My 80 something-year-old pharmacist told me this week that if you are sick with a cold, cough or the shakes, then the "Jewish Penicillin" will fix it.
Newsflash: I'm Indian. I have no idea what "Jewish Penicillin" is.
He looks at my blank face and with the biggest surprise, he says, "Why, it's just chicken soup! Every Jewish mother makes their kids chicken soup when they are sick."
I guess it's every mother's instinct to feed a sick child soup because, quite possibly, they believe it heals all.
Which it totally does! Whether it is satiating hunger or soothing the soul, chicken soup could be the answer we are really looking for (or for vegetarians like me, tomato soup) to fight the infections that are life struggles.
Soup was the antibiotic necessary to fight off the sniffles that nestled in my nostrils every winter. No amount of cough syrup, nasal spray, or tissues cleaned me out better than my mother's tomato soup.
The abundance of cumin and coriander seeds (because it is not the "Indian version" of tomato soup if it doesn't strip a layer off your tongue) awoke my sense of smell, shoving aside the mucus that made a home. It also did not hurt that my mother is the kindest and most generous soul when it comes to nursing my older sister and me back to health.
Hot broth was also the stimulant that brought a friendship back to life. When I was a senior in high school, a girl that I sat in front of during our physics class asked me to go out to dinner with her because I looked like I needed a good girlfriend to talk to.
At the time, I was struggling with figuring out where I fit in with my friends and my self-confidence was taking a serious nosedive. So, taking a chance (and thinking of all the potential exists if need be), I said yes.
On a blustery March in a small Vietnamese cafe, I got acquainted with the quiet girl that never talked in class until she became the best friend that a girl could ever ask for.
With warm spirals of steam emanated from a bowl and scents of fish sauce and mint that permeated the air around us, I look at her and we smiled. This was a confirmation that this friendship was meant to last a long time.
Savory chunks of chicken and veggies were the antidepressant elixir to heal the worst broken heart. In my formative years (13 years to be exact), when the boy I liked did not like me quite as much, I ran over to my favorite place in the world at that time: Panera. 15 minutes later, a cupful of lentil soup was passed into my hands.
A smile crept on to my face through traitorous tears and I learned that boys will come and go, but simple pleasures will last a lifetime.
Pockets of soup dumplings were the concoction for a good stress-reliever. One of my fondest memories with my college friends was when I tried Chinese soup dumplings for the first time. The two boys that I am best friends with now decided to take me to a nice soup dumpling place in Chinatown to celebrate the end of our exams.
I did not really know that a soup dumpling would squirt scalding liquid in my face if you did not bite into it exactly so. Lesson learned... bite it quickly and scarf it down. We laughed and talked for ages like gossiping old women, but I understood that in the midst of chaos, you have to take a moment and savor the warmth.
While an article on soup may seem a bit strange, I am forever fascinated by how one tiny item makes the biggest impact on my life. Whether it is physical illness or emotional ailments, chicken soup can indeed cure-all.
With the fall season well on its way and the weather getting cooler, soups of all kind are a welcomed blessing.
Pumpkin spice lattes may be a seasonal craving but the "Jewish penicillin" is a long-lasting thirst that leaves you wanting more.
