Today I drink bone broth straight
from the white mug
a friend gave me, years ago,
inscribed with lyrics, in red:
“I Love You, Lord” . . .
(and I lift my mug).
No kidding. Someone made a mug of my song.
Is it soup yet?
Four months of daily chicken soup translates to gallons. I’m a leaky vessel, swamped in broth. Still sick.
And still curious. How can I make this taste better?
Varying fresh herbs and aromatic veges subtly alters the taste. Chicken and rice enrich nutrition and texture. Peas add a jolt of green.
But it’s salt—cheap, elemental salt—that unlocks all the hidden flavors.
My mother once read me a tale built around an insecure father’s question, and his youngest daughter’s unforgettable answer.
“How much do you love me?” he asked.
“As meat loves salt, ” she replied.
Even longer ago, Jesus told his followers, “You are the salt of the earth.”
In a long season short on answers I understand this as never before. Salt offers a foretaste of heaven.
Salt mingles. It balances unwanted sweetness; it also suppresses bitterness. Too much kills.
The right amount evokes nuance and satisfaction.
Blah, bland, blashly
For 60-some years I’ve disliked broth. Too boring. In a word, blashly.
Go back 200 years and you’ll find blashly describes overcooked veges and thin soup.
Sometimes what heals us … at first, repels us
Who knew a mess of used bones
plus the right herbs and aromatics
generate healthy craving?
Refilling my mug, I give thanks for curiosity—seemingly hard-wired into our psyches.
And there’s this: Salt plus sound displays singular, hidden magic.
Click here to watch this brief video: Using a tone generator, the experimenter shakes table salt over a vibrating metal plate. As the pitch rises, the salt granules form new, increasingly complex patterns, for each tone, a different design.
Here’s to the hidden dance of salt.
You only get one life.
Please. Be the salt.
Photo: Dan Michael Sinadjan on Unsplash