Chilled Sorrel and Potato Soup


© Pat Churchill

Sorrel soup
We have just begun that dreaded journey into stress territory - selling our house. We spent the weekend doing the grand clean-up. Fortunately as we've been here just under two years, it wasn't an insurmountable task. So far only one carload to the tip.

Having just landscaped a fair part of the section and had a good garden cleanout recently, there wasn't too much to do in that department either, apart from planting a bit of spot colour, pulling out a few weeds and filling the gaps with the odd annuals.

I like these entrepreneurial types who set up useful little businesses like taking down, cleaning and re-hanging drapes, doing a thorough spring-clean and so on. They help moving people retain their sanity.

There's a lot to be learned from house cleaners. Over the years in Wellington I had three different women who cleaned my house, one handing on the job to the next. They were all nurses and all wonderful. It was a treat to come home on a Friday night and find the place spotless and smelling sweet. They each worked quickly and efficiently and the whole house was clean at one time.

I work on the random method - a bit of cleaning here, a bit there, this room today, the floors tomorrow. And our beloved cat follows around dropping bits of his long black coat everywhere.

Anyway, I spent most of the weekend beavering away at the little jobs that needed to be done before the land agents' photographer came to take pictures for the marketing plan.

While I was hoeing the new herb garden, I decided to pick some of the flourishing sorrel to make some sorrel soup.

Things all went according to plan until I reached the stage of blending the soup. Instead of using my usual food processor, I decided to use the blender that was already sitting on the bench. That was the first big mistake. The second was putting in too much of the hot soup. I have only myself to blame. I was expecting a bit of pressure to build up in the goblet so I was holding the lid on with my hand. I had the presence of mind to keep holding it more or less on while a stream of soup flung itself out from under the lid and I groped for the off button. The nearby walls turned a rather interesting shade of mottled pale green. So did my blouse. I peeled it off, grabbed a freshly laundered one from the clothes basket and proceeded to wipe down the walls, microwave, benches, fruit bowl etc.

Sorrel soup
       

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