Born in 1932, Todd, the soup guy, learned soup making from the grand cauldron masters of Resistance de Madrid during the Spanish Civil War and, later, from the kitchen of his Mother and Grandmother. As a child he skillfully helped fight against the Facistas by bringing hot soup to the free... more >

Born in 1932, Todd, the soup guy, learned soup making from the grand cauldron masters of Resistance de Madrid during the Spanish Civil War and, later, from the kitchen of his Mother and Grandmother. As a child he skillfully helped fight against the Facistas by bringing hot soup to the freedom fighters on the back of a somewhat smallish brown horse. These were the caldos of his people, his country, and his soul.
In the night, he and his tiny tiny horse would ride through the plains of Mancha to Alicante, where there would be ships from Italy and North Africa unloading with the most exotic ingredients the young Caldonero had ever seen. Wandering the Mercado Centrale the dusty Saharan air thick with sweet spice, the handsome lad would find fresh gambas and pulpos from the Mediterranean, local conejo and ardillas from the mountains west of town, and cured Serranos, chorizos and Manchegos.
With great peril to himself and his untrustworthy steed, he would return to the grand fires of the culinary camps hidden near the besieged city. There he and the chefs together would create gallons and gallons of a brilliant boullion to literally feed the war effort. Rich pollo, carne, and roedor stocks would bubble and teem with the carintas and giant anguila naturally marinated from the four-day ride. The young hero would valiantly deliver the soup to the troops on the front on the back of the overworked horse. Unfortunately for the Caulderistas, the indescribable aroma of the magical soup often gave away the location of the secret camps.
So, when the Fasistas finally overran the soup camps and killed the master boilers. the young boy escaped with his parents to sunny Southern California where, under the toot ledges of his strange red-haired mother and grandmother, he continued down the liquid path to where we are today. The women, average cooks of uneven dispositions dulled his war-honed skills with Birdseye, Kraft, Swanson, and an oddly delicious canned concoction called Dinty Moore.
The stew reminded him of his old horse.
One day while staring at the sun in the Mohave dessert, the soup guy had a revelation to go to the city and prepare soup for everyone. His mission was to feed the people to bring soup to a hungry and thirsty world. No one, small or weak, giant or large, would ever be denied or declined the mystical qualities of empowering hot elixir.
He didn’t do that, of course, but he did move to L.A. and worked in some interesting restaurants while having equally challenging cooking experiences privately.
Over the years the continually young person has cooked for hundreds of people and some of them even more famous and interesting than himself. Today the extremely vibrant and good-looking chef has brought his resources to bear to create soups and stews of uncommon valor and self-importance.
Please enjoy making them yourselves as much as he has enjoyed living the life from which they have sprung… < less