The Modern Peasant's Guide to Life and Eating: Chapter 1

Every four years or so, the shit hits the fan. I'm not proud of this, or anything. However, for reasons seemingly outside of my control, four years of relatively healthy and productive living are squandered, defiled, and transformed into so much fecal matter that gets sent spraying across the room. I don't know why I do it. I can't afford basic health services—So who can say? All I can do is observe and narrate the very real pathology and the damage it leaves in its wake.

This time it was a three day drunken bender with a clinically identified manic-depressive from work, which resulted in disgusting proportions and many painful outcomes, not the least of which was the crippling heartache it afforded my boyfriend.

The onset of this explosive acting out always manifests itself in the same way: a general restlessness and profound boredom with routines and activities that usually afford pleasure, followed by an almost entire abandonment of those routines and activities; the seeking out of new and/or heady experiences: drinking and dancing, overdone theatrics when interacting with others; and, finally, the complete surrender to the grossest demands of the id that inevitably result in poorly maintained hygiene, among other degradations.

Needless to say, this kind of month long spiral leaves little room or money left for basic necessities. The inability to concentrate when in this state coupled with the excessive living will leave you waking up one day on the path to recovery with a virtually empty cupboard and little left to improve that condition. What does the modern, mentally inept peasant do? How do you feed yourself when you're left with the remains of a life you spent pissing away in a lover's bedroom trashcan when he's out working and while his ex-wife/roommate storms in the next room because, in your highly inebriated state, you found it hard to not bump into things in the dark and be as quiet as was advisable and she now knows you're there?

While there are many answers to theses question, ranging from the debauched (become the street person you always suspected you were and just eat the garbage and soup kitchen food they do) to the pathetic (call up a friend or family member to borrow money for food...again) there is one choice left to you that still retains some shred of the gutsy, self-reliant tenacity and indomitability that we, as a country, were at least were really good at telling oursevles we had in abundance—do it yourself. Even when it appears that there is nothing left, something good, if not grand, can be made, with a little creativity and a humilifying dose of acceptance.

It's time to build anew. And, maybe, just maybe, we can just keep building this time and avoid the razing.

I really hate that part.

You should too.

Bender Soup

Bender Soup is made entirely with what little was left in the kitchen, freezer, and pantry. After this particular bender, I found myself without a car, so supplemental food stuffs weren't an option for me. That being said, my boyfriend did bring home some Parmesan cheese, crusty bread, and beer to round the meal. However, I know that even that kind of meal supplementation may be beyond the reach of those less fortunate. No worries. In such cases, the soup is quite capable of standing alone. Let's get started.

I'm a vegetarian, so, I tend to have a lot of fresh and frozen vegetables around. If you're not a mentally incompetent vegetarian, I don't know that a literal relationship with my recipes will work for you. If you're competent, you probably have a wide array of foodstuffs at home available to you since you haven't spent the last two hours in a public park while your bender partner helps his other ex-wife change a tire and you're being chatted up by some corpulent, cigarette smoking limo driver of questionable intentions. Those kinds of situations, interactions, and time-wasters stop all quotidian behaviors—like grocery shopping—dead in their tracks. Furthermore, if you eat meat, we may have little to nothing in common in our sparse, post-bender cupboards. However, an internalization of the overall agenda might work for you, even if all other things considered do not.

Anyway, being a vegetarian naturally means that there are always lots of veggies in my house. But when you've abandoned your life for the compulsive sensations of the vortex, those fresh veggies suffer. When returning to my life, I found that a whole bunch of broccoli, though I tried to rescue them in a meal, had been sacrificed to my indulgence. Tragic. But broccoli is a sensitive, fickle thing. It doesn't take abandonment or abuse well. Modern varieties of tomatoes, carrots, bell peppers—these are hardier veggies capable of withstanding the brunt of terrific neglect, and as the dust settled, I found that they, along with some canned and frozen veggies, some spices, and some elbow noodles, were transformed into a satisfying soup.

Ingredients (but, as you'll find, you'll just use whatever you have on hand; it's your life.):

5 to 6 cups of fresh tomatoes (a bit tasteless from having spent too much time in the fridge, but you deal)

3 to 4 cups of bell pepper

0 cups of onions (I didn't have any, but they would've been really, really nice.)

2 to 3 cups of carrots

1 or 3/4 a head of garlic

2 to 3 cups cooked elbow noodles

1 and 1/2 cups frozen lima beans (protein!)

2/3 cup of frozen peas

2/3 cup of frozen corn

1 28 oz. can of crushed tomatoes

3 to 4 cans of water (got broth or bouillon, use it!)

spices to taste

3 to 4 tablespoons of sugar

Recipe:

I chunked the Roma tomatoes and left the grape tomatoes whole. Cook the tomatoes in a saute pan with olive oil. Add spices that you have. I had some basil, Old Bay seasoning, cayenne pepper, a little salt (my salt was almost gone), all of the sugar, and some Mrs. Dash tomato basil seasoning. Oregano would have been nice. Let them cook down real soft, and then puree them.

Meanwhile, dice the bell pepper, ribbon the carrots (I had week-overdue carrot chips left on hand), mince the garlic and then saute them in olive oil until tender. Puree half of the veggies.

Cook the elbow noodles according the package's al dente preference.

Put all of the fresh veggies (pureed and whole) into a pot with the crushed tomatoes and water. Let them simmer for approximately 30 to 45 minutes.

Then add all of your frozen veggies, the elbow noodles, a splash of vinegar and Worcestershire, and you're done! You made soup! The horizon is yours, and you can put to rest those nightmares where you're sleeping under a park bench!

At least for a little time.