The waitress puts the soup down. How annoying. I came here for lunch because I knew they had a bookshelf that you could borrow from while in the cafe. I’ve been wanting to read this novel for months. It’s pretty good.
Of course I have no chance of finishing it, but the quicker the food comes the the less I do get to read.
Oh well. I can kind of prop the book open and do two things at once.
The soup is thick, light green with many dark speckles. Not the nicest colour combination ever, but I don’t know what other colours a broccoli soup could come in. They do have purple broccoli, don’t they?
Probably not in Ulaanbaatar though. I’m glad it’s green. After weeks of mutton and porridge I need the nutrition.
It sits in a heap on the spoon, almost glutinous. It tastes… a little bitter, a little salty… sulfuric.
Huh.
There’s a plate of bread slices to go with it. Dip one into the soup, catchy the sogginess into my mouth before it drips.
Hey! Now that is good!
Staring at the soup. Not much on its own, but nice with bread! Perhaps the same law of physics that makes all leftovers better once on top of toast.
Sadly it is harder to read while dipped with bread. A downside.
Alternating using a spoon, reading a page, and dipping the bread.
The soup is gone.
Fifteen minutes later, my drink is also done. The book remains vastly unread.
Oh well… I guess if I get the book for myself I can eat whatever I like while reading it!
Rating:
Specifics: Cream of broccoli soup from Cafe Amsterdam, Ulaanbaatar
Cream of Broccoli Soup
The waitress puts the soup down. How annoying. I came here for lunch because I knew they had a bookshelf that you could borrow from while in the cafe. I’ve been wanting to read this novel for months. It’s pretty good.
Of course I have no chance of finishing it, but the quicker the food comes the the less I do get to read.
Oh well. I can kind of prop the book open and do two things at once.
The soup is thick, light green with many dark speckles. Not the nicest colour combination ever, but I don’t know what other colours a broccoli soup could come in. They do have purple broccoli, don’t they?
Probably not in Ulaanbaatar though. I’m glad it’s green. After weeks of mutton and porridge I need the nutrition.
It sits in a heap on the spoon, almost glutinous. It tastes… a little bitter, a little salty… sulfuric.
Huh.
There’s a plate of bread slices to go with it. Dip one into the soup, catchy the sogginess into my mouth before it drips.
Hey! Now that is good!
Staring at the soup. Not much on its own, but nice with bread! Perhaps the same law of physics that makes all leftovers better once on top of toast.
Sadly it is harder to read while dipped with bread. A downside.
Alternating using a spoon, reading a page, and dipping the bread.
The soup is gone.
Fifteen minutes later, my drink is also done. The book remains vastly unread.
Oh well… I guess if I get the book for myself I can eat whatever I like while reading it!
Rating:
Specifics: Cream of broccoli soup from Cafe Amsterdam, Ulaanbaatar