An Exaltation of Soups (13 page)

“E
VER
T
HUS AND
A
S
Y
OU
W
ERE
”

In this classic Hungarian folktale, a poor but clever soldier, discharged from the army, seeks his fortune from his commander-inchief, the King. The King, as kings are wont to do, gives him an impossible task: “You can be my coachman,” he says, “if you hitch up my horses, drive them to the Royal forest, fill their cart with timber, and drive back by sundown.” It turns out, of course, that the horses are old, skinny, and at death’s door. Even so, that soldier gives it his best shot. Just at the point of failure, he does a favor for a poor old man in the forest—and is repaid a thousand times over when the old man gives him two magic commands to use. “Just say, ‘Ever thus’ to someone,” the old man says, “and he or she will do what you want at lightning speed and without stopping. Then, just say, ‘As you were,’ and that poor soul will finally be able to stop.” The soldier puts these commands to good purpose, and not just to get those horses back to the King to secure the coachman job. No, he almost immediately sets his sights on the youngest daughter of the King, a beautiful princess if there ever was one. Alas, she is to be married the next day.

Disconsolate, he wanders through the dazzling halls of the castle until he comes to the banquet room. There are the Princess and her bridegroom eating
tyúkhúsleves
—chicken soup with snail pasta. He sneaks up behind them and whispers, “Ever thus!” Instantly they begin eating at top speed, bowl after bowl, growing so fat they can hardly sit in their chairs. The Queen looks over and says, “Mercy, aren’t you ashamed of yourselves, you pigs?” and she just keeps on and on talking about how much they are eating. So the soldier leans over in mid-sentence and says, “Ever thus!” Oh my, now the Queen can’t
stop
talking and her voice gets louder and louder and louder until the King finally comes over to shut her up … but suddenly he hiccups, maybe from the flagon of
tokaj
wine he’s just drunk. “Ever thus!” whispers the soldier—and now the King can’t
stop
hiccuping. The place is in an uproar, with people running about, plates and dishes crashing and smashing, the King hiccuping, the Queen gabbling, the bridegroom and the adorable Princess shoveling in the
tyúkhúsleves
as fast as they can—what a mess!

“Help!—hic’—soldier! Help us—
hic!”
the King cries. “Help—hic!—and I’ll give you—
hic!—
half my kingdom!”

“It’s not your kingdom I want,” says the soldier, “it’s your daughter.”

“Princess
—hic
!—what do you say?”

“Oh yes,” she wails, “if only I could stop eating.” As the soldier and the King shake hands to seal the deal, the soldier says, “As you were!” Ahhh, the hiccups stop. “As you were!” to the Queen. Ahh, the words die on her lips. “As you were!” to the Princess and the hapless bridegroom. That bridegroom slinks away, leaving a trail of chicken soup behind him.

The Princess and the soldier are married before you could say, “Good King Mattias.” “Oh,” says she, “I liked you the minute I clapped eyes on you.”

“Are you happy?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says sweetly.

“Ever thus!” says the soldier. And since he hasn’t yet said, “As you were!” to her, it’s a fact that they lived happily ever after.

D
ANTE
W
OOS
H
IS
B
EATRICE

Within my Lady’s eyes abideth Love,
Hence where she looks all things must needs grow kind,
And when she passeth all men glance behind,
And those she greeteth such fond raptures prove
That from each downcast face the colour fades
And every fault repentance doth inspire:
Before her flee presumptuousness and ire;
Help me to do her honour, gentle maids!
The heart which heareth her when she doth speak Becometh, through her virtue, pure and meek,
Hence praise to who beholds her first is due;
The vision of her softly smiling face
In neither speech nor memory hath place,
It is a miracle so sweet and new.

—D
ANTE
A
LIGHIERI
,
fourteenth-century Italian poet

F
OR THE MEATBALLS

½ pound ground veal

½ pound ground sirloin beef

1 egg, slightly beaten

½ cup fresh bread crumbs

¼ cup minced fresh parsley

½ cup finely grated Romano cheese

pinch of nutmeg

Salt and pepper to taste

F
OR THE SOUP

8 cups (2 quarts) chicken Stock

2 cups washed and torn escarole, in little pieces

¼ cup freshly grated Romano cheese, or more to serve

I
TALIAN
W
EDDING
S
OUP AT THE
U.S. M
ASTERS

Not just for newlyweds! Bernhard Langer, a German golf pro, ordered this soup in 1993, his prerogative as reigning U.S. Masters champion, to be served at the traditional Champion’s Dinner at the Augusta National Golf Club on the eve of the tournament. This menu-selecting tradition was begun in 1952 by Ben Hogan.

C
INNAMON
D
ROPS AT AN
E
LOPEMENT

And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,
In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender’d,
While he from forth the closet brought a heap
Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon …

—J
OHN
K
EATS
,
nineteenth-century English poet, from his Italianate “The Eve of Saint Agnes,” in which Porphyro stages an exotic vision in fair Madeline’s bedroom in hopes of eloping with her

3 egg yolks

¼ cup dry Marsala wine

1½ cups heated chicken stock, without a scrap of fat in it pinch of cinnamon

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

¼ teaspoon sugar mixed with a pinch of nutmeg, for garnish