Bird filled his hands with several little metal cans and dumped them on the counter. "Now, Nickie, I think a good soup is a lot like life," he said, adding a pinch, a dash or a sprinkling of each herb to the pot. "It starts out with the same broth for everybody but it's what you do to it that makes it good soup. . . "
". . . As I was saying, you've got a choice. You can have a bland bowl of broth like everyone else," he plopped the onions into the pot, "or you could cook up an exciting soup!" He offered Nickie the knife and set her chopping the mushrooms. Max rolled his eyes but kept his peace.
"My soup is pretty flavorless," she said.
"Okay, then be inventive!" Bird said, his head in the refrigerator again. "Gotta take some chances!" He pulled out a plastic lemon and squeezed a shot into the broth pot. "And forget the rules! Make up your own!" said Bird. . .
. . . Bird scooped up the mushrooms and threw them into the pot and turned up the heat. "Look for ingredients you have handy, things only you can supply – then go for it!"
"But what if you don't have much to work with?" said Nickie.
"Don't make barriers for yourself," Bird said, stirring the soup. "And don't settle for what's expected of you. Try the unexpected!" He tossed up the egg, cracked it one-handed against the edge of the pot and sent it flying into the broth.
Nickie laughed. "Pretty fancy," she said.
"Pretty fun – if you're willing to take a chance," Bird said. He closed his eyes and poured in a dollop of wine. And if you fail, well, you can always cook up a new chicken."
Nickie bent over the pot and inhaled the savory steam. "Aren't you making too big a deal over just soup?"
"Nope. Your soup – or your life – can be a modest meal or a splendid feast. It's all up to you." He lifted the spoon dramatically and flourished it in the air. "The possibilities are endless and the rewards are great."
Hmmmm . . . I'm thinking a nice pot of soup sounds really good right about now.