Vegetarian Soup, or Why you should never leave my mother alone with a simmering pot

My sister is a warrior, a survivor, a kicked cancer’s ass twice and wont go down without another fight, living her life to the fullest in a healthier way kind of girl. She has made many lifestyle changes; she exercises, gets good rest and inks in time with family and friends doing things she loves. One of her lifestyle changes was to eat healthier. She’s given up caffeine, white sugar and most desserts, insisting that decaf coffee is indeed satisfactory. A few years ago, her goal was to eat meatless meals three to four times a week, that did not involve pasta or pizza.

So on a cold and rainy January day, she opened her Vegan cookbook and picked out a Navy Bean soup recipe. She had all the ingredients, and all the time needed to soak, simmer and cook the beans into what promised to be a thick hearty soup. While our mom was folding the never ending stacks of laundry, she washed and soaked beans in a deep bowl. There were three different kinds of beans and the recipe promised a delicious and healthy meal.

After a few hours, she rinsed the beans, added them to a pot with the other ingredients and cooked them as directed. She has no issues following directions and pointed them out when our mom complained that the flame on the stove was to high, the liquid level to low or the need to uncover the pot as the soup simmered. The soup itself seemed a bit watery, and bland tasting. My sister hoped that it would thicken and become more flavorful the longer it simmered on the stove. At least that’s what the recipe stated. It was an all afternoon affair, the cooking of the soup, the cleaning of the house and the mother daughter gossip about family members, Dr. Phil and of course the never ending saga of Victor and his love life, from her favorite soap opera.

Late afternoon my sister had to leave the house to pick up her kids. She asked my mom to keep an eye on the pot, but to not do anything else. She’d be right back. She left the house and the simmering pot under my mother’s watchful eye. As she walked in the house about 30 minutes later, she commented on the rich aroma that filled the kitchen.

“ I guess I didn’t smell it because we were here all day” she remarked to our mom.

“ I guess, maybe” our mom replied with a small smile and nod of her head.

When it came time for dinner, my sister poured two generous bowls of hearty soup and placed them on the table. It looked like an ad, the soup steaming in a bowl, rich and savory looking, sharing the table with a loaf of crusty Italian bread and a side salad. The only thing missing from the table was a candle stuck in a repurposed chianti bottle. They sat down to eat, putting napkins onto laps, adjusting water glasses and picking up the spoons. The moment of truth was at hand. Was the recipe a keeper, would this all day soak & simmer vegetarian soup get added to her meal rotation?

She dipped her spoon into the bowl and tasted the soup for the first time. It was delicious!

“Mom!” she exclaimed, “ This tastes so good! It’s exactly what I wanted! I guess the beans just needed time to cook together”

“ If you say so Manu” my mom replied with another smile, and tasted her soup.

They ate in companionable silence for a moment. The only sounds were the clinking of the spoons on the bowls and the low hum of the news playing in the living room.

Suddenly my sister put her spoon down, and looked directly at my mom.

“What did you do?” she asked my mom. “Please tell me what you added to the soup.”

She looked up startled, like a deer in headlights she started to protest, and then laughed.

“Why, why would you think I added anything?” she retorted back at my sister. “You told me to stay out of the kitchen!”

“Did you?” my sister shot back, looking at her mother accusingly.

The woman at least had the grace to look away, and down at her bowl

“Is the soup good? Does it matter what I did or what I added? It’s good. It’s healthy, it’s what you wanted, no?” she told her daughter. “ I just added some things that would add more flavor. You know, I found some cream in the refrigerator, and a little bit more salt and a dash, almost nothing of red pepper flakes. Oh, and I thought about adding red wine, but I didn’t. See, nothing else”

My sister sighed and took another spoonful of soup. She couldn’t deny that the cream added a richer texture and that the soup definitely looked and tasted better than when she left the house earlier that day. She’d add those new ingredients in pencil to the margins of the recipe before she put the book away she thought to herself. As she got up to pour another serving into her bowl, my mom added,

“Oh, yeah I almost forgot. You had a chunk of pancetta left over from Christmas. I browned it, and added it to the soup. You can always make a recipe from a book better you know.”

My sister stopped mid-pour and looked across the kitchen at her mother sitting at the table. Proud that her additions improved this soup from a book.

“Ma! I was gone for 22 minutes, how, when and, and this is a VEGETARIAN soup! No meat!” my sister exclaimed. “Why do you do this to me?”

And our mother, God bless her, looked at my sister, and said matter of factly:

“ I did not add meat, I added a small amount of pancetta. Your soup is now edible.”

And that’s how we learned to never leave our mom alone in our kitchen.