Seven of us gathered recently at my table on a Sunday afternoon, and as the celebration drew to an end, we sipped hot tea, fortified with a thimbleful or two of dark rum. And since we aren't quite as young as we once were, the conversation soon turned to getting through the winter in good health and spirit.
"I make a pot of soup every week this time of year and throw in the kitchen sink," said my neighbor Zilah, who hails from the beautiful island of Dominica in the West Indies. "Onions, garlic, hot peppers, chicken backs, ham bone. I enjoy a bowl every night. It keeps me going." In minutes, cold- and flu-fighting antidotes were holding court, everybody with a trusty remedy in mind.
A teaspoon or two of honey mixed with cider vinegar and sipped daily was touted. And so was a daily cup or two of hot tea brewed with grated ginger. My friend Arvelia favored a cup of hot water laced with a teaspoon or so of fresh aloe vera, or with a pinch of cayenne pepper, or both.
"I think any hot liquid made with ingredients such as hot peppers and garlic will clear up congestion and make you feel better," said my son, Roy, a third-year medical student, sounding worldly. "That's why when I am home I reach for my mother's soups."
And so did I. To this day I have vivid memories of years ago in southern Alabama, hurrying home from school on cold winter afternoons for Mama's soups, which were as improvisational as a jazz score. First she made the soup stock out of chicken trimmings -- backs and necks -- or a meaty ham bone or a few pieces of neck bone that she had packed in plastic bags and containers and stuck in the deep freezer. Once the stock was bubbling and sending off heady aromas of onions and hot cayenne peppers, she added whatever ingredients were at hand, no particular recipe in mind. Some days her soups were thick with dried black eyed-peas or crowder peas (also known as Southern or cow peas) or lima beans and a ham bone, and cooked until creamy and delicious.
At other times the stock was laced with home-canned tomatoes and green beans, a few sliced turnip or rutabaga roots, or a handful of leafy greens, or my favorite of all, sleek okra pods. When Mama made chicken soup, a scant half cup of rice or macaroni was stirred into the pot of soup for heft, I remember her saying.
Often a bowl or two of the hearty offering was my meal for the evening, enjoyed with a wedge or two of crusty cornbread -- simple and soul-satisfying. And to this day, I have few memories of childhood winter colds, just the gustatory pleasure of those soups.
Years later during visits to the sunny island of Jamaica, the black-eyed pea and lima bean soups of my childhood reappeared as red pea soup, as if a shaman's act, reminding me that I was spiritually at home. In Jamaica the soup, which is actually made with red beans, is simmered with a meaty pork bone and laced with the locally grown, hot, hot Scotch bonnet peppers, plus herbs and spices and coconut milk. A delight.
"Don't forget to add a pinch of ginger to the red pea soup," said my Jamaican friend, Joy Elliott, the other day. "It aids digestion and fights off colds." I always do. Stay well.
Joyce White is the author of "Brown Sugar" and "Soul Food." She lives in New York City and can be contacted at jwhitesoul@aol.com.
