Skip to main content

Seasonal soup

I'm indebted to Aliche - long-time supporter of Washed and Ready - who sends me news of a sparkling piece of copy on the packaging of New Covent Garden's 'sweet, smoky and autumnal' Soup of the Month. Who could resist 'cheerful' orange pumpkins and softened haricot beans? Blended, of course, with carrots, oak-smoked garlic, smoked paprika and a warming hint of chilli.

On the side of the packet, readers are treated to the following seasonal blurb:

The gap-toothed pumpkins glow a ghoulish orange and the bonfire crackles with mischief when our marketing supremo, Andrew Ovens, holds his annual Halloween party. The centrepiece of Andrew’s Witches’ Oven (so-named by a waggish friend) is a cauldron of Pumpkin & Haricot Bean soup.

No eye of newt or toe of frog in this bubbling orange broth (so Andrew assures us), just masses of glorious smoky flavour. The trouble starts when party-goers gather round the cauldron to predict foul deeds in the coming weeks. Nothing fires the imagination on a damp and spooky autumn night as readily as a pot of Andrew’s soup.


From what Aliche says, New Covent Garden would be well advised to spend as much time on the soup as they do on their copy. She wasn't that impressed. Aliche's in my good books right now, because she thinks I look 25 in the photo from the Isle of Man (see blogs passim). She and I both know that I'm really well into my...er...my...early thirties.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Becoming a Twister board

I spent yesterday evening in an old factory building off Brick Lane playing kids' games with an organisation called Fun Fed. The idea is that a bunch of adults get together and act like children for a couple of hours. We played tag and stuck big coloured discs on ourselves so that we could become human Twister mats. There was an awful lot of running around and I was thinking that I ought to get to aikido a bit more often. Being a child is very hard work.

Buttahz

Belatedly made it to the excellent Evolving English exhibition at the British Library. When I arrived, I found a curator talking to a large group of inner-city London teenagers who'd come with their school. "How do you spell Butters ?" he was asking them. The kids volunteered different spellings of the slang term. Museum man then posed another question. "But you don't actually say it like that, do you?" He was referring, I think, to the glottal stop that replaces the t in London English, although phonetics isn't my strong point. The youth were sent off to record slang in a booth for posterity and my attention was drawn to another class. This group was much younger and seemed to attend an exclusive private school. "Joanna! Come over here and listen to a bit of Romeo and Juliet!" The precocious little kids ran hither and thither, listening to samples of regional dialects on a superb interactive display or speeches from statesmen such as JFK and ...

Captain Birdseye and other people of rank

Regular readers may recall that I once doubted the existence of Yeo Valley. I'd never heard of the Yeo mountain range and I therefore rated the likelihood of there being a valley at somewhere between 0 and 5%. Of course, I had yoghurt all over my face when I discovered that the place really does exist. Somewhere in Somerset, I seem to recall. Today, having read an article in the latest edition of The Marketer magazine, I'm astonished to discover that there really was a Captain Birdseye. Well, I need to qualify that just a little. There was a Mister Clarence Birdseye who invented the fish finger back in 1955. The avuncular, uniformed figure who dominated our TV screens for about thirty years may have been an invention of over-eager advertising creatives, but he didn't blow in on a trawler during a squall. There was actually some connection to a real human being. These revelations about fish and yoghurt are causing me considerable disquiet, because I'm wondering h...