Some years ago, right after Thanksgiving, I reflected on Chowhound.com about how much I hate soup. I wrote the piece as I was suffering though a bowl of The Wife’s absolutely putrescent turkey soup (which she knows I can’t stand, but which she continues to make, for reasons unknown, though I suspect it may have something to do with the Women’s Movement). Slurping, I realized: I hate soup. Not just turkey soup, all soup, everywhere. Chicken noodle, pho, Vichyssoise, gazpacho, all of it. Me, who likes all things Italian, I hate even minestrone – in fact, especially minestrone!
One of my favorite early twenty-first century reads was Rebecca Stang’s The Invention of the Restaurant, in which she traces the growth of the modern eating establishment. The restaurant, as we know it today, came into existence in France around the time of the Revolution – it was a place where they mostly served soup, and the name “restaurant” is derived from the French word for “restorative.” These early soup kitchens (and serving areas) were, in a sense, places to get soup, which was late eighteenth-century considered to be food that restores you: health food. Etymology aside, who reading this post goes out of their way for health food? In fact, do not the very words “health food” conjure images of saw dusty, “good for you” and tasteless glop. From the start, in other words, this watery stuff had a questionable reason for coming into existence. Is it any surprise the Reign of Terror was not far behind?
Have you ever had low-sodium soup? It’s terrible. And how many times have you had a sip of soup and said, with a hint of chastisement, “Needs salt.” Loads of times, I’m sure. Salt is what makes soup interesting. Without it, you’ve got nothing. So what’s the big deal with soup! It’s just salt, which is a whole lot better on steak and French fries. And because soup is mostly highly concentrated liquid sodium, it is very dangerous for those of us with high blood pressure – in fact, in a very real sense, SOUP KILLS!
Now, before this rant spirals out of control, let me be very clear. I don’t hold it against you if you like soup. You’re entitled to your tastes. I’m sure soup is consumed by some very nice people every day all around the world. I just find soup to be infinitely insipid – and I would be pleased to never have it set before me again.
Though I’m sure that is not to be the case.
With the winter months approaching, I’ll no doubt see much more of this malevolently steaming stuff ladled out like slop for a hungry barnyard. And as I grow older, and lose all my teeth (along with my hearing) I’ll probably actually look forward to my twice-daily bowl of tongue-blistering broth. Of course, at that point, I’d probably perk up at the thought of a surprise sponge bath.
Until that day, I hate soup… sometimes, though, it can be okay, I guess.
