The Lesson of Soup

There was a pot on the stove.  In the pot was sliced beef and pork soaking in some kind of broth.  It smelled awful.  "You should try it." T told me.  I was not so sure.


There were some vegetables.  Some green and leafy.  Some stringy.  Some cut up.  I did not recognize them.  They smelled funny too.  I tasted one.  The flavor was strong and pungent.  It was not completely unpleasant, but I would not want a salad of this stuff.


There were some noodles.  By themselves, mostly tasteless.  They will take on the flavors of the rest of the dish, but so far that was not very encouraging.


Maybe I was not that hungry after all.  Next thing I knew there was a bowl of all these things I was not sure about in front of me.  One thing my  father always taught me was to eat the food I am given.  It's the polite thing to do, and it's not poison.  Even if I don't really like it, I should eat it and be thankful.


I watched T and his sisters.  They mixed up all the ingredients in the bowl.


I did that.


I used the chopsticks to pull out some noodle and I ate that.  Then a piece of beef.  Then a piece of pork and a leaf of something together.  Using the spoon, some broth.


To my surprise, my polite tasting, turned into real enjoyment.  It turns out that even though the individual ingredients did not seem appetizing, when mixed together in the right way, they make something truly delicious. 


Another life lesson learned.