And that is how a grown man and two girl children set out on an epic cooking adventure. We didn't have a recipe, just the hazy memory in the man's head of a soup so cheesy and salty, with a little hint of sweetness. We would guess. Even though us little ones (aged 11 and 7) had no idea what the man was talking about, with his large brain and our two smaller ones, surely we could puzzle it out.
At the stores of grocery, we wandered and wove up and down and up and down mazes of food stuffs. After gathering everything up in our increasingly heavy basket of wire, we were stymied by lack of those who perform the certification of purchase. The villagers were rioting, striking against the feudal lords of Vons.
Fear not! We would not be deterred!
On to the next store of grocery, where we were greeted by empty shelves, the kingdom's pantry raided. Two more stores of grocery we would visit until we were satisfied. The desirous cheese from cows could not be found so this strange type we grabbed instead - VEGAN read the label.
Back at the castle, the wee ones watched while the grown one chopped, browned, boiled, and broiled. Into the bowls went soup, then bread, then cheese. Then popped into the oven for a few. Making soup in the oven? Now anything was possible.
The cheese labeled VEGAN was our downfall. The French onion soup was not meant to be. With steeled minds and wills (and unfortunately, human stomachs), we slurped it all down, as strange as it may have tasted, with floating chunks of bread and odd bits of plasticheese that squeaked against our teeth. These were the fruits of our labor, as wondrous, odd, and appropriate as they were for our quest.
This post is for my Cousin O'Mine who reads my blog. This memory is of the knight of our gallant quest, his dad, and our food adventure one odd afternoon in Los Angeles when my sister and I were just wee girls. To this day, this is one of our fondest memories of him.