On Monday, I was off from Job 1 but worked Job 2. During my luxurious 1/2 hour for lunch, I ran the two blocks to a little French cafe. There, I ordered vegetable soup, a tuna melt and a drink and sat down, trying not to tap my foot impatiently. Five minutes later, the waitress brought my lemonade and a lovely crock of vegetable soup and told me the tuna melt was on the way, which, happily, it was. The soup looked nice. The soup smelled lovely. The soup tasted... well, it tasted good. And quite familiar. It was Progresso.
I don't mean it tasted like canned soup.
I mean, this French cafe opened a can of Progresso vegetable soup, poured a small amount in a small crock, nuked it for a minute, and charged me $3.50 for the pleasure. Had I wandered into a scene from European Vacation?
Now, I am not anti-Progresso. I am pro-Progresso. If I were any more pro-Progresso I might go pro. (I'm progressive that way.) I recognized the soup because I have Progresso soups at home in the pantry for when I am sickly and weak and want a quick bowl of soup with truly minimal effort. So, I wasn't put off, per se. It just got me to wondering how often a restaurant dish is actually the result of opening a can or boxed frozen entree?
