No, It Would Not Be Easier

You must—at least once—make the soup I did tonight.

Picture 16th-century Italy, an elaborate banquet set with a dozen courses—most of which contain multiple dishes;  joints of roasted meats served alongside sweetened pastas, domed pies filled with stuffed pastas, meat ragus and custards, and in between some of those courses, soups and sweets to provide contrast and relief to the heavier dishes.

You could also picture a cookie cutter townhouse in California where the sheet vinyl in the dining room was installed wrong and has turned pink as a result but that would not be as much fun.

In either locale, the soup was worthy of note.  It is simplicity itself, a handful of ingredients, but all of them pretty spiffy.  You begin with homemade stock (I think it has to be in this case) which you infuse with almonds, garlic, pepper and cinnamon.  It is then strained, heated, salt and lemon juice added to taste, followed by a sprinkling of tiny strips of prosciutto and grated Parmigiano as it is served.

That is it.  The flavor haunts you, or maybe it teases you.  Either way, you know it is much more than broth with a sprinkling of cheese, but you cannot pin down all of it at once.  Amazing way to start a meal.

PS.  For those inclined to say it would be easier to come here for dinner, I can assure you that it is easier to make broth than it is to get through an airport these days.