The following is an interview I conducted with Becca Long. In the interests of disclosure, I should note that I do have an ongoing, frequently non-platonic relationship with her.

A Gastronomic Conversation with Becca R. Long About Soup, and Love.

One.

You made a delicious dish for supper tonight,
I stated accurately.
Which was a refreshing change from the ill-advised Carrot Apple Lasagna you made recently. What is your new concoction called?

Vegetable chowder,
Becca says.

Our daughter chimes in, something she is good at doing:
It's called 'Vegetable Soup Dish!'

Yep. That works. Vegetable Soup Dish.

Two.

What inspired you to invent this?
I ask.
Describe three inspirations. If you want, you can include Joan of Arc, or Noah.

Okay,
she says. One would be hunger.
Two would be cold weather. Three....hmmm. Unconsciously, I suppose...Joan of Arc.

That makes sense.
I said truthfully.

Three.

What is in the soup?
I ask casually.

She thinks for a few seconds:
Potatoes. Carrots. Corn. Salt. Water. Lawry's seasoning. Dill. Poultry seasoning. Cashews blended up. A smidge of flour and corn starch to thicken. A little black pepper. Garlic powder. Some almond milk.

Four.

Okay. So, no magic ingredient, like love?
I ask warmly.

Uhh, a bit of chaos and compassion,
she says.

That doesn't make sense,
I inform her, but inside, I know she’s right.

Five.

What is the secret trick to making a good pot of soup?
I ask.

It's a secret.
she says saucily.

Oh.
I say, saddened, yet somehow emboldened by her enigma.

Six.

What do your children think of the soup?
I ask.

Well,
she considers carefully.
Our 17-month old boy scarfed it down. And our four-year old girl loves it.

The daughter referenced above leaps in:
It's much better than Mama's lasagna. I call it 'Vegetable Soup Dish.'

I know.
I tell her firmly.

Seven.

What music would you recommend listening to with this soup?

The four-year old pops in again.
I was going to say Kimya Dawson, but then I couldn't remember her name.

Back to Becca.
A few ballads by Jeremy M. Long.
she says.
And Sigur Ros.

Eight.

If you had to survive on only one vegetable for an entire year, what would you choose?
I ask.

Maybe red potatoes for versatility,
she responds carefully.
But spinach would be a close second.

Nine.

What is your favourite colour of bowl to eat out of?
I ask.

She ponders longer than necessary.
Green, red, and aqua blue. Bright fiesta colours.

Ten.

How long did it take you to prepare the soup?
I ask.

Fifteen minutes,
she says.
Maybe twenty. Washing, peeling, chopping, seasoning. Then I let it simmer for about 30 minutes or so.

Eleven.

What sort of food, coupled with minimal exercise, would help me get abs like Ryan Gosling?
I ask.

She sighs deeply and smiles in a way I have seen only a few times.

Fresh vegetable juice and minimal processed foods.
she says,

pausing for another deep sigh, and big mysterious smile.

I nod knowingly, and nod in affirmation.
Thank you for chatting with me, Dear.

You're welcome, Dear,
she says.

——

Note: I kept eating, and eating, and eating. The soup was delicious, and Becca is not even listening right now. In fact, I am planning to sneak out of bed tonight and help myself to a 2 a.m. snack. In a blue bowl.

——

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