Cheesy Chowder

Today I made a cheesy potato chowder. It was distantly related to a recipe my mother uses to make a cheese and sausage soup, but by now there are so many degrees of separation, not even Kevin Bacon could connect it back to the original recipe. Okay...I know...lame joke, degrees of separation, sausage, bacon...so sue me.

Anyway, I used a very sharp cheddar and there were red potatoes, carrots from one of The Southerner's gardening pals, onions from The Southerner himself, and a few other secret ingredients. It was a big hit, despite the fact that it was a pretty warm day today.

Nary a Steve to be seen this week, but the crowd that was here is beginning to resemble "regulars" which is kind of neat. And there was plenty of soup with just a little left over for me and The Southerner to have for lunch tomorrow. We had a moment of panic when it looked like Calvin's perfect record had come to an end. It was way after six before he showed up for his dose of catnip, although Carol showed up on time, keeping her flawless attendance record intact.

The bread was an Irish Whole Wheat Herb Soda bread, made from a recipe; one I was a bit wary of following, actually, because it had herbs like basil, thyme, and sage, but also a bit of brown sugar and dried currants. It was like it couldn't decide if it wanted to be sweet or savoury. In the end, it was just delicious and everyone agreed it was a hit.

The only problem with the bread is the name. I'm still having trouble with the word "herb" because when I lived in England after college, one of my friends teased me relentlessly about pronouncing it the American way with a silent "h". So, being the conformist that I am, I quickly started pronouncing it the British way. And then, years later, I married The Southerner and he would not STOP harassing me about being all hoity-toity and fake British, so I switched back to the American silent "h". And now, here we are in Canada, and they say it the British way! I cannot win! I am going with the voiced "h". When in B.C., do as the British Columbians do, I say. Don't even get me started on the word "scone".

It's actually raining now that everyone's gone home. In the four months that we've done Sunday Soup, we've only ever had to eat it inside once, so if you run into any locals, don't let them fool you into thinking it rains here all the time. The clouds are way too high for that.