Lentil Soup

Not everything was beautiful in Paris . . .

Living in Paris was an education for my Husby.

On so many levels.

Picture it:

Young men between the ages of 19 and 21, most away from home for the first time.

Many of who have never done their own cleaning or laundry.

And only the very basic of cooking.

Scary, isn’t it?

Like I said . . . an education.

Fortunately for the other seven young men in his apartment, my Husby did know how to cook.

The problem was, it wasn’t always his turn.

Others needed their chance.

Oh, woe . . .

It was Hanson’s turn to cook.

Something that only came around every eighth week.

Which may explain why all of the young men returned home alive.

Ahem . . .

Hanson had made his specialty. Lentil soup.

Which contained lentils.

And water.

But nothing else.

Also missing was the all-important ‘flavor’.

I should mention here that Hanson was alone in calling it ‘soup’.

Seven young men were gathered around the great dining room table for dinner. I should mention here that one end of their long table had been pushed against the outside wall just below a large casement window which stood open in the pleasant summer air.

Just FYI.

 It had been a long and busy day.

All were hungry and casting yearning eyes toward the kitchen.

Finally, Hanson emerged, triumphantly carrying the pot containing the much-anticipated meal.

He set it down and removed the lid.

Seven anxious noses sniffed the air.

Seven noses came up empty.

“’Lentil soup’ again,” one of them said, sighing.

“Yeah,” Hanson said, grinning. “Help yourselves. I made lots.”

The first victim young man took a helping from the pot and passed it along.

The second followed his lead.

As did the third.

Finally, it reached Davies, seated next to the window.

He peered into the pot and made a face. Then he lifted it and before anyone could protest or even make a sound, he simply tossed it and its contents through the window.

It landed upside down on the lawn.

Where it sat for several days until someone finally got the courage to go out and retrieve.

Hanson was thereafter (good word) relieved of any future cooking duties.

It was just safer.

For everyone.

And especially Hanson.

You know, I was just thinking . . . it’s been forty years. I think Husby might nearly be ready to try lentils again.

I’ll let you know how it goes.