Yesterday my new ward had a soup and chili cook-off. I decided to sign up to bring soup because it would be a way to get to know the ward better and I'd never made soup before. It would be a fun experience.
The soup-making experience, although a bit fun, did not turn out well. Even before I'd begun, something in the stove burned its way into oblivion, leaving its horrific smelly bi-product behind, a mere shadow of what was to come.
First the potatoes, broccoli, onion, and garlic (that exploded on me when I opened the jar) stewed in the chicken broth.
Then the stuff was pureed to a nice, foamy paste.
And then poured back into the pot and the cheese (er...vomit?) was added.
Finally, the taste test. I have to say, I really didn't look forward to the taste test, as the kitchen by this point reeked of something most foul and the soup looked nothing like any cheddar broccoli soup I'd ever seen.
Lo and behold, it was vomit after all! Actually, I found the whole process quite funny. In the end, I was 45 minutes late to the activity and nobody asked where the soup was.
(Okay, okay, I manipulated the lighting in some of the pictures to make it look as nasty as I possibly could. But I promise you it was disgusting. If you don't believe me, I saved some in a jar, mostly so I could put something in the jar, but there it is.)