My friend Steve invited me to join him on an airport run to Missoula the other day, creating a rare non-weekend out-of-town dining opportunity. I had a fantastic pork chop sandwich (a transplanted Butte specialty), but the soup was only average. It was black bean, which I usually like, but this version was a bit too spicy hot, so much so that it overwhelmed the creamier features of the soup. In fact I had to do something that I rarely resort to: I dumped in a whole bunch of oyster crackers to dilute the heat. To be fair, this was a sports bar on Monday night, so I'm sure the clientele was inclined to favor the spicier fare, and maybe it wouldn't have bothered me if I was there to watch football too. But we were visiting (Steve's friend Chandra is a Nepali outdoorsman in the US to promote his wilderness leadership institute), and so a burning tongue was a bit of an impediment. Oh well, the company was good (even better than the sandwich).
Friday, October 14, 2011
Soup Diary 111014
My friend Steve invited me to join him on an airport run to Missoula the other day, creating a rare non-weekend out-of-town dining opportunity. I had a fantastic pork chop sandwich (a transplanted Butte specialty), but the soup was only average. It was black bean, which I usually like, but this version was a bit too spicy hot, so much so that it overwhelmed the creamier features of the soup. In fact I had to do something that I rarely resort to: I dumped in a whole bunch of oyster crackers to dilute the heat. To be fair, this was a sports bar on Monday night, so I'm sure the clientele was inclined to favor the spicier fare, and maybe it wouldn't have bothered me if I was there to watch football too. But we were visiting (Steve's friend Chandra is a Nepali outdoorsman in the US to promote his wilderness leadership institute), and so a burning tongue was a bit of an impediment. Oh well, the company was good (even better than the sandwich).
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