an ode


An Ode to my mother’s Chicken & Rice soup.

Oh, Chicken and rice goodness, how do I love thee?

No, really, y’all. I love this soup. In fact, I’m totally in love with soup in general right now. I love the idea of it, the heartiness of fall soups. I’m looking favorably upon stews right now too.

I ate a big bowl of said chicken and rice for lunch today the other day. It was oh so good and hearty and yummy and filling and did I mention that it was made with homemade chicken stock? That really makes it that much better.

It’s funny though; this got me thinking about changing tastes. I’ve long been really weird about soup. Nothing against it, it was simply that I preferred not to eat it very often. Oh, I have to be in the right mood for soup, I’d proclaim, forgoing whatever deliciosity was waved before me for something far more mundane and probably not nearly as good for me, either.

I don’t know why that is. And I don’t know where it changed, but I find myself wanting soup of late. I’ve eaten it for lunch at least twice this week. And I’ll probably do the same next week. I’m thinking about making pumpkin soup sometime soon, and if my mother actually makes it, I think I’ll try squash soup too.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to get past my dislike of squash in that case, however. Don’t really like squash.

At least, not yet.

Beyond the soup, I’ve noticed over the past few years that my tastes have started to change. There might be a few things I no longer eat that I used to. But I’ve mostly noticed that there are things I used to refuse to eat that I quite enjoy now. Take green beans, for example.

When I was wee, I hated those damned things. Hated. With the firey passion of a thousand red giant suns. Hated green beans. Until a few years ago, when one night I decided I wanted green beans. And now I loves them. Yummy green beans. Mmm, mmm yummy in my tummy.

The same thing happened far more recently with asparagus. I never ate it as a child. Love it. All steamed with some butter on it. Yummy in my tummy.

I guess the same thing is happening regarding soup. I don’t know if it’ll last, but I’m going to enjoy yummy fall and winter soups while it does.

Why do you think tastes change? I wonder about this sort of thing. What inside of me—be it body chemistry, brain chemistry or whatever—makes me change my mind about foods in this way? I wish I could tell you. But I’m pretty sure if I could, I’d be in a lab somewhere experimenting on people things.



2 Responses to “an ode”

  1. I used to be afraid of avocado. And artichoke. Not anymore! Being vegan has cured me of all sorts of irrational food aversions. I still hate cabbage and brussels sprouts, though.

  2. When I was a kid, there were things I wouldn’t touch – avocado, broccoli, cauliflower, spinach. (However, I have had a lifelong love for brussels sprouts. Go figure.)
    Somehow, along the way, I began craving those very things and will now happily sit down with a plate full of raw broc and cauli with raw spinach leaves and munch away.
    Perhaps it’s the body’s way of saying “HEY, DUMMY! Nutrition or DIE!”
    We do share a love of soup, though… especially homemade soups and stews.

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