So what’s with the title of my blog, I keep being asked. Accepted, that it was an enthusiastic but failed attempt at alliteration. But there is a story (albeit long) behind it:

The Steinbeck classic this tile is reminiscent of, was a very versatile read for me. There were different ideas and thoughts it left me with every time I read it. (Yes, I’m one of those book sleuths who reads the same book several times). One of those lasting impressions was how both men (as in mankind), and mice were both seemingly simple, and yet, complicated creatures; how either is delicate and fragile, despite all its strengths, and takes perhaps a lifetime to comprehend (if at all) and be an expert at.

Likewise, soups and souffles. Seemingly simple, but complicated as anything could ever be and could possibly take a lifetime to master. Well, for me, at least.

I am not too bad in the kitchen. Stick a spatula in my hand and I can whip up something edible. I can tell when something’s burning and know how to salvage leftovers. I can use complicated machinery like a Kitchen Aid. But what I am not is a souffle expert. What I can’t do is stir up a soup down to the last word of a recipe. Somehow, the need to experiment or go off on a different herb/spice tangent than what the recipe calls for takes over completely. (A distinct indication of leftover teenage rebellion; but we won’t go off on that today).

I fail to comprehend the souffle like I fail to understand some people. Soups end up being difficult to deal with at times.The ingredients are plain and simple, the combinations not-so-complex; but totally different from my expectations of how it’d turn out. And like finding the time and disposition to cook more and write more in my stress-infested life, terribly frustrating and complicated.

But that is all the more alluring to my challenge-loving mind now. I will figure it out yet! Don’t know if I can say that about fathoming the quirks of mankind, though.

Here’s to more souffles, soups, and their near and distant cousins.