tomato soup {not from a can}

have never made it. and I thought it was time. so last week, after a quick stop at corti brothers, and a few runs to the living room to see the Giant's woop some bootie in the fifth inning (woot, woot!), i was well on my way to warm, homemade tomato soup, courtesy of the nordstrom friends and family cookbook. fancy schmancy!




all those chopped carrots stained my fingers and the onions really got the tears flowing. but its cool, they were happy tears. and basil...oh how i love thee.

*side note: apparently, san mazano tomatoes are all the rage and their price tag was a bit more than i anticipated. i was on my bike, had only brought cash and was a dollar short. "no big thang" the kind teen aged cashier said, "just bring it next time". my mouth gaped open: i didn't think people and stores like that still existed.

i gushed sincere gratitude and offered to just put the wine back (luckily that he refused). after repeating, "thank you!" about fifty million times i scurried out the door with a flushed, red face that matched those san mazano tomatoes. but my heart sure was warmed by that small gesture.

anyway, back in the comfort of my own kitchen, my face had returned to its normal hue (which is still pretty red) and i got busy. but sometimes a break is necessary for the creative spirit...

something about cooking and red wine. they belong together. like cinderella and prince charming. or cookies and milk.

it took six batches in the food processor to puree all that soup. but clicking that "pulse" button and watching it's magic is addicting. i may have over-pureed. but is there really such a thing when it comes to soup?

and cream...oh cream-it added an incredible richness and texture and layers of...who am i kidding, i don't even know what i am talking about-cream based soups are just better. enough said. I liked the color transformation too.

dinner for one in a mug...

a huge ziploc full in the freezer waiting for a cold, lazy day...


and a pot, half-full of soup, simmering away on the stove, just waiting for a specific mister to arrive home and slurp it up.

and trust me, *slurp* he does.