirt and tried to walk as elegantly as possible to greet them at the door.
“Good evening,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her apron.”Welcome to–”
“Do you have any special soups?” the man, who was clad in a rather debonair suit, asked, peering over the spectacles that sat perched on the bridge of his nose. The woman with her arm looped around his pursed her lips.
“S-special soups?” She wrung her hands nervously; her palms had begun to sweat. “We, uh . . . we have chicken noodle.” The man furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh! And, uh . . . tomato basil! We have that too.” The silence that ensued seemed to last hours.
I stir the corn starch and charcoal with water, creating a gray soup, half matter half invention. I only want to create something destructive, ugly and beautiful and perfectly gelatinous like my feelings. I am a stew of simmering anger, and the swirling gray lumps of coal that refuse to dissolve perfectly represent my sins
i never thought i liked soup but now i’m not so sure. i don’t know why it’s something that you eat when youre sick it never makes me feel better. i dont know what my favorite kind of soup is and a song came on about ramen right now which is kind of soup so that’s ironic. my friend like clam
soups
cold ones in the summertime
italian gaspacho
tomatoes off the vine
taste green
taste like you
soups
cold ones in the summertime
all the times i didn’t say hello
Today, it is too hot out for soup. Then again, there’s nothing more comforting on a certain kind of day- you know the kind- than a warm stew. Maybe today was one of those days; maybe it wasn’t- it doesn’t matter. Just reading the word reminds me that I can’t wait for winter, for hot soup, for solace.
warm, bowl in the winter. a cold spoon contrasting the taste. it was winter, and the soup was 5 dollars. the last 5 i hand in my pocket. not even enough to get back home on the bus. snow, started to fall.
the soups were delicious and i honestly had never wanted any food more in my entire life. too bad they were poisoned. yes that’s right i had really screwed myself over there when i pulled that trick. but how was i supposed to know they would look and smell that good?
I was eating some soups on the terrace the other day. The consistency was just like I expected it to be. In a odd way, it was what I expected my life to be. Transparent, but so delicious that I wanted to savor it. That other could too.
When I am sick, my mother always makes me some nice chicken noodle soup. I always will enjoy that. And back on my memories, when I was a little kid, she would feed me and tell me the story of little red riding hood! Oh, how I would enjoy everything!
“Hey there, sorry for the wait, what can I help you with?”
I jump when she appears before me, smiling that unearthly smile. I smirk back, lowering my menu.
“Yeah, what’s the soup of the day?” I asked. God, what a beautiful smile.
Thick and creamy. Corn chowder was my favorite as a kid. Growing up on the East Coast, chowders abounded. Clam chowder wasn’t Kosher, so we stuck with corn chowder, heavy on the cream and loaded with thick potato slices. One of my favorite memories is sitting at our old table, the ocean breeze coming through the window and a bowl of chowder in front of me.
supele sînt uneori delicioase, mai puţin supa primordială, în care a început viaţa pe pămînt.
i like soup. especially chicken noodle soup. its what i eat when im sick. its what i eat when im sad. its what i eat when i have tummy ache. im in love with soup. soup is for the soul. it aids in our time of need. when it is difficult to eat other foods. soup is there. when it gives us diahrea to eat anything else! soup is there. you can always count on soup.
soups. chicken noodle. broccoli cheddar which isn’t as vegetarian as it sounds. french onion. tomato. oh man, tomato soup is like the only vegetarian soup at panera. i don’t understand why they use meat bases because it makes shit difficult. not that it’s a personal problem for me, but still for other people that must suck. anyway, soups.
Soups are my favorite. I don’t share much with people, but the one thing they know is that I crave soup. All the time. I might have a problem… but I choose to deny it.
“Hey, slow down killer,” he says as I swallow hard, paralyzed in awe.
soup is really good when I’m sick I like to eat tomato souip but when I was younger I was always told to eat chicken noodle soup but we didn’t actually have the stuff with real chicken in it
soups are what i dislike
they’re ok but it just doesn’t make me feel right
the taste
the look
some of it is ok
as long as you can cook
i like soups. though sometimes, they trigger me.
see, when i didn’t truly eat, i ingested soups. they were low calorie, and made my stomach believe everything was normal.
nothing was normal.
so now, even though it’s summer and who would eat soup now? if i share some potato soup with my grandma, or have chili with my stepmom–
my brain wants to travel backwards.
There are many various types of soup, it is a very watery type of food. The types include Chicken Noodle, Beef Stew, Tomato Soup, etc. Some people enjoy eating soup while others do not. I happen to enjoy eating only certain types of soup, but have taken a certain fondness to baja chicken tortilla soup from RJ’s sizzling steer in murrieta california.
Soups. Like water, but thicker, more substantial. They come in all flavours and shapes and smells, each as unique as the person who made it. As all people. We are a lot like soups, us humans. Unique. Flavourful. Delicious
ive never really like soups. sometimes i eat clam chowder but thats only on occation. soup is a weird word. just keep saying it. its weird. soupsoupsoupssoups.
soup soup soup. i don’t even like soup. it’s basically flavored water, right? i don’t like that gross lemon water shit, so why would i like runny tomato paste?
although, i do really like this white bean chili stuff my aunt makes.
my aunt and cousins are in disneyland without me right now. i’m so sad and mad. i want to be there too.
soup. soup. soup. soup <disneyland.
Warming, comforting, filling, tasty, winter fare…
OR
Damp, obscuring, misty, foggy winter nightmare.
It’s all in how you pronounce it,
how you phrase it,
how you mean it to be used –
Soup or pea-souper!
The home is always open. Whether it be to the homeless, or others just starving due to poverty. Not many people work there, some found it boring and wasteful. Although, I think it was wonderful. Me and some fellow friends work their all the time nowadays. And we all love it.
sweet corn, i love it in winters, i eat sitting on my terrace, its hot but tasty, my mom cooks very tasty
i love chicken noodle soup but i cant take the smell, because when my dads ex girlfriends daughter would not shower her armpits smelled like cooking chicken noodle soup =/!
Soups are supposed to be healthy drinks. However, they can also not be, and taste great. Soups can vary between clear soups with flavours like a thai clear soup or can be thick, gravy-like and creamy like some english soups.
soups. soups of the soul.. all the different ingredients mixed in one bowl. one dish of deliciousness. to stir and sip so slowly feeling the warmth on my lips…
Soups…soups are a basic food. One of the most basic. It can help heal the sick, bring comfort to the uncomfortable, and bring back memories of home to the homesick. Primordial soup…we’re made from soup. Strange, eh?
i really like soup but sometimes spoons give me issues i dislike spoons actually but soups are fantastic you can have cold soup and hot soup and there’s even sweet soup for dessserts or you know how icecream melts and become soup.
Sometimes it may be Campbell or your moms home recipe but soup will warm the heart on any cold day. Veggie, beef stew, or chicken noodle.. Whatever you like can be in soup. I love na lot of noodle and carrots and spinache
You stared at the serving, eying the small islands that floated up and down. Slowly, you poked at it with your spoon. Your eyes shot up and met mine. “Are you going to eat that or play with it?” I asked you. You grinned.
soups in the kitchen
getting real cold
yet they sit and talk
letting their food grow old
so much passion has been witheld
pent up for the sake
of the other while the tension
has held their relationship at stake.
Soups are love of a grandmother on a cold rainy day made liquid and edible stealing you to go back out and dance in the rain. Especially if homemade.
Soups are fun, I recently had wonton soup. There is egusi soup downstairs there is also red stew. Stew isnt like soup though. They are very different things. Wonton soup tasted disgusting I prefered Dumplings to wontons. Sushi though was madd balling. The sushi with a little soy sauce was the shiztax and The last time I had sushi before that was at my Job. It was the remains of a famous jewish White mans party but It also was balling. I gobbled that raw fish and seaweed with the intensity of a starving coon Bruh I was on it. Soups though. Umm I am an african so there hasnt really been much oppourtunity to try anything other than the good ole african varieties of soups
One problem human beings face is that we’re a giant bowl of soup. The atlantic ocean is our broth and we’re little meatballs, the trees are the veggies of this global Italian Wedding, and the grand universe is invited. Existence as a meatball is irrelevant. We are small. Plump. Possibly unhealthy. And yet we’re the reason for this soup; people at these Italian weddings recieve their tiny bowls of broth and wonder what they’ve possibly done wrong not to recieve a handful of conglomerated tradition.
too many different soups to choose from
I stand in the grocery store soup aisle, a whole aisle,
and i just want a can of soup!
but there are so many.
low sodium?
low fat?
organic?
all natural?
campbells?
plain old chicken noodle.
Steam poured from the soup as I settled it in front of him. He took one look at it and immediately frowned, “Redo it” he demanded. Right then and there, I wanted to scream all the frustrations that he had caused me but because of what he knew – I could not. And he was doing a pretty good job of exploiting that too, that jerk.
I starred at the red liquid in my bowl and starred at him. He looked into my eyes as he took a sip. I half smiled and looked down at my bowl and then back into my lovers eyes. This would be our last meeting, if only he knew. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed. I kissed his cold lips and poured the red liquid into my own bowl. Lovercide they would call it.
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the front door of the café creak open; her first customers had finally come. She beamed as she straightened her shirt and tried to walk as elegantly as possible to greet them at the door.
“Good evening,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her apron.”Welcome to–”
“Do you have any special soups?” the man, who was clad in a rather debonair suit, asked, peering over the spectacles that sat perched on the bridge of his nose. The woman with her arm looped around his pursed her lips.
“S-special soups?” She wrung her hands nervously; her palms had begun to sweat. “We, uh . . . we have chicken noodle.” The man furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh! And, uh . . . tomato basil! We have that too.” The silence that ensued seemed to last hours.
I stir the corn starch and charcoal with water, creating a gray soup, half matter half invention. I only want to create something destructive, ugly and beautiful and perfectly gelatinous like my feelings. I am a stew of simmering anger, and the swirling gray lumps of coal that refuse to dissolve perfectly represent my sins
i never thought i liked soup but now i’m not so sure. i don’t know why it’s something that you eat when youre sick it never makes me feel better. i dont know what my favorite kind of soup is and a song came on about ramen right now which is kind of soup so that’s ironic. my friend like clam
soups
cold ones in the summertime
italian gaspacho
tomatoes off the vine
taste green
taste like you
soups
cold ones in the summertime
all the times i didn’t say hello
The soup dripped from the corner of my mother’s mouth. I’ll never forget how much I wished she wasn’t sick anymore.
Today, it is too hot out for soup. Then again, there’s nothing more comforting on a certain kind of day- you know the kind- than a warm stew. Maybe today was one of those days; maybe it wasn’t- it doesn’t matter. Just reading the word reminds me that I can’t wait for winter, for hot soup, for solace.
warm, bowl in the winter. a cold spoon contrasting the taste. it was winter, and the soup was 5 dollars. the last 5 i hand in my pocket. not even enough to get back home on the bus. snow, started to fall.
the soups were delicious and i honestly had never wanted any food more in my entire life. too bad they were poisoned. yes that’s right i had really screwed myself over there when i pulled that trick. but how was i supposed to know they would look and smell that good?
I was eating some soups on the terrace the other day. The consistency was just like I expected it to be. In a odd way, it was what I expected my life to be. Transparent, but so delicious that I wanted to savor it. That other could too.