The best carrot soup I ever ate was in Campo de Fiori. It was 2005, and my family went to Rome for Christmas vacation. The summer before, I went away to learn French from a strict ruler-slapping Swiss woman -- and a sixteen year old boy. This boy (who had taken the overnight train from Paris to Rome) joined my family on all our tours of the city, but somehow he and I found ourselves alone in Campo de Fiori at lunchtime. (The next day, in the garden of the Villa Borgese, he told me he loved me; he was my first love.) <br /> <br />Anyway, the soup. The memory of this soup has endured me nearly a decade. I don't have a picture, but I vividly remember how fresh and sweet it tasted. It was not curried or gingery or creamy. It extracted the carrot's purest essence and intensified it. And last night, with all of the pounds of carrot choppings I had from my first week of culinary school, I endeavored to make this soup of fantasy. It was delicious.

Share: