The Carrot and Coriander Soup with Soya Beans and Quorn is unpleasantly bitter, and the cause is very poor-quality ground coriander, and possibly too much of it as well.
This recipe doesn’t quite work, see https://ronsrants.wordpress.com/2015/03/16/not-happy-with-this-recipe/ for a fix. It works.
This is a rather more complex version of Carrot and Coriander which, while tasty, has a basic design fault in that it is low in protein, and I need it in spades.
To remedy that I’m adding organic split red lentils, and organic, pre-cooked, soya beans with a litre of their stock (not high in taste but it will have some useful protein). It’s also getting some Quorn Family Roast, arguably their best attempt at pretend chicken and, at 16.6% protein, a veggie’s friend.
The carrot side will be taken care of by 450g, unpeeled weight, of Sweet Spear that I’ve already dehydrated (dry weight a mere 35g), and crushed to crumbs – the theory being that it will enable me to cram in more carrot flavour. Coriander will stick with the usual script as a mix of fresh leaves and freshly-ground seed, about a third of each held back until the soup is almost finished, to freshen up the flavour.
Stock will be mainly vegetable with a touch of chicken (for a veggie version just omit the chicken stock and increase the veg).
There seems to be an outbreak of wheelchair-related fuckwittery on the Web, with the Moronic Tendency cleaving, as ever, to the view that one must be totally incapacitated to use a wheelchair. In much the same way as the moon is not made of green cheese, the Earth is not flat, and except in Saudi Arabia the Sun does not orbit the Earth, there’s a technical term for this belief – Complete and Utter Bollocks.
I’ve been an intermittent wheelie for nearly 30 years, and I’ve repeatedly run up against this lunacy which completely ignores the fact that were I to be totally incapacitated I couldn’t use a manual wheelchair. But then, when did logic feature in bigotry of any stripe?
So gather round and let me tell you my story in an attempt – probably futile, I know – to lighten your darkness.
>Trigger warning – suicide.<
Who, depending on his response, might soon become my former vascular surgeon. Doctors’ names have been redacted, no matter how justified I might be in publishing them – I still need them so would rather not piss them off just yet.
Dear Mr. Vascular Surgeon,
Re: Morphine Sulphate Oral Solution (Oramorph, for the sake of brevity),
In response to your request, my Zomorph was increased to 130mg b.d. after my last appointment. I am finding, however, that the expected reduction in pain and, thus, in my Oramorph consumption, is elusive.
Starting tomorrow, Monday, I’ll be exiled from my flat while my bathroom is converted into a wheelchair-friendly wet room. It’s already been postponed for the better part of a fortnight as I’ve been too ill to put up with the disruption. I did say that if they put it back too far I might be ill again and – Sod’s Law – I am, mainly because the ME part of my dismal package of fuckuppery responds very badly to stress (one of my neighbours who – and it beggars belief – decided to sit it out while chaos surged around him is now a wreck, in a permanent state of rage). Me, I’m getting as far away from it as possible. I’ll be able to sleep here, but that’s all.
I won’t be able to get into my flat during the day for the whole of next week as I’m having a wet room installed at last. I’ve not been able to use a bath for years as, even if I managed to get in, I don’t have the strength to get out again. A wet room and a shower wheelchair will solve that problem.
Today I’m making the following soup and tomorrow, all being well, I’ll make a cherry-laden fruit cake.
The idea of this soup, and my previous Chunky Beef and Bean Soup, is that by combining elements of a vegetarian recipe with meat, I can maximise my protein intake. As regulars might know, I have only one meal a day, and getting sufficient protein in a veggie diet is impossible, no matter how desirable it might be.
Towards the end of last year I made crutch holders for my manual wheelchair. Then, later, bought a pair of SmartCrutches which, because of their radically different design, dragged on the floor. I’ve finally got round to fixing that.
These are my SmartCrutches. As you can see they differ substantially from normal forearm crutches, not least in that the hand grip isn’t attached to the shaft. And no, I don’t have blue carpet and pink furniture – these were taken in the communal lounge.
What follows is a letter to the hospital in a last-ditch attempt to stop them giving me OPD appointments that I cannot possibly keep as they are far too early.
The Vascular Clinic, in particular, is a serial offender. In 2013, as I was leaving the clinic, they gave me an 08.30 appointment. I said it was too early. They said, OK, 09.00. No, still too early – I can’t cope with anything much before late morning. If you insist on 09.00 I won’t be here.
They did. I wasn’t.
They dumped me from the clinic.
The letter has been redacted so that no-one can be identified, except me of course. But look, if you do manage to figure out to whom I’m referring, don’t put it in a comment, it won’t be published. I’m having enough trouble without pissing them off!