Soup Swap

Looking out the window right now, the rain is coming down in sheets. It’s Seattle, in February, what do you expect?

You’ll hear no complaints from me right now. Last week was dry and lovely, with blue skies and sunshine. I went for runs along Lake Washington, I marveled at the snowcapped mountains and the way the sun goes all orangy-pink as it drops down behind the Olympics, how the color reflects in the water of the lakes and the Sound and ripples out infinitely. It was beautiful.

But when the sound of raindrops on roof woke me up early on Monday morning, I smiled. I’m beginning to like the rain—an old and idiosyncratic friend. Perhaps I really am becoming a Seattleite.

It’s time to make soup.



What better way to stay warm and cozy inside than to make soup? Soup has always been among my very favorite foods—and winter in Seattle provides an excuse to make lots. In Seattle, we even swap soup.

Yes, I said swap soup.

Soup Swap is the brainchild of my friend Knox. A few years back, in the midst of a Seattle winter, Knox got bored with his own cooking. Sure you can make a big pot of soup—but then you're stuck eating the same soup every day for a week. Knox wanted to mix it up. He invited friends to bring soups they had made and to trade them, thus the soup swap was born. A website was made, guidelines posted, and people have been soup swapping ever since.

I stumbled onto the website nearly two years ago and thought it was a brilliant idea. Knox and I started emailing and, when he heard that I had just moved to Seattle, he invited me to the swap he and his partner were hosting. I showed up with six quarts of soup frozen in individual containers, not entirely sure what to expect.

All the soups were put on the long dining table—there were bean soups and noodle soups, cream soups and spicy soups. As people continued to arrive, the contributions grew. Some soups came with toppings or add-ons—croutons, crackers, a package of cornbread mix. People had done everything they could to pimp their soup, to make it more attractive to other swappers.



Then began what is called the Telling of the Soup. Each participant stood up and explained the genesis of their soup. This was the chance to promote their product and people were funny and tantalizing by turns (chorizo may have been mentioned). It was more selling of the soup, with bonus points for humor.

“The two words for this soup,” said one of the guests when it came his turn, “are simplicity and murder. Two innocent butternut squashes were decapitated, cut in half, and had their guts ripped out.”

We heard the stories behind some soups, treasured recipes, family heritage. Again, chorizo may have been mentioned.

Then it was time for choosing of the soup. All participants drew a piece of paper that had a number, the person who drew number one got to choose the soup of their choice. This was a moment of some suspense, because there was a prize for the first soup chosen.

It was the soup with chorizo in it. Are you surprised?



Things sped up as person after person chose their first soup. With nineteen people playing, some soups were gone before we got to the end of the first round (the chorizo again, are you surprised?). But with so many soups to pick from, everyone got some of their favorites.

This continued for six rounds, until we each had a mixed bag of soup. There was a prize for the soup that was chosen last, and the official swapping portion of the evening was over. Some people left, to hurry home with their frozen bounty, others hung out and chatted and helped themselves to the tacos that Knox and Vic had made.

At first I thought the soup swap was a clever and fun thing, a way to liven up the winter and fill the freezer. I only realized the deeper significance of the event after it was over, after I woke up the next day wondering what soup I should eat first. There was a mixed mushroom soup that Knox and Vic had made, an intriguing carrot and lemongrass soup that hailed from the Rebar restaurant in Vancouver, a pretty pink lentil concoction.



I could tell you that I love soup swap because I like soup, or because I work at home and it’s awfully convenient to heat up a thing of frozen soup for lunch. A quart of soup is enough that it can even be a decent dinner for two, with a salad and some bread and cheese. It is certainly fun having a selection of soups to choose from, none of which I had to life a finger over, but I think there’s something else at play here.

What I realized over the next few weeks, as I worked my way through my soups, is that this was food that was handmade, by people I didn’t know. Sure we all eat in restaurants, having strangers cook for us is nothing new, but soup swap isn’t something you can buy. The only way you can participate is by cooking yourself, trading for someone else’s soup. It sounds simple, but the actual process feels a bit profound.



Each soup was made with care—perhaps a little bit of a competitive spirit, even—by people who don’t necessarily know each other. Knox doesn’t even know everyone. Some people are friends, others he doesn’t see on a regular basis but they all come out for Soup Swap. Still others are total strangers.

There was a day when such things were more common—a day of church picnics and barn-raisings and community gatherings—but those days are in the past for most of us. Seldom in a busy urban life do we stop and cook for our community. I can't think of a single example, really.

This is the simple genius of Soup Swap. As Knox writes on the website, soup swappers are a “loose confederation of folks who love good food, strengthening community, and think that it [soup swap] is one way to be a little more focused on simple things that matter most.”

We also all brought canned good to donate to the local food bank, sharing our good fortune in that was as well.

Absolutely simple, absolutely brilliant—and I'm not the only one who thinks so. This is from The Gracious Bowl, where they hosted a swap this year:

There's something about soup swap. When I was well into the fourth hour of making my Argentine Locro, checking the brisket and waiting for the meat to fall apart into tender tendrils of goodness, I felt a wave of warmth and pride. Preparing your soup for 'the Swap' is like getting your child ready for the first day of school. There's a lot of work, nurturing and care leading up to the day you share your little creation and send them off into the world. I had a moment where I became conscious not only of the tradition we're starting but of the other swappers out there in their own kitchens doing the very same thing. It's a nice feeling.



There’s something really lovely about soup swap—and while it may have started in Seattle, the movement has spread. There’s a national Soup Swap Day now, in late January, but you can swap whenever you want. If you send the info about your swap to the site, Knox will add it to the growing collection.

There’s something really lovely about a soup swap—but don’t take my word for it. Give it a try yourself!

Just make sure you've got an empty corner of your freezer; six quarts is a blessed amount of soup. It might just be enough soup to get you through to spring.



CREAMY WILD MUSHROOM SOUP

Everyone else might have had their eye on the Spanish soup with chorizo in it, but my first pick of soups last year was the mixed wild mushroom soup that Knox's hubby Victor made. Happily a quart of it went home with me, and I have since been able to wrangle the recipe. It comes from the book S.O.U.P.S. (Seattle's Own Undeniably Perfect Soups), by Michael Congdon, which might just be my Northwest winter survival guide from here on out.
Soup, it's what's for dinner.

1/4 cup butter
4 shallots, minced
2 lbs. assorted wild mushrooms, cleaned and thinly sliced
2 Tbs. white wine vinegar
1/4 cup flour
1/2 cup white wine
1 Tbs salt
2 tsp black pepper
1 Tbs chopped rosemary
1/4-1/2 tsp ground cloves
1 Tbs grated orange zest
4 cup vegetable stock
2 cup heavy cream

In a medium soup pot melt butter on a medium high heat and add shallots, stirring until they are coated. Reduce heat to medium and cover, cooking until the shallots begin to caramelize (about 5 mins). Add mushrooms, stir, and cover. Cook until the mushrooms are reduced by half (10-12 mins). Add vinegar, stir, and cover again. Cook an additional five minutes to allow flavors to meld.

Add flour to the liquid that has formed in the bottom of the pot, and stir to make sure the flour dissolves and any clumps are mixed in. Add wine and stir well.

Lower heat and add salt, pepper, rosemary, orange, cloves, and stock. Cover and let simmer ten minutes. Add cream and simmer a further five minutes. Do not let boil.