At a business dinner in Mexico, late 1970s, the meal started with a hearty bowl of chicken soup. I grew up on it, sometimes with homemade egg noodles or matzo balls or kreplach, and find chicken soup to be universally liked and satisfying. You can get a bowl with the whole trifecta at The 3 G’s in Delray Beach, Florida.
Anyway, at my business dinner, I slurped up the bits of chicken in the broth, and something tasted funny. I suspected that the bowl had not been completely rinsed since its last wash because it tasted soapy. As a guest, I didn’t say anything and waited for the waiter to remove the bowl. Much later on, I learned that the soapy flavor was cilantro.
The last time I had tasted soap was when I was five years old and my mother literally washed my mouth out with a bar of Ivory for saying a dirty word. Since the bowl of Mexican chicken soup incident, cilantro is popping up everywhere — in guacamole, curries and salads, becoming something of a celebrated taste. I was and still am, one of the 15 percent or thereabouts of the population having trouble enjoying the taste of cilantro. Scientists say its related to our olfactory system. Cilantro and soap share similar receptors and some of us have a genetic predisposition that warns us to stay away.
I am pretty open to new tastes, In the 1960s, I got on the quiche and fondue bandwagon; in the 1980s I ate sushi, sushi, sushi, blackened everything, but couldn’t appreciate sun dried tomatoes. Sometime in 1992, salsa outsold ketchup in the United States, and I knew my world had changed. I put pesto on top of pastas and into soups, then came smoothies and avocado toast (no cilantro please) into my life.
Everyone eats and some of us are pickier than others. Some have allergies or special dietary needs and will have to forego some foods. Some of us are lucky enough to have people that enjoy cooking for us. Food, literally and figuratively shapes us, connects us and delivers great conversation starters. It began with small migrations of people that moved from place to place looking for better lives. Now the world has become one big table. Let’s eat and let’s talk.
To get the conversation going, here are two Chicken Soup recipes (cilantro optional) from my daughter Julia Turshen —one slow recipe that is an homage to my sister and her Aunt Renee from Julia’s first book Small Victories and her magical quick soup technique from her newest book What Goes With What, both reprinted in Hudson Valley magazine.
