Campbell's Soup Test Kitchen Employee

Once I grow up, I’m going to be a Campbell’s Soup test kitchen employee. I will spend year after year toiling over a hot oven, thinking of new and exciting ways to incorporate Cream of Mushroom Soup into everyday meals. I will delight in the fact that every night American families sit down to a dish of my creation after a long day of work, school, and housekeeping.

Each morning, my alarm will go off at exactly 6:30am. I will eat my daily bowl of Raisin Bran in silence, and then put on one of my many collared shirts and pairs of pressed khakis pants. My comfortable and sensible high-top sneakers will be non-slip--approved for maximum safety in kitchens. They will carry me outside of my one-story home to my beige Dodge Stratus (bought used, but reliable and made in America). At exactly 7:25 (five minutes early--as usual) I will arrive outside of Campbell’s headquarters in Camden, New Jersey.

My kitchen will be located on the fifth floor. After twenty years of faithful servitude, Campbell’s will have provided me with my own corner kitchen. No more sharing with Johnson, the tomato soup tester, who spoke constantly of his terrible tomato soup creations and even more terrible bowel movements. His recipes will hardly ever make the Campbell’s official recipe book. Mine, on the other hand, will be the shining stars.

Perhaps you will hear of a little recipe called the “green bean casserole.” Vibrant green beans will swim in a sea of Campbell’s creamy mushroom soup, topped with a regal crown of crispy fried onions. On holidays, slivered almonds or bacon bits can be added, creating an exceptional flavor combination perfect for special occasions.

After experimenting for nine years, I will reach the conclusion that Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup makes an excellent sauce. This is when my career will really take flight. Mixed with meat and some sort of starch, there are numerous possibilities. Among my creations: chicken and rice bake, chicken and rice casserole, chicken and noodle casserole, chicken and noodle bake, creamy chicken and mushroom stroganoff, creamy beef and mushroom stroganoff, creamy tuna stroganoff and pork chops.

Over the same six-burner stove I will toil daily, stirring Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup with the enthusiasm of a seven-year old who has just been given a puppy. Bags of cheddar cheese and broccoli will sit before me, eager to play their equal parts in some innovative and exciting new dish. I will not listen to any sort of music or radio shows as I work (like Johnson does), believing instead that the food before me creates its own symphony. When an idea works out well, I will experience a harmonious fusion of flavors, all gently waltzing over my taste buds. On these days, I will take the elevator up to the ninth floor, holding my creation with the delicacy of a newborn. My superiors at Campbell’s will rejoice at the sight of my face and foil-covered casserole dish. They will know about the hard work that I put into each and every creation, as they will have numerous security cameras set up on each floor. I will set the dish onto their long board meeting table, and divvy up portions onto plastic plates. Then, I will wait for each of them to chew and swallow that first bite. It will feel like hours. Almost every time, they will ooo and ahh, reaching for a second helping and yelling to the secretaries to “write this recipe up for the books.” These will be my moments of glory.

Of course, once every few years, one of my creations will be rejected. Instead of oohhing and ahhing, my superiors’ faces will--for a brief second--twist in disgust as they chew that first bite. Trying to be polite, they will suggest ways to rework my dying creation. “Maybe if you….,” or “Perhaps you should…” I will understand what they are really trying to say.

While living the life of a star employee at a widely loved soup company may seem glamorous, I might get lonely once and awhile. I will try to smother these feelings with daydreams of happy families enjoying my creations. Mom will place the glass casserole dish in the middle of the table, while Dad and their two young children look on in excitement. “OOOHHH, cheesy chicken and noodle casserole is my favorite Mom!” Billy, aged five will say. “I know, can we have this every night?” Suzie, aged seven will say. The mother will look at her husband with a look that says, “Our crazy kids.” They’ll both shake their heads and laugh.

Over the years, Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup will grow to be my best friend; my confidant. From its mushrooms and cream to its dehydrated garlic and monosodium glutamate, I will know its every in and out. And it will know mine. In the throes of sleep, visions of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup will dance in my head, peppered with ingredients I could never include in creations meant for the average middle-class, mid-western family. I will go to Monaco, Chile, and Egypt--all within the confines of my four poster bed. Visions of saffron and St. Andre cheese will tease me at work as I reach for the same mild cheddar cheese and egg noodles. Still, like any old friend, I will always be happy to see it just as it is. On cold winter days, I will forgo my usual lunch of tuna on wheat, and warm up a bowl of cream of mushroom instead. I will set the hot bowl in front of me, sit down and look. Creamy and earthy, rich and satisfying, this is the perfect food. I will savor each spoonful, and ignore the recipe suggestions listed on the back of the can.