Welcome to Autumn
on soup, new beginnings and the best season ever made
Hi friends,
We are officially in soup season, sound the alarm. There are many a soup hater out there, some of whom even read this newsletter. This is a safe space for soup — and I want to make a case here today that you make yourself some today. This minute even. There is something so comforting and nourishing about soup. The chopping of the vegetables, the soaking of the beans, the boiling of the water. The endless leftovers that keeps one fed through the week.
The kitchen is and has for a long time been my safe haven, the place I practised ritual before I even knew I was practising ritual. The place I feel excited to experiment and make mistakes, the place where I fail over and over again at making good banana bread, and yet I persevere. And soup is at the centre of that. I tend to make soup year round, it’s one of the easier dishes for a vegetarian to eat and still get the nutrition one needs.
I’ve always had an obsession with soup. I remember at 16 years old, when my parents still lived in London, discovering how easy it was to make an exquisitely delicious gazpacho and experimenting with recipes I found in my family’s cookbooks as well as a Jamie Oliver recipe I found on the internet. I’d excitedly serve my parents the cold tomato soup for the fourth night in a row (with nothing else to accompany it), but this time chunky — the next night smooth, a la Andalucia. They never complained: who was this kid who suddenly wanted to cook for them? The love affair has continued, though I have diversified my repertoire (only slightly).
In the Northern hemisphere, the Autumn Equinox was last week, as I’m sure many of you are aware. This turning of the seasons always feels like I can finally be myself. I don’t have to pretend I love summer and wearing shorts anymore. I don’t have to pretend that summer is the most exciting time of the year. I no longer have to take two showers a day in an attempt to manage the pools of sweat one accumulates simply by breathing air.
When I lived in Bali in my 20s, every day was summer. I loved it with abandon, but I hated the relentless sunshine and was almost always red in the face. I drank endless diet cokes and iced coffees in an attempt to quench my thirst, which just resulted in me being consistently dehydrated. I was so hot all the time.
Everyone said:
“Wow, you’re so lucky to live in paradise.”
To which I replied:
“I know, I don’t know how I managed to pull this off.”
I didn’t tell them how I really felt (so as not to sound like a complete asshole) which was that I wanted to put on some socks and a cardigan, just once.
In a place with seasons, I can rest in what feels like the real me. I am an October creature: I was born smack bang in the middle of the Autumnal season, and I never feel better than walking through falling leaves and rolling around in pumpkin patches. Well, I’ve never actually been to a pumpkin patch, but I would imagine I’d feel great there.
This week was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. It is so much more fitting that this time of year is the start of the year rather than the depths of winter: we leave the highs of summer behind and sink into Autumnal bliss. In a very shiksa move, I made some matzoh ball soup — my first soup of the season. If you are a seasoned matzoh ball lover like myself, you will be familiar with the specific way the first bite of it feels in your mouth. How delicious the texture is — and how completely satisfying it is to have a soup with dumplings before you.
I hope to make many a soup this season. May you be so lucky as to have soup in your life, too.
Thanks for being here,
Nora x
What I’m reading:
Alicia Kennedy’s substack - it’s mainly a food-focused substack, but Alicia lives in Puerto Rico and wrote a thoughtful, despairing note on what it’s been like to be there since the hurricane this month.
What I’m listening to:
I saw Father John Misty last week in concert, and he played this song from the new album. Had the audience hugging and kissing and crying all at the same time.
What I’m cooking:
This and many other lentil soups, because, as a waiter recently said to me when I asked if the meat and lentil dish on the menu could be made vegetarian: “Vegetarians love lentils.” Boy, do they.