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In the Soup... By Annabel Buckingham &
Thomasina Miers
Our book, Soup Kitchen is the result of two year’s work and
an incredible journey. We were somewhat cautious about taking the
project on (we had known each other only two months and had no experience
of the publishing world and no funding for the project) but there
was an inevitability about it right from the start and we both felt
a tremendous excitement about making it happen. Undeterred by the
obstacles (Annabel couldn’t cook and Tommi knew nothing about
design) we speed-read the ‘Writers and Artists’ Yearbook’
in an afternoon and got on the phone to talk to chefs about soup.
The results amazed even optimists like us. Within a week we had
12 recipes, by the next we had 40. The collection now boasts 100
recipes by an incredible collection of Britain’s favourite
chefs (over half the chefs have taken the time to create an original
recipe for us). Click here for list
of chefs
It’s been a trip. We’ve found ourselves in some amazing
situations — from slick publishing houses and star-studded
launches to incredible soup kitchens and blooming allotments. We’ve
donned suits at Book Fairs and worn blue hairnets and white coats
at the Maldon salt vats. We hope this book conveys something of
the amazing story. Click here if you’re
interested in some of our more bizarre encounters
The motivation behind Soup Kitchen is to raise money for the varied
and wonderful work of homeless charities across the UK. Far from
reinforcing the stereotypes of homelessness and soup, we hope that
it will enable a widespread interest in seasonal cooking and top
chefs to benefit the widest possible audience.
Annabel and Tommi
To read about the background to the
book, and how it all started, please click here
A poem by Tommi’s brother
There was a disorientated moth,
that fell into a bowl of broth;
as it fought in the goop,
it tasted the soup,
and let out a startled cough:
‘My god’ It did cry
‘I don’t care if I die’
‘so good is this soupy froth.’
‘I’ve put up a fight’
‘but I’m drawn to the light’
as it was, after all, a moth
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