Whiny Soup

I had a great time at Orycon! I’m a little worn out, since my job has me working off-site at the moment, rehousing a collection, so there’s more travel time and learning about resources at the new location. But I thought I’d share with you the latest in what is apparently becoming a continuing series on con hotel restaurant food. (The saga of FlatPie is thisaway)

I ordered Sweet Onion soup at the hotel restaurant, on the strength of the fact that I like French Onion soup, and I love to cook with sweet onions in place of regular onions, so two united must be even BETTER. The soup lost something in the execution, however. It tasted overwhelmingly of red wine, and if I wanted to eat heated red wine with some onions in it, I would have heated red wine–

Well, no, I won’t have heated red wine, because that’s crazy, and also it doesn’t taste very good. I commented to my tablemates that it was too wine-y, when they asked my opinion, but given the volume of conversation around us, and the fact that the extra letter is silent anyway, they took it for whiny soup. Which is a rather disturbing sort of image. Everyone wants to eat me, no one thinks about what I want. What if I wanted to continue aging until I was a famous vintage instead of being used as cooking wine? What if I wanted to be stored in a forgotten cellar until I was discovered centuries later and went for millions at auction? What, you’re saying that couldn’t happen? Why are you so meeeeean? Why are you picking on meeeeee?

I don’t think I’d want to eat that soup either.