The first full week without Paul. The first full week of lockdown. The two losses stacked on top of each other like stones on a cairn.
I woke every morning at 5:30, as I always have. I made coffee, as I always have. I sat at the kitchen table with Sven, as I always have. But the table had two places set and one of them was empty and the coffee was only one cup and the morning was the same and entirely different.
I couldn't have visitors. The lockdown. No Anna, no Peter (he flew back to Chicago before the borders of normalcy closed), no Erik, no Mamma. Elsa could come — she lives alone, and we agreed to be each other's bubble — but the first three days she didn't come because she was grieving in her apartment, alone, the way Johanssons grieve: privately, silently, in the space where nobody can see.
She came on Thursday. She brought groceries. She sat at the kitchen table and we drank coffee and we didn't talk about Paul. We talked about the lockdown, the virus, the strangeness of a world that had closed itself like a fist. We talked about everything except the man who wasn't at the table.
Then Elsa said, "Mom, you need to cook." I said, "I'm not hungry." She said, "I know. Cook anyway."
Cook anyway. The three words that saved me.
I stood up. I went to the counter. I made soup. Wild rice soup. My recipe. The recipe that has been the answer to every question this kitchen has ever asked. I made it for one person, because the other person — the person who drank it from a cup I held, the person whose eyes closed when the taste arrived — wasn't there.
I made it and I ate it. At the table. With Sven at my feet. In the seat that's always been mine. With Paul's place set across from me, empty, unserved, present.
The soup was good. The soup is always good. The soup held.
Elsa had a bowl. She said, "This is the soup." I said, "It's always the soup." She said, "I know."
The cooking started again. Not because I was hungry. Not because anyone needed me to cook. Because the cooking is who I am and without the cooking I'm just a woman in a quiet house with a dog and a grief that's bigger than the house.
Cook anyway. The instruction. The lifeline.
I baked bread on Saturday. Limpa. The promise. The promise I made to Paul — every week. He's gone. I bake it anyway. The smell filled the house and there was no one to smell it except me and Sven and the ghost of every meal I've ever made in this kitchen.
The smell held. The bread held. The soup held.
I hold.
This is the soup I made that Thursday — or close enough to it that it doesn’t matter. Priscilla’s Vegetable Chowder has been in my kitchen for thirty years, and it never demands anything of you except that you stand at the stove and stir. When Elsa’s three words finally moved my feet, this is where they carried me: to the pot, to the broth, to the smell that slowly filled the house and made it feel, for a few minutes, like a home again. I made enough for two bowls. There were two of us at the table, even if one of the chairs was empty.
Priscilla’s Vegetable Chowder
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 3 stalks celery, sliced
- 3 medium carrots, peeled and diced
- 3 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cubed (about 3 cups)
- 2 cups frozen or fresh corn kernels
- 4 cups vegetable broth
- 1 cup half-and-half or heavy cream
- 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
- Fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for serving
Instructions
- Soften the aromatics. Melt butter in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Do not rush this step — the sweetness it builds is the base of everything.
- Add the root vegetables. Stir in the carrots and potatoes and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, letting them pick up a little color from the butter.
- Build the base. Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables and stir well to coat evenly. Cook for 1 minute to remove the raw flour taste. Gradually pour in the vegetable broth, a cup at a time, stirring constantly to prevent lumps from forming.
- Simmer until tender. Raise the heat to bring the chowder to a gentle boil, then reduce to medium-low. Cover and simmer for 18 to 20 minutes, until the potatoes are completely tender when pierced with a fork.
- Add the corn and cream. Stir in the corn kernels and half-and-half. Simmer uncovered for 5 minutes more, until the corn is heated through and the broth has thickened slightly.
- Season and finish. Stir in the salt, pepper, thyme, and smoked paprika. Taste and adjust seasoning. Ladle into bowls and finish with a scatter of fresh parsley.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 275 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 610mg
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 210 of Linda’s 30-year story
· Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.