Life in a Bowl of Soup

Like most reasonable men and women from civilisations near and far, I love soup.

Especially if the weather is cold and wet. Thus far, we have not had many such days, so I have not indulged in bowls of delicious home-made soup with quite the same regularity as in past, less dry years. But right now, all has changed as I am sitting on a balcony overseeing a luscious green garden concealed in mist and saturated with rain.

And in just a few hours, I’ll be in the kitchen looking for ingredients to make soup.

For soup is food of a very special kind. In the words of the great Auguste Escoffier, “soup puts the heart at ease, calms down the violence of hunger, eliminates the tension of the day, and awakens and refines the appetite”.

Making a proper soup requires a major commitment and undiluted dedication. Although there are many soups that require little time and almost no effort, my soup today will not be of that kind; this one will be made with great affection and will require time, effort, vision and direction.

Soup in many ways resembles humanity. It thrives when there is harmony and falls apart when there is uninhibited rivalry.

All soups start with a good, wholesome base. Mine requires a base made with bones and meat, aromatic herbs and some fragrant vegetables.

Without the base, there is no foundation for a soup of sustenance. The purpose of the base is to present something flavourful – pure, drinkable liquid gold – with which to enclose and direct the star ingredients for your soup.

You may choose to start your journey with a large ham bone from a home-reared pig or shank bone from a holy cow, or you may want to opt for a dark-roasted, umami-loaded vegetable demi-glaze. It is up to you which way you wish to steer your soup from this point on.

One thing is undeniable, though: You cannot make a wholesome soup from water alone.

Next, I’ll wander through the garden looking for herbs – oregano and thyme would be good – and since I have discovered leeks and potatoes in the vegetable rack by the kitchen sink, I’d be happy if the garden can provide just a little more: One or two carrots, a fistful of marrows or a small punnet of peas-in-a-pod.

I’ll have to see. I may also wander out the gate onto the pavement and into the clearing down the road looking for some umfino.

With a solid foundation in place, I can get to constructing the soup. Harmony is required and that means all ingredients have equal right to be respected.

Some have to be chopped small, for they take a long time to cook, while others can barely stand the heat and should be added last, just before the overall mission is completed. Dare I say, frozen vegetables are totally acceptable? Well, I do; no objections from my side.

I like my soup to have a mixed identity, thus I often combine more than one key ingredient: Potatoes and leeks; broccoli and cheese; butternut and sweet potatoes; carrot and parsnips. I also like my soup with fuller bodies; thus, I do like to add a good fat like cream or coconut cream, and I also like to blend the soup.

I am definitely not a fan of chunks of vegetables floating on water. If you do not object to carbohydrate content, blended, starchy vegetables such as potatoes and pumpkin can be employed to add body to your soup.

If crunch is needed, I’d fry bacon bits till crispy, add small croutons made from squares of deep-fried stale bread, or add crunchy deep-fried bits of herbs or thinly sliced vegetables such as potatoes, parsnips or beetroot.

One may require one or more substances to finish the soup: Yogurt, herbal and other fragrant oils, cream, nuts, vinegar, sauces and condiments such as hot sauce and Worcestershire sauce. But be modest, please.

A late, densely bearded friend once said: “A man with a beard must eat his soup alone and by himself”. He was concerned with soup’s ability to undercut one’s desire to guzzle gracefully and gulp without excessive noise. But bear no notice of such warnings against civility for Beethoven believed that “only the pure of heart can make good soup”.

Soup always does its loyal best, no matter what undignified conditions are imposed upon it.

• 4 tablespoons olive oil

• 2 cups leeks, white part only, chopped (from approximately 3 medium leeks)

• 2 tablespoons garlic, finely minced

• Salt, to taste

• 2 cups carrots, peeled and chopped into rounds (approxi- mately 2 medium)

• 2 cups fresh green beans, broken or cut into 5cm pieces

• 1,8 litres chicken or vegetable stock

• 4 cups tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped