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Mmm, this is a hearty filling recipe that goes away fast. The cheesy topping makes a great nachos sauce also. Enjoy this food with a refreshing homemade lemonade.

Arr, it be that merry time again. The salty spray is in the air, and the ship bounces joyfully in its mooring. Even the bilge rats are cheerful, or as they're called nowadays, accountants. For today it be International Talk Like a Pirate Day! Its the Christmas for pirates, pirate admirers, and people who have seen Treasure Island a wee too much to be healthy.

What happens when the dynamic vegan duo decide to tackle Europe by storm with little more than a rail pass, a bag of fizzy multivitamins, and a taste for adventure? Hilarity ensues, unfortunately! Meet interesting people, such as 'random French guy' who pushes us onto a metro ride toward the Sexporium. Or how about the train stalkers who corral passengers into their flats for rent at competitive rates. Evade the ubiquitous gypsies asking for money in creative new ways. Follow our sprawling, and madcap adventure through the sites and scenes of Europe. From Big Ben to the Acropolis, the Vatican to the Reichstag--we literally don't know what city we'll be in by the end of the day. By plane, ferry, tram, the odd bus, and an in-terminal-able amount of trains, we criss-cross the continent. In Amsterdam, the wild city, we're configuring routers instead of getting high making me doubt my sanity. Persisting rumors kept us asking, "Will bands of robbers invade our night train?" Can we trust this guy who is leading us to a great deal on a hostel? Or, why is that man walking away with our passports? I'm not sure but I think I even bribed a conductor in Bulgaria. Why on earth did I go on this trip, and why can't I ever find a place to sleep? Will I ever see home again? Will my recurring nightmares of being stuck in a train station ever cease?!?

In the past semester, the bus installed an automated message system (as well as some hidden cameras, but that's a whole 'nother blog). The first time I encountered the message system came as a bit of a surprise. I had just concluded a short phone call and the bus PA system said to refrain from calls or loud conversations on the bus. I wondered, "Had the bus driver pushed a special button to tell me to shut up?" But a few minutes later I heard another random announcement and felt a bit less targeted. One such announcement goes like, "If you see something, say something. Immediately alert the bus driver or call 911 if you witness any suspicious behavior on buses, bus stops, and transit centers."

I first enjoyed this soup at Tiparo's, a thai restaurant in Pasadena, CA. Since then I've enjoyed this soup at several Thai restaurants, and have been trying to make the soup at home with varied success. I love this soup and am happy to be able to share the recipe.

Ah the bus stop. Bane of my existence. I think hell is just one large bus stop with all the bad people crammed around the last bit of shade. Flies crawl on your leg from the overflowing trashcans. People smoke with reckless abandon next to the "no smoking" signs. The wait for the bus seems to never end. Every possible bus except yours passes by in quick procession. And of course, its the perfect place for people to beg, or in this case, demand money.

I've overheard all manner of conversations on the bus. People talk and talk and talk. You'll hear people going about their daily mundane lives. You'll hear people talking about shoplifting, or admitting to all manner of crimes. For the most part you're better off just staring ahead blankly and pretending you didn't see or hear anything. Such is the case when you hear a mad scientist talking about his old lab being shut down.

I'm used to climbing on crowded buses with tourists laden with heavy luggage. I can cope with buses crowded and packed so tightly that people are standing well beyond the yellow line which "federal law mandates that no one may stand beyond the yellow line while the bus is in motion." And, somehow, I cope with the homeless on the bus. Now I'm a very compassionate person. I empathize with these people who have ended up as society's outcasts, shuffling around vacantly from place to place. But while I'm glad they are able to use public transportation, I'm still not entirely pleased to be in close proximity.

With all due trepidation, we returned to the harbormaster's office the next day to see about getting a permit for Tempo to stay in her slip. We brought our list of the 63 vacant slips with us as an arguing point. Justifying our dread, we found Meghan Statts, the district manager of DOBOR, behind the counter chatting with Ken Chee. To add to our tummy rumbles, she had been apprised of our unpermitted occupancy of slip #783. "I don't know if you know who I am..." she began her tired refrain of asserting dominance over her audience.

There are teachers for which I have a special place in my heart. Such teachers foster open minds and an eagerness to return to class each day. Of that special set of exemplary teachers, Mrs. Kearney is not among them. If there were a body part reserved for teachers of that caliber, it would not be polite to mention it. But why is the bright-eyed smiling teacher deserving of such a distinction? Three words--Wheel of Fun.