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The Soup Monologues By Tom Field Email: tknightfield at hotmail dot com (above email address formatted to reduce spam) August 21, 2008 This is not an ad for, or an endorsement of, Wolfgang Puck's All Natural Signature Recipe Chicken Tortilla Soup, although it's true, I did, once upon a time, purchase some. Not at one of Wolfgang's trendy restaurants in L.A. like Spago, where celebrities and their ilk dine on, (among other things) Chana Dal Lentils Eggplant-Challot Masala, and Spinach-Ricotta Gnocchi with Ragout Of Braised Sonoma Lamb, (Waiter! Are you absolutely certain this lamb was born and bred in Sonoma?!). My tortilla soup came in a can, and I got it at a Tom Thumb supermarket in Dallas, Texas. I can't tell you if it was any good or not, because the truth is, I don't know. I never opened the can. It sits in pristine condition in my kitchen cabinet to this day, way in the back, behind other, out of the rotation items, such as a jar of stuffed olives and a tin of anchovies, constituting a sort of weird food purgatory. I can't say exactly what was going through my mind when I bought this soup. I wasn't starting a collection of celebrity soups, or hoping to hang on to it long enough to someday go on the Antiques Road Show to be told, (to my astonished delight), that this line of tortilla soups is very rare, much coveted by old soup aficionados worldwide, and would bring big bucks if sold at auction, also, well done keeping it in such an unopened, unspoiled, condition! No, I'm sure it was just an impulse buy, and even though I don't recall, I can imagine this scenario. I was at the store to get essentials such as non-fat milk, pet food, designer coffee, frozen waffles etc., and happened to find myself in the soup aisle. Perhaps I glanced over at the huge wall of cans and came to the immediate conclusion that it might not be a bad idea to start eating more soup, and right now! Among the countless selections, (Campbell's Old fashioned New England Clam Chowder, Progresso's Hearty Minestrone), my attention focused laser-like on the can of Wolfgang Puck's All Natural Signature Recipe Chicken Tortilla Soup. Maybe it was the bright red can that caught my eye. Aha! Chicken tortilla soup from Wolfgang Puck, I thought. Presumably the same tortilla soup served at the famous Mansion on Turtle Creek, where Puck was an apprentice chef under local legend Dean Fearing. For a time, it seemed you couldn't swing a cat around here without hitting someone going on about the wonders of this tortilla soup. Of course, I'd never had the pleasure or means to sample the real thing in the Mansion's swanky dining room. This was probably the closest I'd ever get. I grabbed the the can and tossed it in my cart. Later on, I had a chance to inspect it closer. Let me give you an excruciatingly detailed description of the label. As previously noted, it is a shade of neon red so vivid it almost glows. On the front, (how does something round have a front?) is an image of Wolfey himself, looking directly at the camera with a very Puckish grin on his face. He's not just happy, he's positively beside himself with excitement, as if his life, (and your own) will be transformed in a totally transcendent and fulfilling way by consuming this stuff. Wolfgang is wearing his white, double breasted chef smock , which gives him the professional look of a doctor or a priest. Over this image is the signature of the title, written in an artistically legible flourish. He obviously didn't sign each can separately, but he has had his signature copyrighted, so don't even think about going around writing Wolfgang Puck's name on things. Behind him is a picture of the soup itself. In proportion to Puck, there's enough soup to fill a medium sized swimming pool. He could easily jump in and take a dip, using the huge spoon as a diving board. The soup itself is another matter completely. Whereas traditional tortilla soup resembles a clear chicken broth, with slices of avocado and thin ribbons of chips on top, this soup looks like nothing more or less than Alpo dog food. It's brown and opaque, with chunky things, stuck like mammoths in tar, struggling on the surface. On one side of the label is a small story concerning Puck and his soups. It summarizes W.P.'s many claims to fame; the founding of the aforementioned Spago, host of two hit T.V. shows, bestselling author, before crowning him , "America's most famous chef". This epic tale goes on to explain how W.P. hand selected all of the natural ingredients, from the chicken, to the red bell peppers, to the touch of jalepeno. It wraps up by telling me that the most important ingredient is, (I'm not making this up) "lots of good old fashioned love". Old fashioned love, not to be confused with the new-fangled, screwed up variety. Yes, lots of love and smaller portions of yeast extract, maltodextrin, oleoresin, calcium chloride, and about 300 other ingredients. Further study reveals that of the 145 calories, roughly a third of it comes from fat, plus 9 grams of sugar, and 15 milligrams of cholesterol. The topper is the salt , a whopping 40 percent , or 950 milligrams. Not that any of this matters, I don't think I'll ever actually open and eat my soup, even though with a recommended use-by date of 2012, I have a few years yet to decide. The fact is, somewhere along the way the initial spell wore off, and now I want nothing whatsoever to do with the stuff. It represents a strange phobia or unexplainable mental block for me at this point, and even though I salute the chickens and veggies that gave their lives, the wonder of Wolfgang Puck's All Natural Signature Recipe Chicken Tortilla Soup is destined to remain vacuum sealed inside it's bright red neon home, behind the idiotically grinning mug of you know who, in perpetual limbo at the back of my pantry, until the day I summon the courage to either eat it, get rid of it, or leave it as an oddball legacy to my astonished and baffled progeny. About the author: Still down here in Texas doing my thing. This one was a bit of a lark really, I wanted to see just how far I could take a riff on something as innocuous and mundane as a simple can of soup. Author's note: No cats were swung during the writing of this story. | | | |
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