Soup Night: The Afterglow

Last week, that little rat Punxatawny Phil predicted we'd have an early spring. Now, I'm no Al Roker, but the lingering mound of snow outside my front door and the jagged frozen death-sicles hanging from my back deck tell me that winter is far from over (insert a Snooki "WAH!" here). And since frigid temperatures render me practically housebound on the weekends, I decided to welcome a few people into my cave as I hibernate for winter. I made three pots of soup, picked up some bakery bread and lit some scented candles. This mama bear knows how to par-tay.  

Good bloggers take photos of food laid out real pretty with patterned cloth napkins and sexy natural light. I'm starting to get real lax with this kind of stuff, cause sometimes I just want to throw out mismatched bowls and a bucket of bread and be done with it. Taking photos of everything becomes a little tedious at times and definitely keeps me from living in the moment. Anyone else who blogs about food (or anything, really) ever feel this way? Bueller? Bueller?

So if you'll forgive me, there will be no pretty pictures of steam rising out of soup bowls or a long table decked out in colorful fabric. My aim for the evening was sharing cozy time with good friends who never mind if the food looks pretty or not. These are pictures I snapped thoughtlessly the morning after. They are virtual leftovers, if you will.

 My friends seem to get a kick out of when I label food, even if it's just a piece of construction paper pointing to the soup pot below.

These compound butters were darn impressive looking before we slathered them on crusty bread. If you have some softened butter laying around, you'd be wise to mix in the following combinations:

* brown sugar + crushed pecans

* fresh thyme + garlic + salt and pepper

* mixed herbs (You can use anything really, but I did dried basil, parsley, and oregano)

* cumin + chili powder +garlic (this one was surprisingly great)

I made sugar cookies with dried lavender and mint-chocolate cupcakes. They were delicious, and I'd show you prettier, close-up shots of these goodies if my friends and I hadn't been so busy stuffing our faces with them.  I like good food, but I like good friends better. And they were hungry.

 And thirsty.

 Good friends keep on chatting away in your living room, even when you turn into this after midnight.

And good friends know exactly what to bring as a hostess gift.