MLS Chaos Theory Mulligatawny Soup
A recipe for watching Major League Soccer's playoffs, and all of the the insanity contained therein.
I’ve been getting into soup lately.
Not that I’m not a soup fan, in general. Tis the season, and all that, and what with the chill of the impending winter coupled with the cold, hard, existential isolation we’ve all been having to deal with this year, soup is a great dish to make. It nearly always yields leftovers, unless you’re the psychopath who figured out how to make one single bowl of soup. It leaves you with a warmth that spreads through your limbs that’s nearly impossible to replicate. And, frequently, it’s a relatively simple thing to make, throwing water and broth and/or cream into a pot and then chopping up some vegetables or meats to throw in there with it. Soup: it’s imprecise in its way, a plethora of ingredients thrown in haphazardly, impossible to present in a fashion that a cooking show might deem “appealing,” to the point where the Campbell’s commercials of my parents’ childhood put marbles in their soup to make it look like there were more visible solids. And yet, all of that internal chaos yields a delicious bounty.
I’ve been thinking a lot about chaos. Not in a very philosophical way. I’ve been thinking about chaos because of the constant “Root for Chaos” chant we get on MLS Twitter during single-elimination playoffs, and because of the playoff games we have subsequently gotten, and because I was asked to speak about chaos on The Filibuster yesterday, an appointment which I agreed to and then promptly missed (sorry guys). I was thinking about it not because I think I have any fresh, new ideas on the meaning of chaos. I was mostly trying to come up with a meme that riffs on the Game of Thrones “chaos is a ladder” bit, and I thought to myself “chaos as a food would be funny, what food would chaos be?” And then I landed upon soup. For soup, as we all already know, is the greatest embodiment of chaos theory this side of the Garbage Plate (which is a Western New York delicacy that I will not subject you to unless you ask me nicely).
In a nutshell, the grand idea behind chaos is that there is some sort of pattern, order, some final goal that all chaos pushes towards, despite the nature of chaos being that, most of the time, shit just happens. At least, that’s my very rudimentary understanding of it. Think of it in terms of the MLS playoffs: referees dole out red cards seemingly at random, penalties abound, just about no game goes according to script except… Nashville SC? But at the end of it, everything still forms a neat line. The bracket dwindles and continues to point towards MLS Cup, like magnetic North. That’s what single-elimination playoffs feel like. And that’s what Mulligatawny soup feels like, too.
I had Mulligatawny for the first time a month or two ago. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s originally a South Indian-inspired cuisine that was subsequently bastardized and changed by the British for a couple centuries until we have what we have today, which is a base of curry-powder-flavored soup filled with a ton of other stuff that makes close to no sense whatsoever. Authentic, it is not. Delicious, on the other hand…
The first thing you’ll need is some good, old-fashioned chicken stock. The base of many a soup, comfortable and reliable, like Dax McCarty and Anibal Godoy anchoring your midfield, allowing Randall Leal to get forward and do his thing. You’ll also need some flour and curry powder, which isn’t necessarily the first thing that you’re probably throwing into soup if you’re a Westerner like me, but is vital nonetheless. Think of it playing a Kevin Molino role in your soup. Vital, with the ability to pop up in places when you don’t expect him to be there. And, despite the myriad chances anyone will have to assail such ingredients in your soup, you will still prevail. Seriously, what the hell, Colorado.
Next, you’ll be going back into familiar soup territory with some carrots, celery, and onion. Utterly reliable soup ingredients. You can almost always count on them, just like you can almost always count on the Timbers to give up a goal or five in the last fifteen minutes of a match. You even have to chop all those ingredients! Chop them! Get it? You chop celery kind of like you chop wood? Because the Timb- you get it. I know you get it.
Then, things get a little… stranger. You’re going to throw some rice in there. I can only think of one other soup off the top of my head that regularly incorporates rice, but trust me, the rice is clutch. Like Wondo. It’s not the star of the show, sure, because the chicken is still to come here, as ever-present and consistent as Tim Melia going full-Terminator in a penalty shootout, but the rice is should not be overlooked. At its best, Mulligatawny is almost more of a stew or a goulash than a soup, really, and the rice plays a massive role in that, soaking up the liquid around it for you to then bite into, the flavor exploding. Like a Gusher, the most chaotic of childhood sweets.
And now, I’m going to say something that’s going to upset some people. And before I even mention it, I would just like to say: I know. I know this sounds very much like a white-person ingredient that does not belong anywhere near this dish. The raisins in the potato salad, or what have you. I was shocked and surprised myself, when I first bit into the soup and discovered a tartness counter-balancing the mellow sweet and savory flavors that had all been dumped into this thing. But they are very, very important.
Apples. You’re going to dice up apples and put them into this soup. Tart ones, if you can get them. No Honey Crisps here. Get some Granny Smiths and get to cutting.
This is the peak chaos of the MLS Chaos Theory Mulligatawny soup experience. Apples don’t belong in a savory soup, or really, in soup at all. You know that. I know that. And yet, there they are, not even like saving a penalty, more like an outfield player saving a penalty and celebrating winning the match even though the match is not yet over.
Schlegel knew he wasn’t supposed to be out there in Keeper gloves. Even the save he made, a massive, game-altering penalty save, contained all the grace of a fifty-year-old Sunday league keeper trying to figure out how to make a save without actually falling to the ground. And yet! The save was made. And it was important, and good, and perfect.
That’s what the apples are like.
Finally, you’re going to finish this off with some herbs, some spices, and a bit of lemon zest, just to give it that extra zing we all know every dish needs. And you’re done. Take the soup. Eat the soup. Feel the warmth of chaos banish the chill of existence from your bones.
There will be those who do not like this soup. Just as there are those that do not like MLS. And ultimately, I’m ok with that. I feel we’ve progressed past the point to need to be loved or even liked by people who aren’t going to appreciate the some of the stranger elements that they’re not used to. “Not a sport” is only two letters away from “Not a soup.”
But I invite you, intrepid cook, to eat your fill. There’s very little that can replace the nourishment of a good soup. And when the soup comes with such surprises and shocks as these? The more the better. It may not be like any other classic soup you’ve had out there. But it’s worth your time.
MLS Chaos Theory Mulligatawny Soup
Heat in one soup pot over medium heat:
-3/4ths cup of butter
-3/4ths cup diced onion
-3 carrots, diced
-6 celery ribs, diced
When vegetable have softened, add and cook, stirring, about 3 minutes:
-3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
-2 tablespoons curry powder
-4 cups poultry stock, chicken broth, or other light broth
-3 bay leaves
Boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 15 minutes. Add:
-3/4ths cup diced apples
-1 1/2 cups cooked rice
-1 1/2 cups cooked chicken
-2 teaspoons salt
-3/4ths teaspoon black pepper
-1/2 teaspoon thyme
-1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
Simmer 15 minutes longer, then remove bay leaves. Immediately before serving, stir in:
-1 cup heavy cream
Heat through, but do not boil. Serve hot. Enjoy with MLS Cup Playoffs.
