This week, it got cold, and I got a cold. Let me start by saying I am no good at being sick. By this I mean I am not stoic in suffering. Because I know this, and don't like to be around sick me as much as anyone else, I throw everything I can think of at getting better. This means gargling with salt water, drinking copious amounts of ginger tea and grapefruit juice, swallowing spoonfuls of Manuka honey and raw garlic, dabbing dots of tea-tree oil at the back of my throat, steaming my bowling ball head with Vicks Vapour Rub, and soup. Lots of soup.
The restorative powers of chicken soup are well-documented. It's clear, and comforting and well, clean, which, when your body feels like it's been overtaken by germs, is no small thing. This recipe, by Australian cookbook doyenne Margaret Fulton, poaches a whole chicken in an onion-infused water or broth, then takes it out to remove its skin and bones, chops its white flesh into bite-size pieces and adds it back to the pot with fat rounds of leek and carrot. With a bit of parsley torn on top and a few grinds of black pepper it's simple and satisfying and just feels like it's making you better. At the very least, it makes you stop, and sit and savour, while you peruse the official FIFA World Cup Guide and decide which team you will support after Australia (Argentina!) and flip through cookbooks deciding what you will cook when you get up at 2 and 4am for a month to watch matches. It's going to be a busy June/July. Lucky I got the cold out of the way. And some soup in the freezer. Whether you're sick or well, or just crazy enough to forgo sleep for four weeks of football once every four years, it's always good to have on hand.
If you want an insight into my state of mind at any given time, just look in my freezer. If it's extremely well-stocked, chances are I'm feeling stressed. In my weird, wonky logic, as long as I have good food at my disposal, then the work will get finished, the deadlines will be met and the pressure to get everything done will feel a little less intense. At times like these I seek comfort and more than anything, this is what I make.
When I was a child, and was regularly asked "what's your favourite meal?" (when such questions were deeply important), my answer would always be
minestrone. My mother made it often in our house and when I left home I adapted it to suit my somewhat lazier cooking style. Instead of soaking beans overnight and frying them off with the bacon at the beginning of the cooking process, I add some pre-cooked beans at the end. Instead of homemade stock, I'm happy with store-bought. And with making a big pot and then freezing it in single serve portions for my time of need. That time is now. My freezer is full. Which means it's all going to be okay.
Sometimes, life is hard. And for those times, there's soup. It's kind of like the edible equivalent of a hug - warm, comforting, generous. Here, outside my window in Sydney, the leaves flutter pale green and new on the trees. Spring is definitely in the air but there are still just enough cool days left to wear jumpers, work indoors without resentment and... make soup. Once you have a pot on the stove, bubbling away, you can relax, knowing that for all the other things that might be swirling around your head, at least you're fed. And fed well.
There's something about pumpkin soup in particular, that defies difficulty. I think partly just because of its relentlessly cheerful colour. While I find a lot of blended vegetable soups bear an unfortunate resemblance to baby or else retirement home food, this one is neither bland or fusty. The cinnamon imparts a lovely, warm flavour to the pureed pumpkin, the red onion a subtle sweetness, the chilli a nice kick, and the rice an unexpected texture, and a satisfying starchiness.
For those who'll have a spare pumpkin or three lying around next week, this one's for you.
