Chive Mushroom Soup

The protests continued all week but moved farther from our block, settling into a new geography I track on my phone the way I track the weather ╬ôçö ambient, persistent, reshaping the landscape without asking permission. James went to a march on Wednesday. I didn't go. I told him I wasn't ready and he said okay without making me explain, which is one of the reasons I love him ╬ôçö he lets me arrive at things on my own schedule. I donated to the International District Emergency Fund instead, and to a bail fund, and I sat at my laptop feeling like money was an insufficient substitute for presence but also knowing that a Korean-American woman's relationship to anti-Black racism requires a care and a humility I am still learning.

Kevin called Sunday ╬ôçö our weekly call, which has become the metronome of my pandemic life. He's been sober twenty-two months. He sounded thoughtful, more serious than usual. He said, "The guys in my meeting this week ╬ôçö some of them are struggling. Not with substances. With everything. The world is too loud." Kevin understands too-loud worlds. He has spent years learning to sit inside noise without reaching for the thing that makes it stop. I asked if he was okay. He said, "I'm okay. I'm always a little not-okay, Steph. That's the deal. But I'm okay." My brother, parsing the difference between okay and not-okay with the precision of a man whose life depends on knowing which one he is at any given moment.

I made doenjang jjigae three times this week. Three. James noticed. I am chasing something in this soup ╬ôçö the ratio of doenjang to gochujang, the depth of the anchovy broth, the way the tofu should be soft but not falling apart, the zucchini cut just thick enough to hold its shape. It's not right yet. Close ╬ôçö closer than last month ╬ôçö but not right. The doenjang I'm using is store-bought, and I think that's the problem, or part of it. Jisoo's doenjang jjigae, the one I tasted in my imagination before I ever tasted it in Busan, is made with homemade doenjang fermented for months. Mine is made with a plastic tub from H Mart. The distance between those two things is the distance between learning a cuisine and inheriting one. I'll close it. Not today. But I am three bowls closer than I was on Monday, and the kitchen smells like Korea, and the soup is getting better, and that is enough for a week in June when nothing else feels like enough.

The jjigae still isn’t right — I know that, I’m at peace with it, I’m working on it. But on the fourth day, when I needed something warm and savory that I wasn’t going to scrutinize, I made this instead: a simple chive mushroom soup that asks almost nothing of you and delivers that same deep, earthy umami I’ve been chasing in the doenjang. It won’t replace what I’m building toward, but it reminded me that soup doesn’t have to carry the weight of inheritance to be worth making — sometimes it just has to be good, and warm, and ready when you are.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 lb cremini or button mushrooms, sliced
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 cups vegetable or chicken broth
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/4 teaspoon dried)
Salt and black pepper to taste
1/4 cup fresh chives, thinly sliced, divided
1 teaspoon lemon juice

Instructions

Sauté aromatics. In a large pot or Dutch oven, melt butter with olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until softened and translucent, about 4–5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more, stirring frequently.
Cook the mushrooms. Add the sliced mushrooms in a single layer (work in batches if needed). Season with salt and pepper and cook without stirring for 3–4 minutes until they begin to brown. Stir and continue cooking another 4 minutes until the mushrooms have released their liquid and it has mostly evaporated.
Build the broth. Add the thyme, soy sauce, and broth. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 12–15 minutes to deepen the flavor.
Add cream and finish. Stir in the heavy cream and half the chives. Simmer on low for 3 minutes. Add the lemon juice and taste, adjusting salt and pepper as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with the remaining fresh chives. Serve with crusty bread or steamed rice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chive Mushroom Soup — The Soup I Made While Chasing a Different One