Pavlov's Fog

So I gaze out of the window today to realize the office had been swallowed by a cloud. And what do I think of? A piping hot bowl of soup.

The oft-used pea soup metaphor for fog has become so ingrained that the fog itself has become the conditioned stimulus.

See fog, want soup.

Luckily, I had just made the hearty tuscan bean stew from the most recent Cook's Illustrated and it was waiting for me at home with a loaf of Fox & Obel sourdough (it was quite good, by the way - I'd make it again).

But what struck me was how the metaphor had given way, leaving the weather and soup essentially synonymous in my brain.

I imagine others have moments like this: where food comes to mind without warning and with very little provocation.

When that movie A Walk in the Clouds came out, whenever I saw the previews on TV, all I could think of was plums.

When February 1st hits: paczkis, who the hell is selling Girl Scout Cookies?
Ash Wednesday: time to find zeppoles.
Going to a movie at Century Mall: Gotta go to Soupbox.
Whenever I drive north on Waukegan: some wacky ice cream at Village Creamery (wonder if they have Sweet Corn today?)

Whoever said the average person thinks of sex 20 times a day has it wrong.