reflecting on a good plate of soup

Jota!
the mother of all soups!
Iam sitting in the sun, here in British Columbia along the mighty columbia, and i am enjoying a plate of eccellente northern italian soup! so i have to think about this for sure... how do you think this whole scenario came about? Just like everything else, and it was not at all like in the big book. Not like God saying to himself all of a sudden “Let there be Jota!” It would have made more sense actually, but he would have had to go through the entire rigmarole he did when he decided instead to make someone in his image. Like he had to make the light, divide the waters from the firmament etc etc. and a lot more than that . And that would go for northern Italian housew too, even if she did not have to bother to deal with the first part. Like maybe god did that, or maybe I think it just evolved in time or in concept as everything else, the thing is that neither Maria nor God could just come out with a good plate of Jota on a fiat! No way! I mean , he had to go through all the other stuff,. Wait for the for the sun to shine just right and the earth to cool off a bit. Plants to grow and the animals to pasture then either one had to wait all the ingredient and their processes to come about one way or the other, like here it is and that is merely the ingredients. Then it would take time to figure out which ingredient , how much, and when... I mean you can't produce a plate of fantastic Jota like you would a big bang! No way ! So you see, things don't come together all at once, I have no idea how many cisalpine housewives had a go at it untill it came to be more or less how it is described on wikipedia... and even then you could start a serious scism like... no, worse than the reformationi if you tried to pass that recipe as the god given one to la signora Maria or other, and the choice of ingredient right down to how you fatten a true San Daniele pig and all..Maybe in china now days! Italian take their food seriously, they come back from a vacation and while the germans, would talk about the architecture and art and all, the italians come back from who knows where and all they talk about is the food they hate and the wine that went with it.

talking of food made me hungry. I will check it for you later, don;t even know what i said in the rest of it. yet my stomach's memory is infallible! shit...