Stone Soup

"Once upon a time (“far, far away!” someone shouted), there was an old man.” So the story of Stone Soup began, told by a friend sitting next to me. “Now, this old man was poor and he was hungry. He had been wandering the countryside for a while and was hoping to happen upon some food. He found himself in a small village and began to ask the townspeople if they would be able to share a meal with him. But everyone refused, telling him how hungry they were, how they barely had enough for themselves. After being refused time and time again, the old man called everyone to the center of the village. ‘I would like to make you all a meal. It will be the best meal you have ever had! All we need is a pot of water and a stone.’ ‘A stone?!’ the villagers asked, incredulously. The old man assented, then paused: ‘But I have just remembered! This stone soup will be even more delicious with an onion.’ A villager piped up, ‘I have an onion!’ And off she went running to get her onion so she could add it to the soup. ‘What about a clove of garlic?’ someone asked. ‘Yes,  I think that would be quite good.’ The soldier responded. Soon all the villagers were hurrying off to their pantries, grabbing whatever they had, even if it was only a carrot or a sprig of parsley. They all brought their ingredients and added them to the large pot of boiling water. Soon, a wonderful, rich smell began to emanate from the pot. The village had made stone soup. It was the best and the biggest meal that they had eaten in a long time. The entire community had contributed what they had and they all came together that night to dine on stone soup.”

I found myself beaming as I listened to the story. A few weeks ago when I told my friends this story over one of our first “Stone Soup” dinners, they had never heard it before. It was a story I grew up with and was reminded of when friends and I began to cook and eat together here in Israel. Everyone contributes a little something, even if it was just a can of sweet corn or a red pepper. And suddenly we have a huge meal, always enough to feed the 12+ people who end up at dinner.



Everyone was entranced by the story. We listened in silence, a warm, comfortable feeling settling over the group. The table was covered with food. Everyone had made something: a béchamel broccoli and cheese sauce (my grandmother’s recipe); a spicy curry with a fluffy cheese and pomegranate seeds as garnish; a salad with mint, oranges and nuts, oatmeal honey bread (my recipe), couscous…more food than we thought we could eat, although we finished it all with relish!
The story of Stone Soup has evolved in the same way that the group of people has. Details are added as more and more people show up. A story that I told in three minutes the first time to five people has lengthened to fifteen minutes told to sixteen people. The main character changes with the story teller. Recounting this story has become a ritual, our own little tribute to the beauty of these loud, delicious meals.

One of the first Stone Soup dinners. Definitely the smallest, only six people!

Coming to Israel, I was preoccupied with the task of meeting people and making friends. I met the closest group of friends that I have ever had within my first week at Wesleyan. We are a group of people so different from one another, but so connected. I am constantly amazed by my friends at Wesleyan and am so proud of all of them. They have become so important to who I am and how I understand the world, constantly opening my eyes to new things. They are my family!
So, people in Israel had big boots to fill! Honestly, I have been unimpressed by many of the people that I have met here. There is something lacking in the way that they interact with the world and approach their lives, something that I wasn’t even aware a human being couldbe lacking. I am privileged enough to have gone to small, private schools my entire life and have always been surrounded by people interested in learning, intelligent, passionate, curious people. Coming to Israel, I feel that sparkle missing from the majority of the people I met. Luckily, I have found a fabulous group of kind, interested, smart people.

Shabbat candles: birthday candles stuck in cheese. Flowers: cutout rose in Coca-Cola bottle. Very classy!

Someone lit the Shabbat candles: two  birthday  candles stuck in a chunk of really  disgusting  cheese (had to put to use  somehow) placed on top  of a stack of  brightly colored cups. Someone else  turned  on two electric candles. This was  truly our Shabbat and everyone laughed  heartilyat the wonderful  absurdity. We  poured wine contributed by the  hosting  apartment and blessed it. Although not  everyone was Jewish, the ritual felt nice.

Challah, noodles, asparagus and mushrooms, cauliflower curry, fried eggplant and red peppers and tomatoes, delicious salad. Not shown: cheese and broccoli sauce, pita chips, cinnamon couscous. YUM!

It had  been a long week and we were all gathered  together, to spend time with one another, to enjoy  each other’s company and good food and to begin  a short period of rest. These are values that I have  always cherished in the Shabbat ritual (for those  of you who do not know, Shabbat is the weekly  Jewish holiday celebrated from sundown on  Friday to sundown on Saturday. It is a period of rest mirroring the seventh day, God’s day of rest after the creation of the world.) Shabbat has always been one of my favorite Jewish holidays. And looking around at my friends over a table with a cutout roseplaced in a coke bottle (a replacement for real flowers), with multi-colored plates and cups, I felt the value of being part of such a great group of people.

My overflowing plate. My mouth is watering just thinking about it!

And we began to pass the food. My tiny plate was soon covered in food and I had to begin putting things on top of each other. “I haven’t tasted a bite of anything that wasn’t delicious!” My neighbor said. I agreed. Conversation flowed and the tiny apartment was filled with laughter. “Here, try this!” “Do you want the last bite?” “Wow! Who made this?” Stories were told, observations made, questions asked. People switched places, shared chairs, got up to get more. People knocked on the door and came to join the meal, knowing no invitation was necessary.
After clearing, cleaning and wiping the table, we began to play games (Catchphrase (a person has to describe a word/phrase for their team before time is up) and Papalitos (people must describe, act, describe in one word and act in one motion characters for their team). People who didn’t know one another very well were soon connected by hilarious moments. We acted and made weird sounds, trying to describe words and characters for our teams. Soon it was 1:30AM and people began to clear out. I helped clean up and said goodbye. Began to walk over to my apartment in my socks over the dusty path. “Elisa!” I heard. “What?” I shouted back, not sure where the voice was coming from. “You forgot your mangoes!” My arms were filled with plates, cups and extra food. “Ohhh….” “It’s ok! You can get them tomorrow!” And so was set down the promise of another day, more time with these fabulous people and definitely, definitely the promise of more food!