Introduction to “I Rate Progresso Soup”
I love soup. I really do. Whenever I want an easy meal, my mind drifts towards the siren’s call of those funky little cans-- the cans of tomato soup filled with the tomato slime that you need to add water to; the cans of beef stew, soft vegetables, vibrant in color, oranges and yellows of carrots and corn stark against the brown, savory broth. A lucid dream, bombarding my senses in the best way possible. I knew I had to start this blog. It’s my life’s calling, my passion, my raison d’etre.
When I’m on a call with my friends, dispersed across the United States like wayward specks of seasoning within a most delectable soup, I say, “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna grab something to eat,” and they’ll say, “What’re you getting?” I respond, of course, “Some soup,” and they laugh. Of course it’s soup. I’m the soup boy. I eat soup. It’s what I do!
After I concluded I needed to blog all of my reactions on the great Tumblr, famous for eccentricity and homosexuality, both of which are characteristics I happen to possess, I raced to Discord to consult my inner circle, the very same people who indulge in my soupy antics. With frantic haste, I typed out the question, “how do you guys feel about me starting a blog where i rate progresso soups?” It wasn’t long before my web of support in this endeavor was presented to me:
“honestly, with the state of this world; the political and economic climate, i think that would be life changing”
“rating progresso soups was the one thing my great grandfather wanted to do during the cold war, alas he never got to see the day, as he was killed in action. This progresso soup rating blog feels like it's carrying on his legacy.”
I was beaming with joy. Of course my friends would support me in this! I knew I could count on my friends! And then I heard the notification. The once sweet, comforting sound of my Discord notifications were twisted by a group of friends who dissuaded me, telling me my dreams weren’t worth it, and that it was a fool’s errand.
“that sounds worse than an unsalted pretzel”
“Rating soup is as pointless and time wasting as sweeping an unused field, I just can't see this being useful to anyone.”
My heart was shattered. Absolutely crushed to pieces, like an antique baby doll being run over by a semi. The driver, of course, would only feel a bump. They wouldn’t know the pricelessness of the artifact they just destroyed with their brutish carelessness, like how these “friends” wouldn’t understand the extent of their words piercing my delicate-- oh, so delicate!-- heart. I love my friends with every fiber of my being; each one is so unique and funny and so, so lovely to be around. How could they do me like this?
In an instant, my wallowing suddenly turned into a raging inferno of passion and perseverance. I needed to prove those haters wrong. I’ll show them wrong. I’ll get so many followers on Tumblr, and I’ll become rich and famous off of my soupy passion! I love soup so much, I love them more than those fake friends who hate my betrothed-- my soup. I needed to prove those haters wrong! I’ll show them! I’ll show all of them! I will eat every single Progresso soup, and I’ll rate each and every one! It’s with great pleasure and excitement that I present to you, the fine gentlepeople of this website, my discoveries and displays of raw, soup hubris:
Chapter One - Tomato Basil
Red sauce. That was the first thing that came to mind when I wafted the savory, herbed scent of tomato soup towards myself. I could slather this soup on a pizza crust and top it with the finest cheeses and meats, and then stick that bad boy in the oven for a while, and voila, a whole damn pizza. From the scent alone, I knew Progresso wasn’t lying when they printed “TOMATO BASIL” on their crisp-sea soupcan. This bad boy was stuffed with basil!
I lifted my bowl over the sink to avoid any scattered splotches of deep orangish-red in case of spillage, and carefully lifted my can to pour that pre-cooked goodness into my bowl. This was the moment of truth, the hour of reckoning, the very moment my life would be changed forever with this blog. I couldn’t help but feel a passing serenity over the course of the following few seconds as I slowly let the soup cascade down into my bowl, and then I placed it into the microwave, letting it cook for a couple of minutes.
I couldn’t help but feel anxious excitement as the bowl gradually spun and spun in its few minutes away from my hungry hands, and this anticipation would only ramp up further and further as the soup cooked. I paced around my kitchen, occasionally glancing towards the ever-falling timer to see how much longer I had to wait for my wet and wild treasure, my sweet and savory delight.
The microwave yelped upon hitting 0:00 and I tore off a few sheets of paper towel to wrap the bowl in; I’d do much for soup, but to scorch my hands would be a folly of the moment. Carefully, I set the soup down on the counter next to a couple spires of Lysol wipes and cleaning supplies foolishly left out from the day before. I quickly snapped a picture, for you, my loving fellow soupfans, and ran upstairs with my prize and a spoon to eat in the comfort of my computer and write as I dived headfirst into the joys of Tomato Basil.
As I sat in the artificial glow of my computer monitor, white with the sheen of Google Docs, I swirled my soup to scout out its consistency. Quite creamy, I thought, as I felt the slightest bit of resistance within the soup, though it still let the spoon pass through with relative ease. The red sauce-scent filled my room as I waited longer and longer to take my first bite. It was a moment, and a soup, I needed to savor, every single part of it.
The soup itself was speckled with the tiniest blotches of forest green, bits which I could only assume to be the titular basil. He complimented the red tomato blend well; it was a glorious sight to behold. I stirred the soup once more, just for good measure, and raised the spoon up above the savory ocean beneath. Some of it clung to the metallic underside, and even more waterfalled off from the gleaming edge like a heavenly paradise.
It was now or never, I thought as the distance between the spoon and I shrunk. I took my first bite, and needless to say, it was magical, with such vivid taste that words would aspire to describe. This soup was more than palatable, it left me pining for more. More soup. Again, I took another bite. Again, it was another explosion of taste spread across my brain. It tasted almost exactly how it smelled: savory, saucy, with a hint of sweetness brought out by the name of the game. I couldn’t stop eating.
Halfway through my soup, I felt an onset craving of cheese. I knew this would happen. I have a storied history of craving cheese to pair with my tomato soup. The soup was simply too savory to slurp on its own; I wanted something more. However, I couldn’t let the purity of this soup-tasting be corrupted by the external factor of the cheese. I stayed my cheese brain and kept eating; I kept eating and eating.
At last, my soup was finished. A cloud of lingering soup formed a ring around where it once peaked. The sun sunk beneath the horizon, and the moon rose to celebrate this accomplishment: the first soup devoured, the first soup ranked. So savory, so delicious. How I wish for the next soup to be this grand! Until next time, Tumblr, goodbye! Goodbye! And I hope your next soup is as good as mine! I love you all.
21/25 - This soup is magical!