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Summer Tomato Soup

Leave the couch where you're fighting strep throat. Go to the garden. See the tomato plant fallen over, taking the reinforced cage with it. Sigh.

Instead of fixing the cage, pick all tomatoes you can find which are ripe. Get a rash on your arm from the plant.

Old picture. I'm getting very very lazy. Same variety, though.

Carry the tomatoes inside. Wash them and your arms.

Finely dice an onion. Put it in a pot with an unconscionable amount of butter. Saute on low.

Throw in half of a ripe red pepper, diced. Keep cooking on low.

Core about ten tomatoes, using that cool tool you call "The Claaaaawww" in a sinister voice as you chase the kids around with it.

Roughly chop the tomatoes.

Throw them in the pot with the onions. Walk away.

Hang out on the couch with your spouse. Read a book, knit, talk, whatever. When the youngest child says, "Shouldn't you stir these?" get up and stir them.

After they're all cooked, use an immersion blender to puree them off the heat.

Put a food mill with the tiny-holed disc over the new soup tureen from your mom. Process the puree into it.

Chiffonade a dozen or so basil leaves.

Toss some salt to taste into the soup. Throw the leaves on top.

Toast some walnuts in a dry pan. Chop some garlic finely. Add it to the walnuts. Cook a bit, then remove it all and chop everything up into crumb sized pieces, and put it in a bowl.

Bring the special bottle of olive oil to the table with the tureen and the walnut stuff. Ladle out the soup, top with olive oil and walnut mixture as desired.

 Watch as it gets gobbled up -- very quickly.

Listen to your husband say, "That was great soup, honey. Where's the rest of the meal?"

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