Soup

Creating a pot of soup is extremely gratifying to me. I love to transform a pile of veggies, a bit of meat, perhaps some beans or noodles, into a soothing, nurturing medley of flavors and textures. I suspect soup has wiggled its way into my gastronomic memory from my earliest years; my mom’s homemade chicken noodle and beef vegetable soups were regulars and favorites from childhood. In high school, I asked her to teach me to make her chicken noodle; I love that I can make it now for family gatherings and know that I am providing a bowl of happiness and satisfaction for those I love. I also like to take chicken noodle to new moms; for some reason, it always receives high raves from them.

I’m visiting my family this month; yesterday, I purchased a cut-up fryer, ‘Grandma’s Frozen Egg Noodles’ (the secret ingredient), onions, carrots, celery, and bouillon, and simmered it into completion to offer to my loved ones for supper. Salt, pepper, and generous amounts of garlic and parsley are also key ingredients.

In the last few years especially, I sometimes sense that I pour a lot of love into the food I prepare for others. I may not be the most demonstrative or outgoing person, but when I prepare a meal for others, paying especial attention to all the details and flavors, I feel as though I’m offering them love on a plate, offering physical evidence of my affection for them. I don’t know that anyone realizes this, but I hope they do at least in some small way. There are numerous ways of showing love to those around us; providing a satisfying meal seems like one of the most elemental ways.