As soon as I smell fall in the air, the first thing I get excited about doing is making a big batch of soup. Most often I don’t follow a recipe… I just open the fridge and start throwing everything in the pot. That’s what I like about soup. It usually doesn’t matter what ingredients you use because it still accomplishes the goal of warming you from the inside-out.
I have always been a figure skater. I have spent almost every Saturday morning of my entire life in the freezing cold rink. I like to think that this was where my love of soup came from. My mom would always cook up the yummiest chicken soup on Friday evening to enjoy after a Saturday morning skate. I would look so forward to the hour after the rink. The soup was like magic. It turned my fingers from icy cold to warm and toasty and gave me that moment to slow down, take a breath, and prepare for an exciting weekend ahead.
Now, I am the coach, and I am the one who makes the soup. I spend my Saturday mornings (post rink adventures) curled up in our deep window sills, mug of soup in hand, watching the leaves turning colours and fluttering to the ground. I feel at home in the fall. There is something about the change in the air that comforts me, and makes me appreciate what our little town has to offer before we settle down for a long, cold winter. The calm before the storm.