Polar fleece and Gore-Tex can only do so much. With Minnesota fully launched into cold weather, the only way to survive is from the inside out. In other words, the only way you're going to make it until April is if you get a pot of soup started on the stove, pronto.
The soup will not only warm you, but it well might nourish parts of you that haven't thawed out since that trip to the cabin last August. Soup is ultimate soul food, and I recommend daily ingestion when the weather gets this cold. Do I eat soup for breakfast? Only if I want to summon the fortitude to shovel the front walk, so yes.
I do have one problem with soup. I am, by nature, an overcooker. By that I don't mean that I cook food for too long. I just make too much of it. There must have been a long-ago Irish relative who worked in the kitchen at a residence the size of Downton Abbey, because I make enough batches of every recipe to feed most of the neighbors on my southwest Minneapolis block, plus any hardy souls who are trotting along the parkway, too. After a certain point, even the tastiest Cranberry Bean and Red Wine Soup With 20 Cloves of Garlic starts to seem a little, well, repetitious.
And that's where the swapping comes in. To make this happen, you will have to put aside your native Minnesotan apprehension of entertaining your friends for any reason other than your kids' high school graduation. Face it, that's essentially a money-raising racket; this is a friendship enhancement project. And stop worrying about the size or state of your living quarters. No one cares if there's cat hair on the couch or if there's a pothole in your kitchen linoleum. They're cold, they're lonely and they're hungry, so call up some friends and ask them to come over with six containers of their favorite soup, frozen, labeled and ready to be stored in each other's freezers like Minnesota's version of buried treasure.
I started hosting soup swaps eight years ago, and I've held them every fall and spring since. Hosting soup swaps has given me the opportunity to experience the masterpieces that everyday people can create, when they're given a reason and an invitation. I've marveled at the friendships and bonds that are formed when we share the stories of our precious creations with each other.
Like the friend who told us that she was the only grandkid who ever cooked with Grandma, and how now all her siblings want to come over to her house for bowls of Grandma's Famous Vegetable Soup. Or the newlywed who swapped Artichoke Bisque, the soup she'd prepared the night her boyfriend (finally!) proposed. Or the friend who told of her restful and energizing vacation at a Colorado dude ranch, and how she'd persuaded the chef to share the recipe for Roasted Poblano and Squash Soup to help her remember that magical time.
I love swapping soup because it's a practical way to stay connected with people whose company I enjoy, and whom I don't connect with nearly often enough. Usually, our crazy-busy lives keep us from doing more than "liking" each other's kids' recital pictures on Facebook. But life is too short not to get together with your friends and share face-to-face stories and laughs. And life is too short not to eat lots of great, homemade soup.
I invite you to carve out a soup-bowl size moment from your overscheduled life and make some space for a soup swap. Invite friends, neighbors and co-workers to share soup and stories with you. It doesn't matter how cold it is outside. You'll generate enough warmth with your stories and your soup. With any luck, it will be the start of a new tradition in your corner of the world, and you'll be building community with every bowlful.