Chicken Soup for the Soul
Anya, Young Zionist Editor, celebrates the Jewish penicillin that cures everything from heartbreak to Freshers’ Flu.
Most would say that love heals all wounds; Jews know it’s really chicken soup. In every Jewish home, from flu season to a broken WiFi connection, a simmering pot on the stove seems to fix everything. But where does this tradition of the Jewish penicillin come from? Chicken soup isn’t just food; it’s a cultural, emotional, and even spiritual remedy.
Some families pass down heirlooms of silver and gold, but our families gift a recipe, a stockpot and a fundamental belief that a broth can heal anything. This assertion traces back to our ancestors; the Jewish penicillin, once a dish carried from the shtetls in Eastern Europe, is now elevated to a mythic status in households within every crevice of the diaspora.
“And when sniffles befell upon the nation, the mother did boil the bones and stir up the broth for forty minutes.”
Despite the made-up (totally real) scripture, it sounds believable, right? Not just because of the fancy jargon and (slightly) odd phrasing, but because chicken soup is a tradition so embedded in our culture that most of us aren’t even aware of its roots. Try and think back to the first time the rich and homely aroma filled your lungs… You probably can’t. Chicken soup isn’t something you just discover; it’s something that has always been there — in the air of your mundane afternoon. It fills the home the way sunlight fills a window: unmistakable, pronounced and golden.
But it’s not just a placebo or Jewish neuroticism; science actually contends that chicken soup heals the body and the soul. Rennard et al. discussed the potential medicinal qualities of chicken soup. It was found that “A mild anti-inflammatory effect could be one mechanism by which the soup could result in the mitigation of symptomatic upper respiratory tract infections.” In other words, chicken soup behaves the same way as your average Sainsbury’s-own Nurofen; it decreases flu symptoms by bringing down inflammation and acts as a painkiller (AND it’s tasty). They clarified the soup by removing the solid bits (vegetable chunks, farfalle, etc.). However, even after this, the inhibitory activity remained, suggesting that the active medicinal factor is likely soluble (not just in the carrot or onion). The proof is in the pudding — or in this case, the chicken soup. The magic meal helps with hydration, inflammation and congestion. Check if that’s on the back of the box of the paracetamol in your cupboard!
Emotional and cultural medicine — chicken soup isn’t simply a meal to satiate hunger, but it’s designed to be savoured and linger on your taste buds, enjoying every spoonful that enters your palate. If you look in my freezer at university, what you’ll see isn’t tuppawares of premade dinners but numerous tubs of homemade chicken soup because no matter how independent I claim to be, my mother refuses to let me face adult life without at least three litres of broth and I wouldn’t exchange it for anything. It’s an assurance of survival; between assignments, the inevitable Freshers' Flu (which takes you out regardless of which year of uni you’re in) and the British weather, I’m certain I’ll make it through the year. The modern-day care package.
Chicken soup is a pot of home — portable, frozen, but still alive with tradition — preserved in a plastic tub. And, of course, I always make sure there’s at least one tub in there just in case — for the inevitable sniffles, heartbreaks, or existential crises that no syllabus can predict. If I don’t have one, I get a little on edge, everything feels a little unstable, as if some cosmic imbalance is waiting to strike. Then the chicken soup is back in its rightful place, and order is restored.
Nothing says “I love you” like an edible hug — far more reliable than most healthcare systems. If someone said to me when I was really ill, “You have two options: One is to sit in Northwick Park Hospital for 12 hours, but at the end you’ll receive a pill that might mitigate your symptoms instantly. The other option is chicken soup.” Well… I’d be eating that soup quicker than you could say ‘sababa’. It might not be part of a festival we celebrate, but in my mind, I’m certain that chicken soup is a miracle.
In a religion that measures love in food servings and portions, we have chicken soup — because therapy takes too long to heat up.
