I'm ready to send away for the schematics for an ark. Lacking those instructions, maybe I could use some of the downed branches to build a raft. Not only did it rain all day yesterday, in the afternoon there was another spectacular downpour, accompanied by blinding lightning and deafening thunder claps. During that electrical display, I was speaking to my niece in New Hampshire, listening with sympathy as she described having to cancel a trip to Florida due to another two feet of snow on top of the six to eight feet already on the ground. We didn't talk long as the crackling in my ear had me envisioning electrocution by phone. The last few days have been tense.
In need of some comfort food, I looked for a recipe for potato soup.
Don't laugh; I have never made potato soup. Way back in time, a
sister-in-law made the best version of that dish and I didn't want to
compete. I scrapped the recipe I found as it began with "one slice of
bacon." Remembering the smoky flavor of my SIL's soup, I knew "one
slice" wasn't going to come close. Conferring with my niece and Linda,
chowder cooks both, I used their suggestions, added some twists of my
own, and indulged in a thick, creamy, bacon-rich bowl of warm heavenly