The Five Soups You Meet in Heaven

linq: Dahlia Bleu

If you were to compile a list of the five finest soups ever consumed by human-kind, those which improved lives and created strength where none existed, if you were to rank soups from best to worst, unmercifully and without regard for source, only content, Blue Dahlia Bistro on 11th would be a fine place to sit and eat while you did it.

The fare is fresh, and the atmosphere is pleasant inside. They sport an apron of relaxed tables in front and a small garden patio to the rear. Inside, the place practically bustles. In fact, I will go so far as to say that it does, indeed bustle. It bustles. Blue Dahlia bustles like a Victorian dress. Movement is apparent. Life is happening there.

And life walks past the front. The area of 11th street is pleasant, and has been recently repaved, at least mainly. There are a few old Austin landmarks still poking through the dentifrice of gentrification, and although I am one of the useless who decries their doom but has not sampled their wares, I strive often to branch out to them. I really do. Either way, it gladdens me to see them shining out of a new street’s growth, even as I commit the sin of hypocrisy by voting only with my mouth.

The food at Blue Dahlia hovers at the fresh side of human consumption. The vegetable matter is crisp and tasty, and the soups have been different at my every dining experience. There is a French quality to the food, without ever quite being daunting to order. If the word “Tartine” does not scare you, after you learn that it is a sandwich, you will find that you can order with either confidence or abandon, as the whim strikes you.

I have found that Blue Dahlia puts me strongly in the mood, hours after my visits, for a small and simple omelette with just a hint of salt and pepper, cooked slowly in a six-inch pan until fluffy and delicate, and topped with a single line of fine mustard. There is no logic for this urge, so far as I know, but that particular dish finds its way into the corners of my mind after Blue Dahlia enters my body. A puzzle, I suppose, but at least it is an itch easily scratched.

2 Cornichon and assorted Celery out of a Crudité platter