Is Cheeseburger Soup Enough?


I love simple food. I could live off warm toast smothered with creamy butter. Tangy crisp green apples. Field cucumbers sprinkled with salt. Ice cold milk generously poured over crunchy cereal flakes at 11 pm.

And cheeseburger soup.

Cheeseburger soup is a liquid hug. It’s ground beef and chopped celery, shredded carrots and melt-in-your-mouth potatoes, all swirling in savory cheesy goodness. Paired with fluffy biscuits (those ones in the tube), and I’m as satisfied as I imagine Martha Stewart is after her Tuscan kale with orecchiette.

But cheeseburger soup is why I don’t have people over for dinner.

You see, I’m supposed to prepare something containing a dozen syllables and multiple courses for company. A dish that includes fennel or persimmons or Swiss chard. Dumping ingredients unceremoniously into a pot just doesn’t cut it.

Adding further shame to my hospitality game is that this is the area us church ladies are expected to thrive in. Our front doors thrown open wide to the masses, steaming casseroles at the ready, floors as squeaky clean as our brilliant white smiles.

Martha would be an amazing church lady. I can just imagine her reaction to receiving surprise dinner guests:

“Company? How divine! I’ve been meaning to try out my roasted acorn squash pasta. I’ll simply change out of my Prada into my Chanel, invite 50 more guests, and see that InStyle pops in to photograph it for their next issue! And I’ll still have plenty of time to whip up my famous white chocolate ganache.”

And then there’s my welcoming reaction:

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I was planning to polish off the kids’ nugget leftovers for dinner. There’s nothing in the fridge. I have to sneak out to the grocery store and buy something appropriate. What do people eat? I have no idea what people eat. When was the last time I scrubbed the toilet? It’s a bad sign that I can’t remember. Shoot, have I not been wearing a bra this whole time?”

Commence total meltdown.

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