Wild Rice and Mushroom Soup

Second date. James made kimchi jjigae at his apartment — a Taiwanese man making Korean food for a Korean woman. His version was not as good as mine (the kimchi was store-bought, the broth thin), but the effort was extraordinary. He shopped at H Mart for the first time. He followed a recipe from a Korean cooking blog. Three hours of preparation for one dish. The effort was the most attractive thing I have witnessed in recent memory.

Over dinner he told me about his family food traditions: his mother's beef noodle soup, his father's scallion pancakes, his aunt in Taipei who sends tea and dried mushrooms. Each dish was a person. Each recipe was a relationship. The kitchen as the space where families express what words cannot. I know this space. I live in this space.

I told him more about the adoption. The full version. The anger, the gratitude, the therapy, Dr. Yoon, the cooking as identity work, the Korea trip, the crying over bindaetteok, the birth mother search. He said, "I do not fully understand the adoption thing. But I understand the between. I have lived between Taiwanese and American my whole life, and the between is lonely until you find someone else who lives there."

The between is lonely until you find someone else who lives there. James Chen, maker of soup, speaker of the language of between. I found him. Or he found me. Or we found each other on opposite sides of the same bridge.

Dr. Yoon asked about James. I told her. She said, "You are letting him see you." I said, "He already sees me. He saw me at the meetup before I said anything."

James made kimchi jjigae to show me he was paying attention, and it worked — not because the broth was perfect, but because he understood that soup is how some of us say the things we cannot say out loud. When I got home that night I thought about his aunt in Taipei sending dried mushrooms across an ocean, and I made this wild rice and mushroom soup almost without deciding to, the way you reach for something that already knows your hands. It is earthy and slow and patient, and it tastes like the between — the warm, quiet place between two worlds where you can finally stop explaining yourself.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 cup wild rice, uncooked and rinsed
8 oz cremini mushrooms, sliced
4 oz shiitake mushrooms, stems removed and sliced
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 stalks celery, chopped
2 medium carrots, chopped
4 cups low-sodium vegetable or chicken broth
2 cups water
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1 teaspoon dried)
1 bay leaf
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
1 tablespoon soy sauce

Instructions

Build the base. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion, celery, and carrots. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and the onion is translucent, about 6–8 minutes.
Bloom the aromatics. Add garlic, thyme, and smoked paprika. Stir and cook for 1 minute until fragrant.
Brown the mushrooms. Add all sliced mushrooms to the pot. Cook undisturbed for 3 minutes, then stir and continue cooking until the mushrooms have released their moisture and begun to brown at the edges, about 5–6 more minutes.
Add rice and liquid. Stir in the rinsed wild rice, broth, water, soy sauce, and bay leaf. Increase heat and bring to a rolling boil.
Simmer low and slow. Reduce heat to low, cover with the lid slightly ajar, and simmer for 50–60 minutes, or until the wild rice is tender and some grains have burst open. Stir occasionally and add a splash of water if the soup thickens too much.
Finish and season. Remove the bay leaf. Taste and season generously with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Stir in the chopped parsley just before serving.
Serve. Ladle into deep bowls. The soup thickens as it sits — thin with a little warm broth or water when reheating leftovers.

Nutrition (per serving)

Wild Rice and Mushroom Soup — A Bowl for the Space Between