One thing you must know about my older son: he listens to music constantly.

Whenever I assign him an extended household chore such as washing dishes, folding laundry, or scrubbing the kitchen floor, he first has to run to his room to grab his equipment. If I’m feeling benevolent or—and this is more likely—am not around, one of his speakers (either this small one or this bigger one) gets hauled out and the music blares. When I’m cranky, he wears headphones. (I used to think headphones were so individualistic and anti-social, but now? Sanity savors all the way, baby.)

He sings while he works. (Dances, too—there’s a frightful amount of gyrating and head jerking.) Earlier this week when he was emptying the dish drainer, he discovered his sound quality could be enhanced by warbling into a large bowl. So then he subjected me to The Phantom of the Opera’s “Music of the Night” à la A Bowl.

Softly, deftly, 
Music shall caress you, 
Hear it, feel it, 
Secretly posses you….

It was quite the show.

This same time, years previous: homemade pepperoni, family weekending, the quotidian (3.10.14), adventuring, now, let’s talk.

My younger daughter requested broccoli soup for her birthday supper.

“But not your soup, Mama. You have to make Shannon’s recipe.” And then she added, oh-so-hopefully, “Do you think Shannon could just make the soup for us?”

My kids have been requesting Shannon’s broccoli soup for years. I’ve quizzed Shannon off and on, and then followed her instructions (more or less), but the kids always fussed. “It’s not the same. Hers is better.” (Probably because of my “more or less” habit.) 

So this time I interrogated Shannon on every little-iddy-biddy-wittle Broccoli Soup Aspect: method! ingredient quantity and quality! final consistency and texture! And then I asked her all over again but with different words.

My obsessiveness totally paid off because, in the process, I unearthed a somehow-overlooked crucial element: Shannon steamed her broccoli and then chopped it fine in the food processor before adding it to the cheesy sauce. Well, well, well.

My younger daughter declared my new soup attempt to be the real deal (whew). Everyone else loved it, too, including my husband.

“I agree with the kids,” he said. “It’s better this way. Must be a texture thing.”

Shannon’s Creamy Broccoli Soup

I doubled Shannon’s recipe; the changes are reflected below. If you aren’t feeding the multitudes, or would rather not eat broccoli soup every day for a week, halve the recipe.

3 pounds fresh broccoli (a big Costco bag)
½ cup butter
½ cup flour
2-4 cups milk
1 pound sharp cheddar cheese, grated
2-3 teaspoons salt
freshly ground black pepper

Steam the broccoli until very tender. Reserve the green cooking liquid. Working in batches, pulse the broccoli in the food processor until chopped fine. Set aside.

In a large kettle, melt the butter. Whisk in the flour until the mixture is hot and bubbly. Gradually add the milk, whisking steadily. (I used two cups of milk to begin with and later, when the soup was finished, I thinned it with another cup or two of milk). Whisk in the cheese and salt. Add the broccoli and whisk to combine. At this point the soup will be quite thick. I added a couple cups of the reserved cooking liquid, and some more milk, but half-and-half and/or chicken broth would work, too.

This same time, years previous: the singing bowl, the quotidian (3.9.15), wintry days, work, mini merry maids, perfect pretzels, with a side of poison, blondies, meatballs.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (3.7.16), tradition, by the skin of my gritted teeth, girl party, to market, to market, the quotidian (3.5.12), oatcakes, bacon and date scones.