Cosy Soup Dinner Party

There’s nothing as cosy, nourishing or comforting as a bowl of vegetable soup.

The guests from my Autumn Harvest gathering decided it was their turn to host and invited us to dinner with the theme of Soup Weather.

It was an evening that nourished body and soul.

When you think about it, a soup dinner party is perfect for busy people who want to entertain friends without the food preparation taking all day. 

In less than half an hour you can have veggies chopped and simmering on the stove filling the house with welcoming scents that are both savoury and comforting; it beats the artificial room deodorisers hands down. It absolutely heralds “welcome.” 

Three soups simmered on the stove, each completely different from the next. There was a vibrant kale and spinach soup topped with a mint and parmesan crumble, a hearty chorizo and bean soup, and a silky pumpkin soup that Owen had made and brought with him. 

Naturally, in the spirit of fairness, and perhaps greediness, I sampled all three. They were served with a generous selection of breads, including Bruce’s homemade rolls, still warm from the oven and plenty of butter. It was the sort of meal that encourages everyone to help themselves, to go back for seconds and even possibly thirds. (No judgement here, they were all delicious). Bowls brimming with veggies are inherently good for you, so by going back for more servings, I felt that I was being incredibly healthy.

Bruce’s bread rolls, still warm from the oven; totally delicious and very moreish.

The evening was so relaxed due in part to the hosts’ unflappabale personalities, but also because the meal was able to be prepared in advance and left to its own devices until it was ready to be served. 

That gave all of us the chance to sit down and have a glass of something cold, a few nibbles, and time to chat.This was the hallmark of a good occasion; the hosts being present and able to enjoy the evening too. Something I am taking on board more and more.

As the winter evening grew darker outside, the candles flickered, conversation flowed effortlessly and laughter filled the room. Their four-year-old quietly played nearby, occasionally wandering into the conversation before disappearing back into his own little world. It was a tonic after a hectic working week. 

Portuguese custard tarts and coffee rounded off the evening, but by then the meal had become almost secondary. 

What I remember most is the feeling of being welcomed, well fed and reminded that hospitality has very little to do with complicated menus and everything to do with making people feel at home.

 It also made me realise that soup is one of the most generous meals you can serve. It can be made ahead, doesn't mind waiting if guests are late, and somehow encourages everyone to slow down. If you've been thinking about inviting friends over but feel intimidated, soup might just be the perfect place to begin.

 If all you have is a tin of tomato soup, serve it proudly. Add a swirl of cream, snip a few chives from the garden if you have them, (or the bunch bought from the supermarket) light a candle and invite your friends anyway. 

Lessons from my parent’s supper club

On the drive home from that convivial evening, I thought of my parents, and the supper club they belong to.

They have been members of their group for more years than I think they are prepared to admit to. Each month a couple hosts the others in their home; the guests bring a dish to share (either savoury or sweet depending on the roster), and the host provides the extras - nibbles and the like.

The members of the group have changed over the decades, but what hasn’t changed is the sense of community and fellowship that they enjoy. 

I don't think it's the individual meals they remember from these evenings. I think it's the rhythm of it all. Month after month, year after year, somebody opened their front door. That sort of consistency weaves friendships together in a way that occasional grand occasions never quite manage. 

This is something that I would love to create, and I feel that it is beginning to happen, and that pleases me enormously. 

When I started The Willows Journal, I hoped it might encourage a few people to invite friends around a little more often. Lately, though, I've realised that my hope runs deeper than that. I would love to create the sort of community that my parents have enjoyed for so many years; a circle of people who simply make time for one another.

As I look back over the past few months—with Soup Weather, pizza parties, birthday dinners and emails arriving from readers who have been inspired to host their own gatherings—I have the feeling that perhaps it is beginning to happen.

That thought pleases me more than I can say.

Speaking of readers, in my last post I mentioned the curry night that Anne hosted after reading The Willows Journal. I asked if she would share her evening with us, and I'm delighted that she said yes. You can read all about it here: Reader Stories: Anne’s table

Final thoughts…

If you've been waiting for the "right" time to invite people over, perhaps this is your gentle nudge.

It doesn't need to be a three-course meal, or matching crockery.  

It doesn't even need a reason apart from ‘let’s catch up.’