I too, have been rushing through life lately, but not without stopping to smell - and eat - the soup... Some long overdue entries in the ongoing quest:
Jan. 30, Chicken Soup at L'Angolo's Cafe: After eating the single most disappointing piece of pizza I have ever had at a hole in the wall downtown, after attending my first - and also fairly disappointing - sample sale at the California Market Center, I stumbled upon this oasis on 9th and Main Streets in the heart of the garment district on the way back to my car and decided to stop in...
Since it was that limbo of a time, too late for lunch and too soon for dinner, I thought that soup would be the perfect transitional food... This one was a total surprise from the token bowl of broth that I expected... A classic golden soup held a piquant surprise while floating large chunks of breast meat, fresh red peppers, and tons of healthy and tasty spinaci... It was a soup, it was a salad... It was all things that made me happy... The friendly blue-eyed waiter looking after me to the strains of Sinatra didn't hurt either...
Although not exactly "spa food," the soup was restoring.. I tried to kick up the healthy factor with my afternoon green tea... But it was so restoring in fact, that I felt able to tackle a serving of tiramisu that could have easily served four... I upgraded my beverage to an Americano and reveled in the all-encompassing view of the gritty but gorgeous old buildings that I love in that part of town... And the thrill of mascarpone cheese and coffee...
Feb. 5, Provencal Fish Soup at the French Market Cafe: I had seen a review of the French Market Cafe that spoke right to me when it said that the staff didn't mind people who dined alone... I had been planning to go for weeks, maybe months, when it seemed like I always had someone with me when I went out and when I was alone, it was never convenient to schlep all the way to Abbott Kinney...
Finally, on the way home from a day of errands, I was able to make my way there after a visit to Ritual Adornments, one of my favorite bead shops in Santa Monica...
It was one of those Friday nights last month when it poured like crazy... Despite the weather, the place was pretty deserted for a Friday, but then again, 5:30 p.m. was probably pretty early to be eating dinner... A lone proprietor stood guard over the tiny shop of French sweets, pastries, and other comestibles... I figured I was to order at the counter, as Jolene and I had ordered sandwiches there last summer...
I was about to choose my default brew at such a place, the French onion soup... But then I saw something called "Provencale fish soup" and it sounded like an adventure.. I envisioned fish heads in a spicy broth and sauntered into the petite dining area, where a woman labored over a laptop and piles of papers... I mistook her for another diner but later realized that she was the manager or owner as she kept going into a back room to fetch this or that for her task...
When the fish soup arrived, I was surprised by what looked like a bowl of rusty-red curry sauce - until I got a whiff of its rich sea-like bouquet... I grew up eating all kinds of seafood, so I fear no fish... As a matter of fact, I could smell the unmistakable aroma of crabshells that were probably boiled down for the stock...
It was, like many of my favorite soups, complex... It was like a spicy crab bisque, accompanied by rounds of toasted baguette, a little cup of white cheese and another container of a sweetish pink mayonnaise... The cheese did give it a bit of texture as the soup's ingredients, while completely delicious, were pureed beyond recognition...
The cafe did finally start to fill up as the dinner hour officially approached and the rain diminished - then started in a downpour again, naturally, as I started to leave...
But it didn't matter, as I had the lovely warmth of a seaside soup in me, fortifying me from the elements and making me think of sunny days from my childhood when our parents would take us to the fish market at King Harbor in Redondo Beach... We would buy coppery-shelled crabs, fleshy mauve-hued squid, and the tender smelts that our dad would fry in batter and serve like they were French fries...
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