Pretty, at least

Growing up, I imagined that vichyssoise was the height of elegance, of culinary sophistication and otherness. Since I began to cook, I've made the dish repeatedly and in numerous ways-- so thick it qualified as a puree rather than a soup and, more recently, sieved into something much thinner, more refreshing. Never, though, has vichyssoise lived up to the intensity I projected on it as a youth. It never wows me. Perhaps I should focus more on the leek, figuring the potatoes strictly as a thickener? Perhaps nothing lives up to the wild, vivid notions of a truly youthful brain? My most recent attempt was refreshing-- a good way to initiate a summer meal-- and its flavor intensified after resting in the fridge a couple of days. It never thrilled me, but-- garnished with fried sage leaves-- it was pretty, at least.