Soup
or No Soup
“Rain
beats against my kitchen window in the falling dusk. I can hear geese outside,
in low formation over the valley. Winter is letting go. Pausing by the stove
with raincoats draped over my arm, I stop to stir a pot of pea soup, sending up
clouds of steam that mist over the window. We’ll be glad for a warm cup during
the night ahead.”
Robin
Wall Kimmerer (Braiding Sweetgrass, p.348; Milkweed Editions, 2013)
Winter
is the rainy season in the deep south. Last week, we had four seasons—80 degrees
one day, 20 the next, 60 and raining, two inches of snow, wind, and tornadoes, then
back to rain. I had a text from my cousin, Susan, yesterday saying it was “Mordor
gray and drizzling” in North Carolina as it was here in Alabama. What this
means to me is, it’s soup weather! My specialty!
My soup
skills came, not from my mother or grandmother for once, but from my former mother-in-law,
Sara. Sara taught me that good soup is all about the broth. She made her own in
huge batches of cracked bones and unpeeled vegetables, dusted with flour, salt
and pepper —first, roasted in the oven until good and brown, then put into an
enormous stock pot, covered with water, and simmered for a couple of hours. The
bones and vegetables were then removed, and the remaining liquid boiled down into
a reduction and frozen in ice cube trays. Everything that went into Sara’s soup
was fresh, chopped, seared, and added to regular (grocery store) broth, and
then just a cube or two of the reduction made it perfect. She was a master.
Today’s
soup will be potato and onion because that’s what I have on hand. Throw in some
chicken broth, celery, herbs and maybe a chunk of parmesan cheese, and you’ve
got the makings of a delicious winter soup. Soup soothes the soul and nourishes
the body. Remember the European folk tale, Stone Soup, in which everyone in a
starving village brings one ingredient—the very last thing in their larder—and puts
it into a big cauldron in the middle of the town square. When the soup was
cooked, everyone in the village had enough to eat. That’s the other thing about
soup—it’s meant to be shared.
I’m not
a winter person. I don’t like to be cold, but I do love to make soup, so that
makes winter a beautiful season. If you happen to be a winter person, then this
crazy weather and warm cup of soup must be Nirvana for you. There’s one other
thing—remember to be thankful for life itself, and for the simple gift of
another day on this beautiful blue planet. Soup or no soup, we are truly blessed.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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