The Origins of Pink Soup

A Childhood Favorite Reimagined

This weekend autumn stopped by for a visit here in central PA. She didn’t stay for long, only swooped in long enough for us to slip our chilled arms into sweaters during our morning walks and open up our windows before bed. But she left no doubt in our minds that she’s coming back soon for a longer stay, and I like the sound of that. Her visit got me thinking of those cozy dishes that accompany that season with her shortening days and crisp-cool breezes and neighborhood lawns coated in a burnt orange sea of fallen leaves.

One chilled weather favorite of mine first entered my world in a red and white can with a gold seal in the center of its label. You know the one I’m talking about.

Throughout the last half of the 20^th century, this delicacy perched in the cabinets of nearly every home in the nation, waiting for its lid to be popped open, its gelatinous gift poured into a pot atop the stove, the contents stirred together with a can of water (or milk for a more luxurious result) then warmed to just below boiling, before being presented in a flowered Corelle Bowl with a few crackers tucked in beside it.

Ah, yes, tomato soup.

For even for the likes of my eight-year-old self who turned up my nose at the sight of an actual tomato on my dinner plate, I adored Campbell’s tomato soup. It was synonymous with rainy autumn afternoons cozied in the warmth of home, forgoing bike-riding with my neighborhood friends in exchange for the toys I found hidden and forgotten at the back of my closet. I’d create a world around those new found treasures, flopped down on my belly for hours in front of a Fisher Price school house, playing the beloved school teacher to a classroom of plastic children. The only thing that could tear my imagination away from the delight before me was the distant sound of my mom’s voice calling me to the kitchen for lunch.

Spurred to the table by my rumbling belly, there I’d one of my favorite dishes: a steaming bowl of tomato soup—sweet, silky, and scalding hot with a small stack of saltines perched beside it. I’d take one cracker at a time, dip it into the luscious lava, hold it there till it nearly dissolved, and then slip the salty-sweet morsel between my lips. To my novice palate, it was a meal fit for the Divine.

When I grew up and had children of my own, I passed my love for canned tomato soup onto them. They affectionately renamed it “Pink Soup,” and the moniker stuck. At least once a week Pink Soup made its way onto our family’s menu board. But as I started to pay more attention to what I was actually feeding myself and my family, the ingredient list on the side of the label left me disenchanted. No, it wasn’t horrible, but could it be improved? I wanted to come up with a substitute that incorporated my commitment to healthier, more nutrient dense meals, but I knew it was a Herculean task; my family would sniff out an imposter like a bloodhound. How could I make a convincing alternative?

The answer? Trial and error, my friends, trial and error. This soup has gone through many iterations that garnered jeers and untouched bowls before I finally landed on a recipe that earned my children’s love. But the hard work was worth it. The result is a gorgeously silky, delicately sweet soup that conjures up all those wonderful memories of autumn leaves and rainy days and the joys rediscovered in the back of a closet. And I hope it works its same magic on you. Enjoy!

Autumn-Is-Coming Pink Soup

Ingredients:

1 medium onion, chopped

1 garlic clove, minced

2 1/4 c. vegetable broth, divided

1/2 c. raw cashews, soaked in water for 2 hours (see Note below)

2 tsp. sugar

1, 28oz. can diced tomatoes

1 tsp. salt.

(Note: If you are using a heavy duty blender, then there is no need to presoak your cashews.)

Instructions:

In a small fry pan, heat a 1/4 c. of vegetable broth. I’m not a huge fan of using a lot of oil in my cooking because I just don’t love the heavy flavor of it. But if you like to saute with oil, feel free to use a couple of tablespoons of olive oil here instead. Once you have the pan warmed to a medium heat, add the onions. Go ahead and cook these for a good 5-8 minutes, until they start to get a nice golden brown. Add the garlic and cook for another minute until its all wonderfully softened and fragrant.

Scrape these goodies into a blender. To it add your remaining ingredients. If you are using a high-powered blender (like a Vitamix, for whom a have a deep and lasting love), go ahead and switch it on, ease it up to top speed, and let it roar for about 5 minutes. At the end of all that raucous noise, your soup will be warmed and ready to serve. Bon Appetit!

If, however, you do not have a hefty blender to do your heavy lifting, no fear. You can put it in a traditional blender, blitz it for a minute or so till its nice and smooth, and then pour it into a pot to warm it through. And you’re done. Sit the family down, break out some delectable crusty bread (or stay tuned for our family’s favorite alternative to the traditional grilled cheese), ladle up your soup, and lunch is served. Enjoy!

Serves 4.