Monday 13 August 2012

Cooking Tips: Leek And Potato Soup

You may not realise this from reading Muppets For Justice, but there are a lot of things I'm not very good at.  I'd be the first to admit that I am completely hopeless at a lot of stuff that normal people take for granted.  But I'm not a quitter.  Lately, I've been going through some self improvement to try and alleviate some of these issues.  The most recent thing I've decided to learn is how to cook properly.

Now I’m a bad cook.  I cook like I make love: quick, greasy and unsatisfying.  I can just about handle microwavable food and meal kits, but anything more intricate would result in serious injury.  Due to this, Mrs Addman does most of the cooking around our house.  Being a modern guy, I wanted to take the pressure off of her and take on some of the culinary duties myself.

The first dish I decided to attempt was leek and potato soup.  I mean, how hard can that be?  Surely you only need a leek and potato.  I searched for a recipe and was immediately proved wrong:

1 tbsp virgin olive oil
1 onion, sliced
225g/8oz potatoes, cubed
2 medium leeks,sliced
1.2 litres/2 pints vegetable stock
150ml/5fl oz double cream or crème fraîche
salt and freshly ground black pepper

An artist's rendition

That doesn't seem so bad, does it?  I thought I’d be able to handle it, so I set about collecting my ingredients.  Most items were quite easy to procure, but my local supermarket didn’t seem to have any virgin olive oil.  As I explained, my culinary skills aren’t exactly amazing, but I knew that the soup wouldn't taste as great without this vital ingredient.  I figured the nearest substitute would be virgin’s blood.

Tesco didn’t have any of that in bottles.  The shelf stackers just laughed at me when I asked them about it, and suggested that I put an advert on the Internet.  Taking their advice, I headed home and pulled on my typing gloves.

I was initially disappointed at the lack of willing sacrifices there are online and it proved more difficult than I'd hoped to find a suitable virgin.  My adverts on Match.com and OKCupid didn't draw in any replies.  Eventually, I posted the following on Craiglist:

“Wanted:  Pure, nubile, young virgin to help me make soup.  Non smoker preferred.”

I received a response from a lovely Mormon lady named Natalie.  She was 18 and informed me that she’d “never been kissed” as she'd been saving herself, which seemed perfect as she would be clean of other people’s germs.  I understand that food hygiene is a big thing these days.

After I’d drained all the blood from her body (I misread the recipe and didn’t realise I only needed a tablespoon’s worth), I set about making my soup.  I cubed my potatoes and put them in a pan.  I added a finely chopped onion and a leek, then poured in my vegetable stock and bought it to a simmer.  10 minutes later I stirred in my crème fraîche, and seasoned with salt and black pepper.  Then I slapped my hands together and shouted “FUCK!  COME ON BIG BOY!” which, as I understand from watching Gordon Ramsey on telly, makes the food cook faster.

*Walks away shaking head* Fuck!  What a shame....


Then I drizzled in the virgin’s blood.  A thick plume of black smoke shot out of the pan, engulfing my kitchen in a dense mist.  This sent my smoke alarm into a panic as I fumbled my way around the kitchen to open a window.

As I fanned the fumes away, I noticed there was someone standing my kitchen.  I saw his feet first.  Well, when I say feet, I mean cloven hooves.  His goatly appendages were attached to a pair of crimson thighs and a forked tail.  The smoke finally parted to reveal his belt of shrunken skulls, and a pair of ram’s horns adorning his head.  It appeared that I had accidentally summoned up a rather substantial demon.

I’m a bit confused at this point.  I’ve watched plenty of Jamie Oliver’s 30 minute meals and I swear I’ve never seen him call upon banished creatures from the dark plane before.  In fact, most cooking shows seem distinctly devil free, if I remember correctly.

The demon says that I have 7 days in which to reap the souls of the unworthy, lest he cleave my body in twain and banish my ethereal form into purgatory.  He refuses to leave the house until the deadline is up, and has spent all day sitting in my favourite chair and watching his soap operas.  Any efforts to move him are simply “wasting precious mortal time”, apparently.

Does anyone know what I did wrong?  I don’t think cooking is something I’ll ever be good at.

27 comments:

  1. Oh boy, I hate when that happens. You're just trying to cook a nice meal when, boom, a demon is conjured. You have to add cumin BEFORE the water starts boiling if you want to avoid demon conjuring. That's the second thing they teach you in culinary school right after they warn against bestiality.
    Since you've already incurred Belial's wrath (I assume it's the demon Belial, he's always showing up at fucked up meals) all you can do now is trick hookers and stock market traders to sign their souls over to him. Get cracking.

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    1. I'm such a dope! Thanks for the advice. Now I'm off to try and get Piers Morgan to sign over his soul. Surely, in demon terms, his is worth at least 20.

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  2. What with Mrs H still having her leg up I'm having to do the cooking in our house. The smoke alarm is the most important cooking appliance we own as it is the only I know that tells me when the grub is ready to be scrapped off the pan with a scouring brush.
    Never had a devil in the kitchen though, that's a new one.
    I've had a few flies buzz their way in, but a quick flick of a dish cloth and I can usually guide them toward the nearest open window or gas flame.
    Good luck with your Daemon Busting.

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    1. So, do you think I should flick a dish cloth at the demon? I'll try it and let you know. Glad to hear that you're stepping up to the mark in your culinary duties though.

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  3. I definitely don't like cooking :/ Hubby can watch those shows and create anything tho. It sounds like you have a hooved dinner guest tho, good luck with that! That could only mean one thing at my house, the in laws are showing up! :)

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    1. Yes, and I swore I'd never have any more hooved dinner guests since I went on that reality show, Come Farm With Me. The floor got really scuffed.

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  4. You didn't do anything wrong - it's part of the plan. You now need to find a way to trap the devil and cook the virgin in him/her/it. Devilling is the key process here.

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    1. Excellent cooking pun there. If there was an award for such a thing, I'd give it to you.

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  5. Hey, sometimes black magic is required to get a dish to come out just right. I think you handled the situation perfectly. I bet the virgin wasn't a virgin. That has to be where your recipe took a wrong turn.

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    1. You just can't trust Craigslist these days, can you?

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    2. I think Geeks is onto something. If she'd been a virgin this whole thing could have been avoided. I'd suggest you handle the gynocological exam yourself to insure the virginity of your next vict...um...volunteer. In the meantime, I hear goatly appendages make tasty appetisers. His underworld origins should even make them pre-spiced.

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  6. Pure nubile young lady to help you make soup? Pure? Really? Don't you want some spice in that soup? But I applaud you for getting in the kitchen and giving it a go.

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    1. Spice is fine, but I understand that food hygiene is big thing these days. Food prep has to be as clean and pure as possible. I could have found a lady of the night and given her a bath in bleach, but it seemed like too much effort.

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  7. This is my kind of post. Virgin blood and demons? You are a man after my heart. Remember to cook at 350 degrees. Oh, and won't you boil it a bit first because when you pop it in the oven, it's only to add a crisp to it by brushing on a little butter.

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    1. Great tips! I tried brushing on a little butter, but the demon got a bit angry, especially when I tried to brush it on his nipples. I think he might have sucked out my soul as punishment.

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  8. I hate it when that happens. Good luck with the whole soul harvesting thing.

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  9. I think you got leek and potato soup and black pudding mixed up myself. Several members of my family say black pudding is the work of the devil but I like it, so if you have any left I might be interested in a little taste...

    I cant wait to see what happens why you try a Sunday roast.

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    1. Really? It's so easy to mix those two up. To be fair, the whole thing looked pretty black by the time I'd finished, so you're probably right.

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  10. I got fired from one of my previous cooking job by accidently summoning the spirit of John Wayne Gacy while trying to make ahi tuna. He took out at least half the wait staff before I could put a lid on him.

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    1. Perhaps my demon and your mass-murdering rapist could get together. I feel sorry for them, being so alone and all.

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  11. Ah, rookie mistake. You put in the virgin's blood AFTER the cream, didn't you. Don't sweat it, it happens to the best of us.

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    1. Bah! These virgins should come with cooking instructions.

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  12. Dude, I want you to repeat this recipe but record yourself doing it (including the blood draining).

    Then send the video to me so I can do it myself.

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    1. I think the police would be onto us pretty quickly.

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  13. Did you try adding more crème fraîche? Or just ordering out instead? That seems to fix things for me.

    Also, you get +2 Internets for using the phrase, "cleave my body in twain." Masterfully done.

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    1. I think I'll just call for a pizza next time. What could go wrong with that? *Picks up a takeaway menu for "Satan's Bar & Grill"*

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