Let me tell you about the time I spent an hour and a half making something that tasted like a baked potato… in witness protection. This is a story of betrayal. Of high hopes and creamy promises. Of bacon grease and different kinds of potatoes that conspired to whisper, “You could’ve just used the microwave.“ The Soup That Lied to Me Look, I’m not here to slander soup. I love soup. Soup is cozy. Soup is healing. Soup is what I make when my mental health is in the “let’s chop vegetables to feel something” stage. But this soup? This soup