Long winter afternoon. Colours muted. Browns, soft greens; a dying sunset. Cold.

      An evening or several like this gave rise to steam coming from my favorite red soup kettle. To me, soup must be nearly the ultimate comfort food. So warm, so flavorful, and yet so down-to-earth. 

      And mushrooms.

      Please make this soup. Slowly, while listening to music properly mournful. Then slice your baguettes (homemade gets a high five, but from the local bakery is perfect too) and brie, and try not to consume everything...