Just had a tin of Scotch Broth. Decent enough but only two tiny chunks of lamb. Yesterday was Heinz Tomato, still heavyweight champion of the world, the Godfather of Soup, the Red Baron, my first, my last, my everything.
I've also been riffing off tinned bacon and spicy lentil, which is some wholesome shit. We're talking watching The Waltons with the family before a Sunday walk through the country levels of wholesome.
I've given up on packet soup. If I want Hot and Sour, baby, I'll look in a fucking mirror.
Nor really. I'll go to Ho's Bakery round the back of mine in China Town/Spice World. It's a quid and a bit for a tub of the gloopy deliciousness. With all the drug deals going on around the pagoda still it's a real case of Charlie, brown and gloopy.
Repping the Manchester Soup Scene. Keeping it soup 24/7.
This is inspiring me to make some of my celebrated ham, lentil, pea and tomato soup. Thick as a brick and the perfect antidote to a cold, damp, dismal day.
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