Two Cheers for Soup!

My wife has introduced me to the pleasure of soup. Of course, I grew up with soup, but it was rarely associated with pleasure. My mother lovingly cooked wonderful meals and baked wonderful desserts, but whenever we had soup it was more of an afterthought - a quick meal before we needed to hurry somewhere or something to heat up to fight the flu that would hit our household like a hurricane every winter. (One notable exception to this - mom made, and still makes, a killer split pea soup) It was a quick can of Campbell's that had too much water and not enough substance. It didn't taste bad, but it was never something to savor.

When my wife makes soup, it is a brew of imported German spices and bullion, combined with enough noodles to make spaghetti jealous. I love watching her cook, combining an artist's intensity with a bird-like quickness and a very German sense of purpose, none of which covers up, indeed it highlights, the fact that she is pouring love into the concoction for its final perfection. When she is finished, soup is no-longer an afterthought or an efficient source of vitamins. It is a meal, hot, steaming and worth savoring. When I eat it, usually frazzled after a long day of work, I can feel its minerals healing my body, my wife's love awakening my heart (as the adage goes) through my stomach.

Soup isn't an American factory product that comes in a can. It is an art. Justin tells me that young French chefs are tested by the professionals on their ability to make soup. Daniela understands this.

Clemens, who has been married at least a quarter century, tells me one of the joys of marriage is if you are patient and adventurous enough, you can continue to explore your wife and discover nuggets of beauty that amaze you. Daniela's soup is one that I found early.