The Only Exception

To be frank, my favorite soup doesn’t exist… in the traditional sense. However, if you’re willing to stretch your imagination, then there is one exception.

I have some reserves and I have arguments against the beloved and well-enjoyed, S-O-U-P. Soup. Yes, soup.

Soup was never an option off a menu, a canned food item at home or a meal of choice that I favored. Is it because soup isn’t delicious? Absolutely not. There are far too many soup options, for it not to be liked by the majority of people. To be fair, I crave being able to sit down and enjoy a big bowl of soup on a rainy, windy and/or chilly day. That desire is just not often there.

Whenever I’m sick, people beg on for me to eat the infamous chicken noodle soup to heal me, to nourish me. Reluctant, I pick out only the noodles and eat them one by one. I sip a few spoonfuls of the broth and the rest is irrelevant to me.

At restaurants, tomato bisque? Not interested. French Onion Soup? Absolutely not.

Now for the exception-

Growing up in a Philippine household, a dish called Sinigang, is a family favorite. Some may refer to it as “vegetable soup.” However, I never knew what to see it and/or label it as- soup? An entire dish in itself? A tangy tamarind broth filled with bok choy, eggplant, beans, onions and beef or pork. It was and still is delicious every time I have it. How could this possibly be a potential soup I find delectable? It was because I picked at it, like a bird picks at its food. I would take the broth, one that I actually enjoyed, and I would scoop out pieces of the bok choy. I would then add more of the tamarind seasoning to kick up my broth just the way that I liked it. I ate this with rice. In fact, sometimes when eating it as leftovers, I would boil rice right into the mix. Needless to say, it was more than a satisfying meal. In a sense, this honorary soup tasted like a piece of my childhood.

Grown up, I still continue to enjoy Sinigang with my mother and my grandmother; three generations. Although I don’t eat it often, it is quite a treat when I do.

So yes, soup in the general sense doesn’t seem to please me. Yet, I find warmth and satisfaction in the dish I speak of. Come to realize it, that was the only “soup” I’ve ever needed.

Call me picky, call me anti-soup, noodle-obsessed, but soup is just a bowl full of hits and misses. The thought of soup gives me that warm and fuzzy feeling, but you won’t catch me eating a bowl of beef and barley, tomato or any canned soup for that matter, anytime soon. I’ll stick to my roots.