everything but the kitchen sink soup

Alas it befalls me to tell the tale of lunch. It is one of those days wherein lunch must be made. Mike is, again, sleeping. I should point out here that Mike is not lazy. Rather, he works while the rest of us sleep and so must sleep when we are up and about in the day time. Anyway, It was the middle of the day. I am still recuperating from a violent bout of asthmatic bronchitis or as I like to call it, pneumonia. And yet I am hungry. I think that some of the meds make me more so.
The fridge is a fright. There- it is out. There are things in that crisper that should never be named. I beheld the spectacle with woe (and hunger) and no small amount of fear. And then, armed with the ever present fat free half and half, and left over chicken broth, I resolved to make the soon to be famous, 'everything but the kitchen sink soup.'
There was asparagus and garlic and broccoli. there was a pepper and some grapes. No silly, I did not use the grapes. One does not add grapes to the soup unless one comes from the west coast. There were a few desultory apples. There was a longish portion of baguette left from the once and former accidental potato soup, which might make rather nice croutons if coated with some olive oil, mustard powder, onion, dried basil and dusted with parmesan.
And the carrots were still crisp enough to be lightly steamed and served just so.
And behold: there was lunch.
While I was about lunch, I found some prehistoric filo dough in the freezer and resolved to make use of those three slightly shriveled apples to concoct what can loosely be called dessert. I am no master of filo dough and my hat is off to the chefs who make it look easy to roll up some chopped apples and hazelnuts with nary a shred in the fine leafs and make it look wonderful. But I will say it was not actually on the plates long enough for us to bemoan its lack of gustatorial beauty.
And so you have the tale of lunch. And the fridge is clean.