Getting closer...

I'm under 200 miles from Eugene. I'll be there tomorrow. For now, I'm parked in another rest area with another beautiful panoramic view. I have more clinkers in my cooler, and I'm going to cook up some soup. That can all wait for the sun to go down a little further. I'm reading "Life of Pi." I didn't say so earlier, but that's the book that I borrowed from Ravi during my bicycle trip. It's great. I knew it would be good, because Ravi seemed to know his books pretty well. He had shelves full of elite novels and could give a quick rundown of each one. Out of all of them, he seemed to recommend this one most after we talked for awhile. I'm on it.

I cooked up my soup, and I wrote a review.

Soup Review: Wolfgang Puck's Chicken and Dumplings

When a person buys groceries, what is it that dictates the decided purchases? There are a mist of obvious variables, and then there is an underlying history and a hidden story to be told. There are so many choices for any general item that deciding factors and hidden psychologies naturally exist. A shopper must choose between ten or more types of pickles in a jar with only the most minute differences. Sliced? How thin? Crinkles? Brand name? $.90 more? Elite pickles and $5 more? Why? When you're buying olive oil, how do you pick between 10,000 choices? Price alone is obvious. Otherwise?

I bought some food to stock up my van. I'm not a necessarilly adept food purchaser, but I realize clearly that spending assinine sums on crazy fatty restaurant food and tipping fat sums for assinine sums of restaurant food is not a sustainable option. Soup needs to get bought. I bought soup, olive oil, pasta, pasta sauce, cereal, juice, crackers, and other canned stuff. I'll give you my thoughts on a specific soup that I bought and ate.

Wolfgang Puck is an excellent chef. I know this because his face grinned at me from cans of soup, and he's not that handsome. He's a good chef. He's not selling soup because he looks like Uncle Jesse. Why did I choose this soup? Memories. I bought a can of Wolfgang's chicken and dumplings. I have a specific fond memory of chicken and dumplings. On my bicycle trip thru Quebec ('07), cycling hard and dying of thirst and hunger, Lonnie took me in and let me eat several pounds of chicken and dumplings. I slept in his screen tent about ten feet from the stove that heated that food. Remembering Lonnie fondly, I decided to chance a can born from promised professional pedigree.

Disappointment strikes. Wolfgang: Where did you go wrong (in life)? I have qualms. Your soup is runny and unfilling. I know from the description on your label that you hunted through the woods for 72 hours with a bow and arrow to obtain tiny morsels of the world's most delicious tiny carrot circles - but why so much water? Did I spend three bucks for mostly water? The cooking instructions warn me not to add water, and the reason is obvious when the can is opened and poured into a cooking pot / apparatus. I submit humbly that these same instructions should suggest: Just add 10,000 crackers for sustanence! Wolfgang: your soup is a watery joke. Initially I mistook your smile as a smile of pride. Now I see it differently. Now I know what your grinning face looks like when you've gotten one over on another sentimental customer. I will make this mistake only once. You can take your other flavors and shove them.