Haute cuisine.


I’ve mentioned it before, but sometimes smatterings of hipster douchebagism creep into my life. Sometimes, it’s intentional, like when I eat a stupendously priced, locally sourced artisan donut, but often it’s because something is nice and I’ve liked it a long time, like Mason jars. My mother was a big fan (and wrote a paper on them for an Industrial Design class, even) and I am a smidge obsessed and have been storing most dry goods/drinking beer out of them for years and years and years.

I also frequently use them to bring soup to work, mostly of the potage-y variety, but this week I have been craving faux pho – what I call any vaguely Asian-y noodle soup. But noodles doesn’t transport very well, unless one likes mushy pasta a great deal, but I came up with a solution: Three Jar Soup, which I made yesterday.

These three jars, assembled at home, contained the ingredients required.

At work, I topped off jar #1 (which is wee, but I can’t remember how wee in mL terms), containing dried shiitake mushrooms, half a bouillon cube’s worth of powder, a grated clove of garlic, some grated fresh ginger, a splish of toasted sesame oil, a splash of tamari, and a squeeze of lime juice with hot water straight from our coffee machine.

I then stirred it together and dumped it into jar #2 (a 250 mL jar), which contained uncooked rice vermicelli. I added a bit more hot water, then let it stand for about three minutes.

Jar #3’s contents (some previously frozen veg and some bean sprouts) were dumped into a bowl. The contents of Jar #2 (which, if you’ve been following, you know also contain the ingredients of Jar #1) were poured over it, along with a Jar #1’s worth of more hot water, and mixed a bit.

At this point, I realised the noodles weren’t quite cooked and the broth was cooling fast, so I bunged it in the microwave for about a minute and let it stand for another two minutes. I imagine that if one had a thermos instead of a jar for part #2, things might progress different. BUT I DIDN’T HAVE A THERMOS WITH ME.

After nuking, I stirred it more and ate it. And it was good. And would do it again. Most non-allergic folk would probably also include a generous dollop of sriracha too. Unless something else has usurped the cock sauce for dominion over hipster palates. I don’t know, ’cause I’m not that cool.

I am going to do this again tomorrow, perhaps with more sprouts and slightly different veg. Maybe you should try it some day too.

UPDATE from after Thursday’s lunch: Today’s version included crushed wakame seaweed, which worked pretty nicely, and no lime. I’m thinking miso instead of stock powder for next time.

9 thoughts on “Haute cuisine.

  1. Jackie

    Ooo, this is brilliant, and definitely something I’ll keep in mind for someday when I don’t work smack in the middle of 785 cheap pho restaurants.

  2. megan

    Heh. I’m not of the beef-eatin’ persuasion and there are no such options ’round work anyway, so I have to make my own fun/faux.

  3. Kelly

    I inherited approximately 50 vintage Ball mason jars from my MIL. No one else was interested in them, can you believe that!? Original lids and all.

    For the time being, I’m just ‘keeping’ them to look at. Like the demented hoarder that I am.

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