ode to soup

to my one true love.

Story by Emily Jiang

soup! i love soup. my mother makes wonderful soup. when i get home after a long flight she makes me chicken soup from korean chicken stock. she asks me if i’m dating anyone yet. but she should know that i will never find a partner, for none can live up to the liquid delight, the panaceatic nectar that is soup.

(shall i compare thee to soup? nae, thou art not as warm, filling, rich or layered. more’s the pity.)

soup got me through my last college (though not all the way, since i transferred and am here now). no shade to the medium raw chicken or completely raw vegetables at hamilton college, but sometimes the broccoli cheddar soup was the only edible item on campus.

now that i’m here, i love the chicken noodle soup in plex. i love the egg noodles they use in it. (i love egg noodles so much but that’s a whole other story, ok?) the soup here can be a hit or miss but when it hits, it hits. the beef barley soup in plex uses radishes, which gives a nostalgic taste of the daikon “white carrots” used in many asian soups. and though the clam chowder is somewhat painful to have as a new yorker, it’s enough to tide me over until i can get back to the northeast coast.

soup keeps me cozy on a cold day. a soup a day keeps the apple away, or something like that? unless there’s apple soup, which there probably is. my mother makes me pear soup when i’m sick. the feeling of warm liquidized pear and honey sliding down your sore throat must be like when the gods drink ambrosia. i’m instantly healed.

panera soup. don’t even get me started. and when you put macaroni in it? i could propose. love at first bite. it’s going to be me and panera broccoli cheddar at the altar. our officiant is tomato basil. the best man? clam chowder in a cream-colored tux. maid of honor? here comes matzah ball. chicken noodle and beef barley are in the audience. sundubu-jjigae is walking me down the aisle. our soup baby is going to smell like winter melon and shrimp.

i once gave myself smoke poisoning by getting distracted making soup and setting crackers on fire in the oven. it doesn’t really matter though because the soup was really good. better than a spa day, acupuncture, physical therapy, antidepressants and a good back crack combined. i think it more than canceled out the smoke poisoning — it may have been a risky flirtation that night, but only soup could save me from near death.