Creamy Mushroom Wild Rice Soup — The Answer When the World Doesn’t Make Sense Yet

The election was Tuesday. I'm not going to write about politics — I'm a Scandinavian woman from Minnesota and we keep our political opinions between ourselves, God, and the voting booth — but I'll say this: the country feels different this week. The break room at St. Mary's was quieter than usual. The patients watched the news with expressions I've seen before, on different faces, for different reasons — the expression of people trying to understand something that doesn't make sense yet. Paul came home Tuesday night and sat at the kitchen table and said, "Well." That was it. "Well." We ate dinner. We watched the results. We went to bed. The lake was still there in the morning. That helped. I called Mamma. She said, "I've lived through Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, Bush, and Obama. I'll live through this." She is eighty-five years old and she has the perspective of a woman who has outlived most of the things that were supposed to be catastrophes. I found this comforting. I called Peter. He didn't answer. I called Anna. She was upset in the articulate, passionate way that Anna gets upset about things — she talked for twenty minutes and I listened and said "mm-hmm" and "I understand" and "yes" because sometimes mothering is just the act of receiving. Elsa texted from Ely: "The wolves don't care about the election. I'm taking their approach." Elsa's philosophy in one sentence. I cooked. Cooking is what I do when the world doesn't make sense. I made split pea soup — thick, green, with ham and carrots and the particular denseness that makes it less a soup and more a philosophy of soup. You eat it with rye bread and butter and it grounds you. It says: the world is complicated but dinner is simple. Start here. I also baked bread — not limpa, just a simple white bread, the kind that requires kneading for ten minutes, and the kneading is the point. You push the dough and fold it and push it again and the physical work moves something through your body — anxiety, grief, confusion, whatever you're carrying — and by the time the dough is smooth and elastic, you're calmer. Bread is therapy you can eat. The Damiano Center on Thursday was busy. More people than usual. I don't know if that's related to anything or just the cold. I made extra soup. Gerald was there, at his table, and he looked at me and said, "How are you, Linda?" and I said, "I'm making soup, Gerald," and he said, "That's a good answer." It is. It's the only answer I have. When in doubt, make soup. When in crisis, make soup. When the world shifts under your feet and you don't know where to stand, stand in the kitchen and make soup and feed whoever comes through the door. It's not a solution. But it's a start.

The soup I made for Gerald and everyone else at the Damiano Center that Thursday was this one — a creamy mushroom wild rice that I’ve made so many times it’s practically muscle memory, which is exactly what I needed. When you’re standing in the kitchen because it’s the only answer you have, you want a recipe that doesn’t ask too much of you, just steady work: dice the onion, slice the celery, stir the pot. Here’s how I made it.

Creamy Mushroom Wild Rice Soup

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 cup uncooked wild rice, rinsed
• 3 cups water (for cooking rice)
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 large yellow onion, diced
• 3 stalks celery, sliced
• 3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into coins
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 pound cremini mushrooms, sliced
• 4 ounces shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, sliced
• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 6 cups low-sodium chicken broth (or vegetable broth)
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving

Instructions

1. Cook the wild rice. Combine the wild rice and 3 cups of water in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 40–45 minutes until the rice is tender and the grains have begun to split open. Drain any excess water and set aside.
2. Saute the vegetables. While the rice cooks, melt the butter in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion, celery, and carrots. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until softened and the onion is translucent.
3. Add garlic and mushrooms. Stir in the garlic and cook for 1 minute until fragrant. Add all of the mushrooms and increase heat to medium-high. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 8–10 minutes until the mushrooms have released their liquid and begun to brown. Do not rush this step—the browning is where the flavor lives.
4. Make the roux. Reduce heat to medium. Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables and stir well to coat everything evenly. Cook for 2 minutes, stirring constantly, to eliminate the raw flour taste.
5. Add broth and seasonings. Gradually pour in the chicken broth, stirring constantly to prevent lumps. Add the thyme, bay leaves, and Worcestershire sauce. Bring the soup to a gentle boil, then reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened.
6. Finish the soup. Remove and discard the bay leaves. Stir in the cooked wild rice and the heavy cream. Simmer on low for 5 minutes until heated through. Taste and season generously with salt and black pepper.
7. Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley. Serve with rye bread and cold butter. This soup thickens considerably as it sits—thin with a splash of broth when reheating leftovers.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 295 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg