Cabbage Egg Drop Soup

October. The month that holds the anniversary of Darla, and now, I can feel it, the month that may hold something else, something I cannot name yet but that sits in my chest like a weight that is getting heavier each week. Larry is on the road. He is always on the road. He is sixty-five years old and he is still on the road because the road is the only place Larry knows how to be, and taking him off the road would be like pulling a fish from water and asking it to breathe.

I have been calling him every day. Morning and evening. The calls are short. Where are you. What are you hauling. Did you eat. The important question. Did you eat. He says yes. I believe him some days and not others. The yes is sometimes a lie and sometimes the truth and sometimes the space between, which is the space Larry has always occupied: the space between fine and not fine, the space where Novak men live, where they pretend, where they keep going.

I made beef barley soup this week, a double batch, one for us and one for Larry. I drove to his apartment Thursday and found him home, which surprised me because he was supposed to be in Kansas. He said the load got cancelled. He looked smaller in his own kitchen than he did at my table, and the smallness broke something in me that I kept together by sheer force. I heated the soup. I put a bowl in front of him. He ate it, all of it, and asked for bread, and I had bread, because I always have bread, and he ate the bread with the soup and he said this is good, Brenda. I said I know. He said you always know. I said I learned from Gayle. He said you learned from me too. I said yes. I learned from you too, Dad. The word Dad was hard to say. Not because it is unfamiliar. Because it is too familiar, and the familiarity is a tenderness that I cannot afford right now, because tenderness will break me, and I need to not break.

The beef barley was for my dad, made with intention and driven by that quiet desperation to do something when there’s nothing you can do. But later that week, when I was back in my own kitchen and the weight was still sitting in my chest, I wanted something simpler — something fast and honest and warm that didn’t ask anything of me. This cabbage egg drop soup is that kind of recipe. It’s humble in the way that real comfort is humble, and it comes together in under thirty minutes, which is exactly the kind of mercy I needed.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
3 cups green cabbage, thinly sliced
1 medium carrot, peeled and julienned or thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated (or 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger)
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon white pepper
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 green onions, thinly sliced
Salt to taste

Instructions

Build the broth. Pour the chicken broth into a medium saucepan and bring to a gentle boil over medium-high heat. Stir in the garlic, ginger, soy sauce, and white pepper.
Add the vegetables. Add the sliced cabbage and carrot to the simmering broth. Reduce heat to medium and cook for 8–10 minutes, until the cabbage is tender but still has a little body.
Drop the eggs. Reduce heat so the soup is just barely simmering. Using a fork or chopstick, stir the soup slowly in one direction to create a gentle current. Pour the beaten eggs in a thin, steady stream into the moving broth, stirring gently as you pour. The eggs will cook into soft, silky ribbons almost immediately.
Finish and season. Remove from heat. Drizzle in the sesame oil and taste for salt. Adjust seasoning as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with sliced green onions. Serve immediately with crusty bread or a simple side of steamed rice if you like.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cabbage Egg Drop Soup — The Bowl I Brought When Words Weren’t Enough