Rudolf’s Diner

I lived down the street from the Soup Nazi “restaurant” in NYC, that beloved Seinfeld icon that actually does exist. It was more like a 3-sided kitchen open to the street when the gate went up. Savory smells drifted past the long line that formed every day at 11:00. A tall, dark, man from a country far away ran the joint, and he was somewhat of a terror. On a rainy day I was banished because I held an umbrella under his awning. Unlike the character in Seinfeld, I had no pride and kissed his ass. I put down my umbrella obediently. But I wasn’t a complete loser. “I’ll never come back!” I yelled while reaching for my bowl of bisque and chunk of challah. I tried to stay away; it lasted for 2 weeks. Thankfully, he didn’t recognize me and I got my split pea and bacon.

I loved NYC, food of all cultures – good food, soul food, spicy food, weird food, affordable food, and much of it vegetarian. Moving to Boulder, I aspired to turn the Boulderites on to the wonders of soup. In November, I bought a muffin cart from a depressed muffin maker. I furnished it with a steam oven, hosted a soup tasting with my new friends and, voila! I was cooking soup! Mostly organic, tasty as can be, and totally vegetarian, I waited for my soup line to form. In the meantime, I’d keep the cart spic and span, wiping down the counters ad nauseum only to have a sheet of ice form. By and by, I started to sell out of soup, but it was hard work pulling that cart on over patches of ice, snow banks, returning to the kitchen to pound out another 3 flavors every night.

Thank Goodness for the backup plan: shave ice. That’s right, the antithesis of organic vegetarian soup in every way. Artificle reds, blues and yellows, processed white sugar and frozen water. Boy, did it sell.

©Vicki Kurzban, 2008