Well damn. Could that crab soup be any better?
It was creamy. But not floury. The worst is when you can easily identify the thickening agent. When you taste the flour, somebody failed. Worse would be a thickening and flavorless and thick cornstarch. But this soup did not make that mistake.
Flour needs to be a part of the fat, incorporated, with only thick and no interruption except to add feel. The fat could be butter. It could be olive oil. Or another oil. The flour needs to be heated, maybe taking on a color, and cooked. Flour tastes lousy. A mouthful of fatty thickness? Yes. That’s it. And cream. Yes, add cream.
The soup was sweet from the flesh of the crab, but you could taste the honey from the sherry. The sherry wasn’t just sweet, but nutty. And the butter wrapped around all of it–to fill your mouth.
That’s what I shoveled into my mouth. It was crazy. I didn’t need to eat it so fast. But it was just that good.