A Little Blue Container Full of Love

I loveeeeeeeeee soup.

Seriously, I LOVE soup.

I think my love for it started when I was a child. My grandmother, who we called Mama, made the most delicious soups.

I remember her walking me to kindergarten every day and then bringing me a hot lunch at lunchtime. I can still so vividly picture the little blue container she would put my soup in. And she used to add those tiny baby pasta seashells, which I absolutely loved!!

It’s funny how something as simple as a bowl of soup can hold so many memories.

To this day, my family knows just how much I love soup. And I’m definitely not picky about what kind! Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese, Chinese, Caribbean—you name it, and there’s a pretty good chance I’ll eat it.

My husband is from Norway, and he introduced me to creamy Norwegian salmon soups. He also went to chef school, so you can imagine the kind of yumminess I get to enjoy!!

Lucky me.

I think, more than anything, soup brings back warm memories for me. There’s something comforting about it. It’s nourishing for your body, but somehow it can feel nourishing for your soul too.

I mean, think about it. When we’re sick, what do people tell us to eat?

Soup!

It almost doesn’t matter what part of the world you’re from. Every culture seems to have its own version of that warm, comforting bowl that’s supposed to make everything feel just a little bit better.

And maybe that’s why I love it so much.

For me, soup isn’t just food. It’s Mama. It’s that little blue container. It’s tiny pasta seashells. It’s childhood. It’s being cared for. And now, it’s also my husband making something delicious in our kitchen and creating new memories for our family.

Food has a funny way of doing that—connecting the memories of where we came from with the life we’re living now.

I definitely need to start sharing some of my family’s favorite soup recipes here.

So, stay tuned.

There will be soup. Lots and lots of soup. :)