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Green Peas and Kale Soup

Soups are sort of boring…but very nutritious.

I like them anyway.

The question is always the same: what would you  have them with? Well, I would say something crunchy like bread and something uplifting to watch. I like having soups with ‘It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia’. The gang running an Irish pub called Puddy’s Pub in Philadelphia always cheers me up. They are a manipulative, dishonest, egotistic bunch, just like everyone around you is trying to be but not always succeeding. Because being selfish, lazy and ignorant is one thing but manipulative, unethical and good at it is something else. Watching the gang’s shenanigans and questionable behaviour gives me comfort. I feel almost like they are my family, and honestly, I would love to be a part of their gang, because they are really entertaining. I would rather be surrounded by a lively, openly dishonest and selfish group than people fancying themselves as a gentle and delicate flower and then stabbing you with the most insensitive comment.

sunny

Peas and Kale Soup:

green peas and kale soup

green peas and kale soup

2 potatoes

2 leeks

1 carrot

4 cups peas (you can use frozen)

200 g kale

3 tbsp olive oil

1 l water

1 l vegetable stock

salt

pepper

chopped parsley

rocket

1.  Wash and cut into 2 cm pieces leeks. Heat olive oil in a pot. Add leeks. On a low heat sweat them until soft.

2. Add cubed potatoes and carrots. Fry on a low heat for 5-10 minutes. Add stock and water.

3. Simmer till vegetables start getting soft. Add peas and kale. Simmer until all the vegetables are soft. Add salt and pepper.

4. Carefully liquidize your soup in a blender (or using hand blender). If your soup is too thick, add more liquid. Add parsley. When serving, add a handful of rocket onto your plate before pouring your soup. Enjoy! And be a Dayman.

green peas and kale soup

 green peas and kale soup

DSC06537

Dayman (ah-ah-ah)
Fighter of the Nightman (ah-ah-ah)
Champion of the Sun (ah-ah-ah)
You’re a Master of Karate
And Friendship
For Everyone!

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About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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