February means we are knee deep in soup season. A messy metaphor, but you get the idea.
I equate soup with my dad. He loved soup and had a bit of Goldilocks about him. “Too thin.” “Too thick.” “Not enough this or that.” When soup was just right, he beamed.
As for my mom’s kitchen, I remember multiple cans of soup in the cupboard. As a kid, there was nothing better than Mom making me a bowl of Campbell’s tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich. Dad had his hand-picked canned soups in there. Otherwise, Mom stocked up on those soups that everyone used for recipes back then. Cream of mushroom, cream of chicken, cream of celery showed up in casseroles, not in our bowls at dinnertime.
The only time homemade soup was on the menu was chicken noodle soup. Why this one, I wonder, and no others.
Later on, when Dad and I had our Sunday dinner and a movie dates, he would try to find the best versions of black bean soup around town. If chowder was on the menu, he would always order a bowl. He was all about the accompaniments or garnishes too. The black bean soup required just the right toppings of a sour cream dollop, scallion, and cheddar cheese shreds. The chowder must come with oyster crackers.
With G, I tried hot and sour soup, tom yum, miso, ramen, and pho. I wish Dad could’ve been around to try all of those with us.
When Mom and I had a day together, we’d stop at Panera Bread for a lunch break from shopping. We had half a sandwich and crocks of broccoli cheese soup. That was the era of soup in bread bowls. French onion soup became another go-to choice.
My time in culinary school led me to homemade soup heaven. A little bit of olive oil in a pot, chopped onion, celery, carrot, some garlic…it’s the start to practically every soup.
One of my favorites is a roasted butternut squash soup. I slice a squash in half, scoop out the seeds and roast it in the oven so that it’s ready whenever I want to make soup. Along with the starter veg, I add smoked paprika and ginger and finish with a can of coconut milk. After simmering, I get to use one of my favorite kitchen tools, my immersion blender, AKA the boat motor.
Just like my dad, I'm always about the garnish, so I top the soup with chopped cilantro and scallions and toasted pumpkin seeds. It’s satisfying and comforting and just what winter ordered.
This month, I’ve made two batches of soup, enough for dinner and for the freezer. Good ol’ potato soup and a new fave, mushroom wild rice soup.
The power of soup is healing, nourishing, comforting. The last thing I ever made for my dad was minestrone soup. When I served him a bowl, he beamed.
I care about you. Please don’t forget to eat your greens.
This took my on a ride through my own memories with soup. My grandma used to make the best Minestrone soup. We have her recipe but, of course, it just doesn't taste the same. Growing up we also had the Campbell's chicken and celery soup to add to one of our meals on rotation...something with egg noodles and beef, I think. I always, always like my oyster cracker or saltines...the more, the better!
Now I am missing the cold and soup! Lovely volume, as always.