My first memories of making soup go right back into my early teens. So you could say l have been making soup for over 25 years now. Making soup however is not just making soup. As I look back over those years now ,each different stage , the making of soup has had a special significance.
In my mid teens soup making was ;Sunday nights at my best friend's house, just a few doors down the street. She was a few years older than me and we went to different secondary schools. We saw each other during the week but not a whole lot. I got home from school at around 5pm every day and then had dinner with my family and then started on homework.
Sunday night always felt a bit like the end of the world after the fun of the weekend spent with all of our friends, but Sunday night became about making soup. I learned the soup making technique from my friend. We would stand shoulder to shoulder in her kitchen as l watched, and eventually helped her, as she meticulously diced onions,carrots, celery and potato. These were added to the pot with some butter and herbs. We would be engrossed in our conversation which took us back over the activities of the weekend but the next time l would look l'd realise stock had been added and brought to the boil and then when it was set to simmer..well the kettle went on then and it was time to sit at the table and have a good natter.
When the soup was ready we would both have a small bowl, maybe with a slice of bread and butter. Then the soup was put in containers in the fridge, and some in the freezer and that was her lunch for the week organised.
Scroll forward ten years and l am a professional working in residential care and community based family support. The focus is on teaching life skills to young people, or to mums in need of support with feeding their families. The real benefit though is the shared experience, the non threatening format of standing elbow to elbow with a young person/adult at a worktop. The fact that no eye contact is needed, and that there is no pressure to talk, other than the task of making the soup. The process is therapeutic,is calming. There is a shared sense of purpose and it is a great leveller. I must say that some of the most amazing experiences of connecting with others and having meaningful interaction with them has been done chopping vegetables and stirring soup. The sense of pride when a young person presents the finished soup to their peers is so pure and wonderful. It says here is your healthy and nutritious lunch, it is good for you in every way, it is made with love.
Years later, l am living in Australia. Living on a budget. Living with some who would eat instant noodles every night and others who would eat nothing but cereal. Others loved fast food. The making of the soup again. Imagine a hostel kitchen. lots of activity, lots of chat, everybody gathered around. The soup is made, the smell begins to form and drift slowly across the large kitchen, noses twitch, eyes dart about. whats the smell they say. Tis soup l say, its for my lunch for the week...would you like to try some l say...happy chatting, happy campers, spoons clinking, scraping the last remnants of soup from the side of bowls and mugs. Its mighty good soup eh? It is indeed. Soup gone, lunch for the week will be fruit and crackers. How bad eh? Happy and well fed. A few stragglers wandering in, admiring the smell, sorry to have missed the soup. I'll make it again next week when l get paid.
Years on and l have finished five years of university, have found love, bought a home, gained a mortgage and started the job l have always wanted, Sunday night soup making resumes. I make the soup and put it in take away cartons. A good pot of soup can give me a lunch for two weeks. My husband refuses to eat soup unless its from a packet and only one particular brand. Really, i kid you not. He is not a good vegetable eater either, so l incorporate the soup mix into casseroles, curries, stews and stir fries. Feeling like l have deceived him a little bit, but feeling like l also did him a favour by helping with his five a day..I'm not good with guilt though so l confess and am relieved that he thinks its a great idea.
Its now 2014. The soup is still going strong. The recipe changes over the years. No butter obviously, sometimes its extra virgin olive oil, sometimes it starts off with water in the pot with herbs. Sometimes its less potato and butternut sqush, othertimes its whatever is in the fridge. Now, My kids enjoy making the soup with me and watching as i portion it out into individual cartons. Some is put in freezer. Some goes in the fridge. Like mother like daughter, my wee woman loves a bowl of the soup. Like father like son, my wee boy makes dramatic faces when l ask him to taste it. So I continue to use it in curries and sauces, in stir fries and stews. I havent told him yet as l want him to eat it.
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