the guttermorality recipe of the day

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unlike my forebears, i am not an inspired cook, but i try to plod along as best i can.

take this, one of my favored recipes, for instance: it's one my mother offhandedly rattled off back when i was on my own for the first time and called to ask how to make her world-famous soup (she only makes one, but it's enough).

in the ensuing years, she's made countless refinements to the recipe, but i still stick with the version she gave me way back when--not only because i still love it after all this time, but because it never fails to blow away whomever i make it for.

oh, and because it's easy.

so when she asked me what i wanted for my last meal before she headed east with my sister, it was really no contest--and i made her stick to the original recipe, which goes something like this:

ma's beef-and-vegetable soup

ingredients:

1 lb. or so of stew meat, cut into 1/2" cubes--or if you're in a hurry, 90% lean hamburger [or if you're a pussy, i suppose you could use ground turkey] 

4-6 large carrots, chopped into chunks 

4-6 stalks celery, chopped into chunks 

one large white onion, quartered and sliced into 1/4" strips [unless you're having v over for dinner, because he's allergic] 

one large baking potato, peeled and cut into 1/2" cubes   

one large can of non-sweetened, non-creamed corn, drained   

one large can diced tomatoes

[anything else you wanna substitute or add, feel free--it's a pretty forgiving soup]

here's the procedure:

toss the meat into a large pot with barely enough water to cover and boil until the meat's about medium, at which point you pour in the secret ingredient--oh wait, did i fail to mention this already?--which is

one quart of V-8 vegetable juice [yeah, i know, but trust me--cook without prejudice]

once it all starts to bubble, add the carrots (because they take the longest to cook); and then, once they begin to soften, add the potatoes, celery and onion.

once the potatoes are soft, drop the heat, add the corn and tomatoes, and then add salt and (lots of) pepper to taste.

and then serve to your awestruck guests, who, trust me, will think you are a goddam culinary genius.

[accessory dishes: if you're south of the mason-dixon line, cornbread is pretty much de rigueur; if you're in a pinch or merely a yankee, saltines will suffice.]

i'll miss you, ma, but at least you left me something to remember you by--for the rest of the week, anyway.