You’ve got your onions, your bay leaves and chili powder, your 25 pounds of table salt.
Your buttermilk biscuits (because what is a biscuit without buttermilk?), your life imitating art – a pot of steaming soup underneath the Nikki McClure print of…lovely people eating steaming soup.
Your aerial view, your before, and your after.
I have to add this disclaimer: I almost never cook, especially soup. The occasional pot of chili in the crockpot, some salmon, chicken breasts in raspberry-balsamic sauce, rice & beans & sausage, a stir-fry. I probably bake two things for every meal I cook. When I do cook, though, I love it. I especially love phrases like “stir occasionally” which imply that you will spend much of the time reading a book. Or cleaning up, which I also strangely enjoy. Or preparing the biscuits for their transition into the oven. It just takes so much time. And planning. So I prefers things that leave delicious leftovers in their wake, like a ginormous pot of soup.