Unfortunately, this is not a cooking blog1. A few summers ago I was working on an activist/political campaign along with a gruff and grey old ex-marine named Phil. Phil had a rather grim view of the youth of the day. He came from an era when engaged citizenship had a lot to do with soup, apparently. “If we really cared about this country, if we really cared about our troops or our democracy or our future, then where are everyday signs of it?” he’d yell at me. “Why aren’t we growing victory gardens? Why aren’t we making victory soup?” He explained (angrily) to me that when he was a boy during the Second World War, people would plant Victory Gardens in their yards in order to help deal with produce shortages and allow more supplies to be sent overseas. ...

