A soup to ease your troubles

Published 1:30 am Thursday, March 12, 2026

One of my earliest memories is of my first panic attack. At three years old, for whatever reason I can only guess (because only a fool claims to understand the motives of an unsupervised toddler), I popped my parents’ waterbed with my father’s screwdriver. I don’t recall the stabbing act itself, but I vividly remember the sight of the water starting to spread across the blue sheets and realizing I made a mistake.

I found a towel on the floor and pressed it against the hole, but the harder I pressed to erase my error, the more water gushed out and spilled onto the carpet. I ran around the room grabbing every towel and sweater I could find to help me sop up the evidence, and when the whole laundry basket had been used to no avail, I began to panic. I remember the moment I accepted that there was no way to fix this, and that no matter what I did, my mother would be very mad at me, and I was immediately sick on the floor.

I ran from the scene of the crime to find a place to hide. I crawled into my wooden toybox on the floor of my closet and pulled my toys over me, being sure to hide my eyes. I tried to hold my breath to stop my crying, but I could not control the gasping breaths or whimpers of fear. My tiny body started to shake and shiver, freezing cold and drenched in sweat. I saw stars and swirls, and then my vision went black.

I do not remember the resolution. I cannot tell you how my mother reacted, and I never spoke to her about the event as an older child. What is clear is the effect that fear had on me, and how it changed my life. From then on, I did not just fear anger, as I clearly already did; I also feared the physical ordeal that came with waiting for it to come. I spent the rest of my life on high alert, analyzing the moods and actions of everyone around me to catch problems before they start, desperate to keep myself in the world’s good graces to keep the sickness in my stomach and off the floor. By age 19, the fear sickness in my stomach had already burned a hole.

I’ve always been an anxious person, but some things help to keep me calm. Having bins of beans and rice eases my fear that my child might go hungry, so I always keep my dry pantry stocked. One of my staples is dried soybeans, which are nutritious and endlessly versatile, and can be purchased online. I used some to make a lesser-known Korean soup — soybean pulp stew. The spicy, sour kimchi cuts through the nutty soybean pulp in the broth and balances the fatty bites of pork. Served with a steaming bowl of rice, this meal comforts like a teddy bear over your eyes.

Ingredients for two servings:

½ cup dry soybeans

½ white onion, diced

1 cup kimchi, chopped

8 ounces pork shoulder, diced

5 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup diced zucchini

2 teaspoons fish sauce

3-4 cups chicken stock

1-2 tablespoons red pepper powder

1 jalapeno, sliced

3 green onions, chopped

Directions:

Soak your dry soybeans overnight in water. Drain and rinse thoroughly.

Boil the soybeans in fresh water for 15 minutes, drain, rinse again and cool.

Transfer the beans to a food processor and add water to the level of the beans.

Blend until smooth. The paste should be the texture of thick applesauce.

In a large saucepan, brown the diced pork, then add the kimchi, onion and garlic, and sauté until the onions are soft.

Add the red pepper powder and stir for just a minute, then pour in the broth and fish sauce.

Bring the soup to a boil and cook for 5 minutes before adding the zucchini. Gently stir and cook for 5 more minutes.

Very gently drop the paste into the soup and do not stir. Cook until bubbling vigorously, then turn off the heat, top with green onion and sliced jalapenos, and serve.