Trials, tribulations and tomato soup

Several weeks ago I had a slight dental mishap requiring a temporary fix to a bridge. 

The temporary fix, although fixed, feels temporary and has had an impact on my eating habits.

Tomato soup – cafes, motorway service stations, restaurants all offer “soup of the day”. Inevitably there are two options, one of which is always tomato soup and it comes in multiple disguises.

Roasted Tomato Soup; pretentious indeed. Our soup is posh because we roast the tomatoes. My experience with roasting things has shown they take on a darker colour as a result of roasting but the soup looks as familiarly red as any other tomato soup.

Tomato Soup with Basil; our soup is so bland we have to add other stuff to convince you you’re not spooning hot water into your mouth. So the green bits floating in the sea of red are intentional, not the result of sloppy handling in the kitchen.

Tomato Soup; no pretentious here, just the same old stuff I’ve been spooning in relentlessly these past few weeks.

These are unsouped tomatoes, currently off the menu  
If we had more time here I’d go in search of the big Tomato Soup Factory that I know exists somewhere in middle England. It should be easy to spot given the lake of soup it must produce every day.

Red and lovely looking but not for me just yet.  
When my temporary bridge is replaced with a more permanent solution I will willingly go through tomato soup withdrawal symptoms. But until then I have one more day here, and crossing fingers in the hope that tomato soup in any guise is not on Friday’s inflight menu.

The last straw (no pun intended, I’m not yet reduced to sipping puréed food through a straw, though it has been suggested) was today’s offering from a high street store. Slightly posh Tomato with Basil. The big soup tureen on the counter suggested a carefully made offering. It turns out the tureen was just there to prop up the sign. The server reached into a fridge, took out a plastic container (she nearly pulled out the mulligatawny by mistake), poured a quarter into a paper cup and stuck it in the microwave. I paid £3.60 for this portion. The container she took it from is available in the store’s food department for £4.00.

So for now it’s look, don’t touch    


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