There is something so comforting about the opening of the autumn season. *Fómhar*, as it is in Irish, means Harvest. I think that's part of the comfort — that feeling of harvesting what we have sown. Now, it's not as literal as that these days for most of us, as we tend to source our food externally — supermarkets and restaurants. Yet the feeling of harvest remains. I see it in the changing temperature (thankfully!), in the slight shortening of the evenings, in the considerably more damp days, and in the garden. This year, I've slowed down enough to see it and feel it in real time. That feels like an achievement.
After a frenzied summer
After a frenzied summer, the change in weather feels like breath after being underwater. Every year is the same — I can't wait for the warmth and sunshine and bounty of summer. The visits, the travelling, the FUN. This year felt different. The heat, the drought — there was an undercurrent of fear that came along with it. Fear of lack. It can be easy to get swept along by that collective fear — crazy forest fires, flash floods, wars, global and local leaders losing the absolute run of themselves.
So when that happens — I slow right down.
If you feel out of sorts, on edge and anxious and you don't know why — ask yourself: are you getting swept along by the general fear? And then slow it right down.
Why soup (and why now)
The easiest, quickest and most reliable way to do that — *and* feel better in many different ways — is to nourish yourself and your loved ones. If we slow down enough to let ourselves feel it, the act of nourishing grounds us, connects us to our food, to ourselves and to those we love.
"It's just soup," I hear you say! Yes. And no. Nourishing ourselves and connecting with our food is as fundamental as it gets. We have lost that connection — and with it we have lost a crucial tool that helps us feel grounded, anchored and whole.
I know you want a rigid recipe — but I want *you* to get more connected with your food and more intuitive about what you need. I also don't know what you have in your fridge and pantry. You do. So consider this recipe a guideline for you to play with.
What you'll need — the USE-WHAT-YOU-HAVE framework
The Base
Use all or some, depending on what you have — this is what forms the solid foundation of deliciousness. Get this right and you can't go wrong.
- 1 onion, chopped
- 2–4 stalks celery, chopped
- 1–2 carrots, chopped or grated
- Leek, chopped
- Garlic (1 clove will do), minced or chopped
Additional Veg (optional)
Soup is a great way to use up odds and ends — the half pepper, quarter courgette, broccoli stalk, lonesome spud, whatever. Chop up whatever you want to use up.
Nourishing Ninjas
These are the ninjas — you don't really notice they're there, but they're so important for your health, providing fibre and other goodness. We do not eat enough beans and legumes in Ireland, so this is an easy habit to get into when making every soup.
- A couple of handfuls of red lentils (rinsed well)
- A small handful of pearl barley
- Any other beans or lentils you have that are already cooked (½ tin – 1 tin)
Meat (optional)
If you have something cooked — a chicken drumstick, thigh or fillet or any other cooked meat leftover in the fridge — shred it and use that. If you have an uncooked drumstick or thigh, that can also add a huge amount of flavour. Thigh, drumstick or wings work better than fillet here.
Flavour Fun
- Herbs: fresh (small bunch, chopped) or dried (½ tsp or so) — rosemary, thyme, parsley, basil (good with tomato-based soup), coriander (good with Asian flavours like ginger and carrot), mint (good with a mainly pea-based soup)
- Spices: generally I use herbs, but here are some combos to try — lentil-based soup with cumin, coriander and turmeric (try ½ tsp each to start and see what you like) for a curry flavour. Fenugreek seeds (½ tsp) are great with rosemary and/or thyme in a veg soup to add depth.
Liquid
You can just use water if that's all you have — just season well and give the soup time to develop flavour. I like to use half stock, half water. Homemade stock is best (we'll get you to that stage, I promise!). Next option is shop-bought liquid stock — be picky and check the label to make sure it's just stock and not a load of sugar or additives. Next option is stock cubes or bouillon — again, be picky!
- Homemade chicken or veg stock — 1–1.5 litres, or half stock half water
- Carton of shop-bought liquid stock
- Good quality stock cube or bouillon in hot water — 1–1.5 litres
- For a tomato-based soup — use a tin of tomatoes plus water
- For an Asian-flavoured soup — use a tin of coconut milk plus stock and/or water
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How to make it
Cook your base in some coconut oil, ghee (clarified butter) or a good quality oil of your choosing for about 3–10 minutes on medium heat, depending on how much time you have. Season with some salt. Add any other veg and your nourishing ninjas and cook for a few minutes. Add your herbs and/or spices (leave fresh herbs like parsley or mint until near the end of cooking) and cook for a minute. If using a raw chicken piece, add it now. Add in your stock, stir, and bring to a near boil — then turn down the heat, add a lid, and leave to simmer for at least 20–30 minutes. Do not let it boil. Add fresh herbs if using, taste for seasoning, and add a little more salt, pepper or spices if you'd like. Leave chunky or blend with a stick blender or jug blender.
Sin é!
Always have onions, lentils, and dried herbs/spices in your pantry — and you will always have the makings of a soup. You can mix and match, change it up, ensure you never waste any bits of veg or meat.
Don't worry about getting it "wrong." Cooking like this requires trial and error — so get trialling!
Use it up over a couple of days or freeze any leftovers to have it another time.
"We have lost that connection — and with it we have lost a crucial tool that helps us feel grounded, anchored and whole."
When the world feels like a frenzy — and it will, again and again — you can always choose to slow down. To anchor yourself right here, in this moment. Making this soup is just one way to do that. A small, deliberate act that asks you to be present, to use what you have, to nourish yourself and the people you love. With that anchoring comes a quieter kind of clarity — a feeling of being more like yourself, more intentional in how you move through your days.
Fómhar reminds us that harvest isn’t just something that happens in fields. It happens in moments. Just as autumn asks us to gather in what has been growing all along, you can choose — at any moment, in any season — to slow down and appreciate exactly where you are. This helps you see better where you want to go.
That’s enough. That’s everything, actually.
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