White Soup for the Soul in Torment

I first made this soup when my sister fell dramatically ill on our way home from London one autumn.

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Photo: seyed mostafa zamani

I stayed by her side night and day. We thought that she had suffered so much that summer – heartbreak, shame, deceit, public embarrassment – that she had no other choice but to lay down forever. Luckily, the following days were full of care, reconnecting, and redemption. We are closer now than ever before – both in spirit and in the neighbourhood! You see, during that time of fever and delirium, I stayed by her side night and day, deepening our sisterly bond. The man who so caddishly led her to unladylike behaviour came to visit to explain my sister’s behaviour. She had not been acting so inappropriately – he did love her, once, and had indeed asked her to do many things that led her to believe an engagement was forthcoming. (A lock of hair, if you can believe it!)

After we had finally received a rational explanation for her sensible behaviour that summer, our dearest friend – an older, respectable gentlemen with a gorgeous estate and a respected military title – travelled to fetch our mother. We thought the end was near for our dear loved one, which possibly led to his confession of admiration and love.

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Lo and behold, her illness had brought us together, forged deeper bonds, and resolved lingering misunderstandings between those who were once friends. I asked the cook to prepare the following recipe for my sister. I won’t credit the soup for the changed temperament of my sister, but from that day forth, she resolved to be a much calmer, civil woman in society, with her family at the centre of her life. My husband and I now live on the estate of my sister and her husband, much to the delight of all parties involved.