Dangerous Compassions

soup freedom

I used to think soup was a big deal.  I’d chop garlic and onions intensely, all psyched out.  Soup!  Serious stuff!

Several servings–soup in the fridge, for days.  Where’s my bay leaves?  Put on an apron!  Open a window to let out steam!

Now I’m laughing at the past me.  Life is so different.  Now, if I don’t feel like chopping an onion, no problem.  I put some water in the smallest size pot, add two crushed garlic cloves, a chopped carrot, some sweet potato, and salt.

There you go, 15 minutes later.  Soup.


That’s what I did today, but I had some leftover quinoa I threw in, at the end.  Spices–sure, whatever I want.

I had a question recently–what differentiates soup from boiled veg.  What is soup?  I’ve thought it was just food, extra wet.  Food you can slurp.

Definitely I’ve wondered, the line between soup and chili.  How much beanage can a soup have, before it crosses the line into chili?  Is that the determining factor?  What is chili?


Soup is magical.  Something alchemical happens, to transform boiled veg into soup.  What is it?  It becomes greater than the sum of its parts.

Yet sometimes, I like to eat the liquid separate from the solids.  The liquid us such a joy, by itself, especially with ginger.  Then the solids, I can drizzle with tahini and sprinkle some salt.  So it’s like I’m eating soup and not-soup at the same time.

previous soup

I used to make broccoli soup a lot.  My ex and I would enjoy that, for days.  I was vegan back then.  It was so simple, but broccoli is so good–doesn’t need fanciness.

It was garlic and onion sauteed in olive oil.  Added veg bullion and a fuckton of broccoli.  Enough water.  Ten minutes or so later, soup.

Might have had a less water version where I added some plain soymilk at the end, for creaminess, but yeah.  That was my main soup for a long time.  I would also make split pea soup, lentil soup, red lentil dal a lot.  Potato leek soup was great.


I had this whole plan.  I was going to make veg burgers with black lentils, but we ran out of propane.  Ming is sleeping, and he’s the designated tank switcher, around here.  So he’ll switch tanks when the sun comes up.


Soup is life.  I love it.  I’m very lucky I can make whatever soup I want, and don’t need the burden of following recipes.  I just read a bunch of recipes for the thing I’m curious about, usually, and try out my own version.  Thank Mother God–that’s my idea of fun: soup freedom.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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