When I was a junior in high school, I had to have surgery on my jaw which required my jaw to be wired shut for six weeks. (The details behind this surgery are both graphic and boring, so I'll spare you.) Unfortunately, my mom insisted that I have the surgery done over Christmas break, which meant that not only would I not get to miss any school, but my Christmas break was ruined as well.
Having your jaw wired shut sucks. I wanted real food, but I had to settle for liquids. I was confined to soup, and what's worse, if the soup had any solid in it (like chicken or noodles), I had to run it through the blender. Being 17, grouchy, and spoiled, I refused to perform this task myself and insisted my mom do it for me. One day, maybe a week after the surgery, I was hungry and went to find something to "eat". I opened the pantry and looked at the soup selection, searching for some tomato soup since my mom wans't home to run the blender for me. Since it was the holiday season, my grandma was visiting, and she came into the kitchen to find me looking for food.
"What are you looking for, dear," she asked.
"Just some tomato soup," I replied (or tried to reply, since I was talking with my teeth forcefully clenched together), scanning the giant soup selection my mom had stockpiled, "But I don't see any."
"I can make you some," she said, and before I could say anything she shooed me off to the couch while she made me what I thought was going to be homemade tomato soup.
I expected it to take a while, but it would be worth the wait, I figured. Then, to my surprise, two minutes later my grandma walked into the room carefully holding a steaming hot mug. I was confused because she was done so quickly, and I tried to figure out an explanation. Maybe there was some leftover in the fridge, I thought. Or maybe she keeps a spare can in her purse. Whatever the explanation was, I was hungry and eagerly took the mug from her.
I took a sip (since I had to drink everything) as my grandma looked on in anticipation, and I nearly gagged. "Grandma, what is this," I asked as some hot red liquid dribbled out of my mouth and onto my shirt. "It's disgusting."
As she began her explanation, I heard the three words that my sisters and I dreaded hearing the most from her: "During the depression." She went on to explain that in the 1930's, when men wanted a hot meal but had no money, they would go into a coffee shop and get a cup of hot water for a penny. Then, they would put ketchup in the water and stir it up, making a crude tomato soup. Finally, she told me, they would crumble crackers in it and viola!, hot tomato soup.
I looked at my sweet old grandmother for a moment, and said "Grandma, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment. But it's the 90's, the economy is robust, and there is a whole cabinet full of real soup." And with that, I got up and set out to teach myself how to use the blender.
