Fennel and chickpea soup and he tangata

Soup cravings come on cold days, rainy days and sometimes on days when grief threatens to overwhelm. Soup in its many guises is my ultimate comfort food, bar mashed potato. It is the making and eating that brings a little salve for the soul, if only for a short while.

Our one-of-a-kind Uncle Rodger died a few weeks ago, he made us promise to use the word ‘dead.’ Not ‘passed’ (away, over or under), not ‘left’, not ‘lost’ and not ‘gone’. (As if he had somehow been carelessly misplaced.) I did ask if ‘carked it’ or ‘shuffled off this mortal coil’ were acceptable terminologies. We both had a good laugh at that.

It is difficult choosing words to describe a loved one who has died, my fear is that they may diminish and somehow confine the person you are writing about. Rodger was the strongest of the strong. The best of husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, uncles, friends, mentors and work colleagues. A teacher, therapist, board member of the Frederichs Ataxia Research Association of Australasia (the insidious disease that his three sons are and were afflicted with), an activist for social change and a man who refused to accept the status quo.

Rabidly rugby loving in a ‘shouty at the television’ kind of way, funny, headstrong, story-teller and family history orator. Outdoor adventurer, former Kathmandu model, lover of music, literature and beauty, gourmand, wine and whiskey aficionado. Empathetic and not afraid to cry. Renowned for his ongoing love affair with wood; building things out of it, collecting it, chopping it, admiring it and burning it. (The woodpiles he left are legendary.) This was a man who chose the timber for his own coffin and started to build it until he no longer could. This was a man who chose as his final song at his funeral, the eternally and everlastingly funny Monty Python song ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.’

He fought the foul cancer that took his life with everything he had. His amazing wife is one of the most quietly determined and supportive people you would probably ever hope to meet. They walked side by side in love and joie de vivre as well as in grief. Through the diagnosis of their three beautiful boys disease and the ongoing heartaches it brought, when their oldest son took in own life in his early twenties, through to the Christchurch earthquakes and when Rodger himself was diagnosed. Their spirits however, were never broken despite the ongoing crap that life threw at them.

Rodger was a beacon that always burnt brightly and he will be missed beyond measure. As an Uncle, he was easy to talk to, his puns knew no end and he was always interested in what was going on and what I had to say. One of his favourite sayings was a Maori proverb.

He aha te mea nui o te ao
What is the most important thing in the world?
He tangata, he tangata, he tangata
It is the people, it is the people, it is the people

So, after returning from New Zealand where we got to say goodbye, then celebrate and mourn his remarkable life, I needed soup. This was the soup I made. The chunky chickpea bites, the silky aniseed fennel alongside the slight hum of chilli and thyme is warming and nourishing. (It’s even better the next day.) Rodger would have hated it. He was bloody sick of soup of by the end of his life as it was the only thing he could eat. The cancer he battled, deprived him of eating the food he had always loved.

This soup is not for you Rodger but this post is. Because what truly makes this life worth living is the people, the people, the people.

FENNEL AND CHICKPEA SOUP

WHAT YOU NEED
3 tbl grapeseed or olive oil,
1 medium onion, finely diced
1 large fennel bulb, diced into 2 cm
4 celery stalks, chopped into roughly 2 cm dice
2 carrots, diced into 2cm
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1//4 tsp dried chilli flakes
2 litres vegetable stock
1 litre water
1 tin crushed tomato
800g cooked chickpeas, drained (I used two tins chickpeas.)
1/2 tsp dried thyme (1 tbsp fresh thyme)
2 fresh bay leaves
200g green beans, chopped
Salt and pepper

HOW YOU DO IT
Sauté onions, fennel, celery and carrot for about ten minutes in a large saucepan over a medium heat, until they start to soften.
Add the garlic and chilli and cook for one minute, stirring continually.
Add the stock, water, tomato, chickpeas, thyme and bay leaves. Add a few good grinds of pepper and about a teaspoon of sea salt. (My stock was homemade and did not contain salt, so do not add salt at this point if your stock contains salt.)
Bring the soup to the boil then reduce to a simmer.
Skim off any scummy frothy bits that float to the top.
Cook for about 60-80 minutes until the carrots and fennel are tender, check for seasoning.
Add the green beans and cook for about ten minutes until the beans are just tender and still a bright colour.
Serve in bowls and be comforted. This soup freezes very well.

Cooking Notes: I like this soup with a fair bit of broth so if you prefer a more ‘stew’ like soup, cut back the amount of water you add from 1 litre to 500ml of water.

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20 thoughts on “Fennel and chickpea soup and he tangata

  1. A beautiful, honest and touching tribute. Good soup, too… When my mother died, we were told how sorry people were that we had ‘lost’ her, as though we’d been careless and had left her somewhere.
    To die is part of the human condition, and I don’t know why it’s no longer socially acceptable to talk about it candidly. Your uncle sounds like a marvellous person: He mate ia a kua meinga matou iti.

  2. Anne Marie Leith

    Lisa your words of love to Rodger and his family are a beautiful tribute .Thanks for sharing this with us in the context of your life ,and your love of creativity and food making for body and soul.Thanks also for your strong commitment to loving and to honouring life’s pain and and loss and life’s joy and beauty.

  3. Beautifully written from the heart with pathos and humour Cheery, your Uncle Rodger is chuckling with pride at you continuation of the family story telling tradition. Time for soup…

  4. I am sorry for your loss, Lisa. Uncle Rodger sounds like a lovely person and an unforgettable character too! Imagine building one’s own coffin 🙂 I like that. Soup is good food when one is grieving, and yours looks comforting.

    • Thanks so, so much LM, he was an amazing man and I will continue to converse with him. (Even if he is no longer walking this realm.) It is a nice wee soup recipe, so much good soup in the world, so little time.

  5. What a beautiful post. I have to say that Uncle Rodger had great taste in songs. I’ll have to remember that… Great soup – hope happiness comes soon to you and your family.

  6. Such an amazing eulogy for Rodger Lisa. A remarkable man indeed. you bought him to life for us- I can almost hear him talking. The poem, the woodpile, his straight talking, his strength through suffering life’s unfair arrows. The ‘not for Rodger’ soup looks good too, but to tell you the truth, all I can think about is this strong man.

    • Thanks so much Francesca. If I have given you a sense of this remarkable man, then I have at least, done him a little justice. Your comment means more than I can say. Having a sad day today.

  7. This was really lovely Lisa,sorry. I’m sorry to hear about your uncle. What an amazing man! I think you must have a lot of amazing people in your family. Soup looks good too.
    -karalalala

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