The Virgin Gets Down & Dirty with Rachael Ray's Loaded Potato Soup
|This Virgin's one smooth operator.|
I suck at cooking -- or rather, as a Facebook friend pointed out, suck at cooking anything that doesn't come out of a box, bag or kit -- and have resolved to learn to prepare decent meals in 2011. This week, I tackled a recipe for Potato Soup with The Works courtesy of the always smiling, dog-loving daytime diva Rachael Ray. She's a self-taught home cook who takes tons of shortcuts. How hard could it be?
Read on and see me weep...
|This little piggy went right into the pot.|
•8 slices bacon, chopped
•4 leeks, green parts removed and discarded, white parts chopped
•4-5 cloves garlic, chopped
•8 sprigs fresh thyme, leaves removed from stems
•1 tablespoon paprika, plus additional for garnish
•Salt and freshly ground black pepper
•4 pounds Russet potatoes, peeled and chopped
•1 1/2 quarts chicken stock
•A dash of hot sauce (optional)
•1 cup shredded New York-style cheddar cheese
•1 cup shredded Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
•Scallions, for garnish
•Sour cream, for garnish (optional)
The Virgin's DeStructions:
Per Rachael Ray's directions, I started by browning the bacon in a large stockpot. OK. How the heck do you dice flabby, fatty slabs of bacon? Every attempt I made resulted in gross looking white strings, so finally I gave up and just shredded the shit with my hands. Good thing bacon tastes awesome no matter what it looks like. I cooked the bacon for about five minutes, until it was golden brown. Soon my bacon was resting on a paper towel to the side, while a puddle of thin brown grease began congealing in the bottom of the pot.
|I sense a knife skills class in the Virgin's future.|
While frantically trying to keep the grease from burning in the bottom of my pot (which I eventually removed from the heat), I diced up the leeks and garlic and started peeling the potato. As I attempted to slide my pitiful $2 Wal-Mart special kitchen knife into a leek, my husband grimaced and braced to dial 9-1-1. My eyes began to water from the leeks and I could hardly see my fingers. "Honey, leeks are related to onions, you know," I heard over my shoulder.
Thanks, Captain Freaking Obvious!