An open recipe to all my soup-slurping supporters:
Today, I emerge from a break in my soup connoisseurship endeavors. Some would posit it was because of the passage of summer, which is known in the Northern Hemisphere for its boiling, un-gazpacho-like weather. This, of course, with complete disregard to carbonada criolla climes of the Argentinian Southern Hemisphere -- but this is beside the point. Yes, some would say that my absence has been a result of summer -- which many postulate is not soup season.
However, like a bowl of clam chowder, these gesticulators make me want to vomit. In fact, this summer has been a hiatus of harira and hot and sour soup. Yes, I took a souply sabbatical. For a week in the scalding hot month of July, I only had soup -- and yes, I remember them all. Ramen, matzo ball soup, chili, curry. My mouth salivates at these soups of summer.
Yet, the hidden enemies of broth are many. Seeking to sow discord on this rotating matzo ball we call Earth, some claim that there is something called "soup season", which runs from when the weather turns cold to when it resumes being hot. This has become a fad on the interweb, with so-called "influencers" declaring soup season a pretense to make grotesque recipes. I shudder at their solely vegan concoctions. Honor the stock!
While beef stock is a rich topic, I digress. I condemn these enemies of our palates, who, motivated by nefarious means, decry our right to have soup year-round. I posit -- nay -- declare that there is something known as a soup season: but it is indeed year-round. I shall now expose how these soup diminishers are fundamentally ableist and xenophobic.
Not all of us can purchase a cold snack during the summer. In fact, many of us merely have a "hodgepodge" of ingredients in our fridge, too in dire straits to purchase a "popsicle" or, worse a "boba". And what better to throw together with this hodgepodge than soup?
Many of us also become sick during the summer. Alas, I have fallen sick to the summer sniffles. Indeed, in this dire time of the coronavirus-19, we need soup more than ever. It is even worse for those who suffer from long coronavirus. Soup's medicinal properties are well-known -- indeed, liquid "medicines" could even be classified as soup. To deny these sickly soup lovers the object of their desire, then, is frankly ableist and disturbing. The sick deserve their soup, no matter what season. As I have referenced in other blog posts of mine, soup is a human right. It should have been included in the Geneva Convention, but the forces of solid-food capitalism prevented that from occurring. Shame on those who deny soup to their fellow citizens.
The idea of a wintry soup season is also xenophobic. Indeed, you summer soup naysayers are no worse than cream of mushroom Confederates. As aforementioned, the existence of a wintry "soup season" denies our Southern Hemisphere broth-ren of the right to choose their own soup season. Have we no respect for the Chileans concocting their cazuela de pollos, the Mozambicans making their sopas de feicao, or the Malagasys mixing their delightful lasopys? (Note: I do not include Australians as I do not respect them.) I think that the evil-minded enemies of soup among us do not respect our Soup-altern friends.
I depart now from telling these soup-haters to go to a brothless hell. I now move to describe the pleasures and wonders of a year-round soup season.
Wow! Increíble! Giddy up! Alhamdulillah! Soup all the time is incredible. Once one has that epiphany, their life will never be the same. I am different, as I was born with this knowledge. Now, my disciples, follow me. Imagine you come home from work on an August night, worn out, sick to your stomach from your corporate "pizza lunch". All you want is something to calm the storm inside you -- and you turn to soup. What could be better than a pho to ease the pain? A tom yum to tickle the inspiration inside you? I have experienced many a night like this. Soup can accompany you to a Labor Day picnic and a Fourth of July souree. In the heat of the Northern Hemisphere summer, soup becomes a safe haven for our homeless compatriots. As the great champion of soup Bob "The Rambler" Dylan once said, soup provides us all shelter from the summer storm.
Like Robert Dylan, I now pose open essay. But it is not his "Blood on the Tracks" album, no, mine is "Broth on the Tracks". Let us enjoy soup year-round. Let us share a bowl whether in the heat or the cold. Let us all spoon a soup while we spoon each other. Slurpers of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but soup stains.
Thank you comrades,
A Soup Connoisseur
コメント