Earlier this year, the New York Times published an illustrated essay by part-time Vermonter Major Jackson called “Finding Beauty in a Bowl of Soup.” It starts with an artist’s image of hands becoming almost one with the soup bowl they’re cupping. The poet and Vanderbilt University professor describes a meal that took place years ago, when he spent his last few dollars on chicken noodle soup at Veselka, the legendary Ukrainian restaurant in Manhattan’s East Village. “At first spoonful, I no longer heard other diners’ late-night conversations or song lyrics on the radio,” Jackson, 57, wrote. “My eyes closed. All was mute as though all my other senses had shut down. I held the suspended spoon and relished a modest bowl of vegetables and shredded chicken commingled in a hot broth.” Soup, he continued, remains his favorite dish: “The comfort wrought from a medley of ingredients thrown into a pot gives a home warmth. It is that feeling I aim for when writing poetry and that I relish when reading.” The interweaving of poetry and soup presaged Jackson’s next book, A Bowl of Goodness: Nourishing Poems With a Side of Soup, an anthology due out from Storey Publishing next fall. Jackson told Seven Days that the New York Times piece was “mildly” adapted from the book’s introduction. But writing it also made him “rethink some of what I truly find compelling about soup, and that it is a gesture of kindness, as well as nourishment.” Jackson taught at the University of Vermont from 2002 to 2020. He and his wife, poet Didi Jackson, now split their time between the small Windsor County town of Rochester and Nashville, Tenn., where they both teach at Vanderbilt. Major Jackson said his new book will include 65 poems and 24 recipes, plus reflections on soup by novelist Ann Patchett, food critic Jeff Gordinier, author Michael Ruhlman and chef Jim Huntington, co-owner of Maple Soul in Rochester. Seven Days asked Jackson about the intersection of soup and poetry, how he selected both soup recipes and poems for his book, and what really qualifies as soup, anyway. He also shared a preview of a poem by his wife that will be paired in the book with an Italian white bean vegetable soup recipe. Major Jackson cooking ribollita Credit: Courtesy of Tim Gollins One of the lines in your 2012 poem “Why I Write Poetry” reads: “Because soup reminds me of the warmth of my grandmother and old aunts.” Clearly, you have deep appreciation for both poetry and soup, going way back. How did you arrive at the idea to pair them in a book?  I lived in one of those homes where food and cooking were overt expressions of care and love. Both of my grandparents loved to cook. My grandfather served in the military kitchen at Fort Bragg, N.C., a task that had him cooking for thousands of men before they shipped off to Europe. I have forgotten most of his army stories, but I have never forgotten his spirit of pride and dedication, nor the random cooking lessons he would bestow to me as a child. The [book] idea emerged because I had a ton of books in my home in Mayfair Park [in South Burlington] and I wanted to get rid of them. Initially, I was going to set up a table and give them away; then I thought of selling them at the Burlington Farmers Market with jars of homemade soup whose label contained a poem on the back. I was going to name the business Poet Soup. Then I visited the University of Michigan to give a poetry reading and talk. At lunch, my friend poet Linda Gregerson suggested, while blowing on her homemade pea soup, “Major, skip the business. Publish a cookbook with soup recipes and poems.” Are all the poems specifically about soup? And how did you find them? Most of the poems are about soup, but a few poems are lyric meditations on ingredients (onions, bay leaves, stocks), family, loss and just every other imaginable topic that touches humans. To my initial surprise, literary cookbooks and anthologies are their own genre; now, I collect them. The modernist poet and art patron Gertrude Stein’s partner penned The Alice B. Toklas Cook Book, which has a wonderful chapter titled “Beautiful Soup,” all about gazpacho. Students, faculty and alumni contributed to The Iowa Writers’ Workshop Cookbook, published in the 1980s. Then there is The Hungry Ear: Poems of Food and Drink, edited by my friend Kevin Young. I surveyed a bunch of similar poetry and food anthologies. Some of the poems made it in, but many were tragically dated. So I researched poems online at literary journals, academic databases and poetry websites. I gathered over 200 poems; then I faced the difficult task of selecting and narrowing my choices. My best hope is that I can follow up on this book with a second volume. Many of the poems are public domain and famous, like William Thackeray’s “The Ballad of Bouillabaisse.” How did you source and test the soup recipes?   I cooked my way through many that I found in cookbooks, including several from a “favorite recipes of celebrities” cookbook. Did you know Ronald Reagan’s favorite was hamburger soup? I could never get the soup to look like the photographs. My family served as my primary audience. Didi’s favorite is my soupe au pistou, which I first tasted at Leunig’s [in Burlington] — a dish so good I was daunted to try my own hand at it. The trick, of course, is just-harvested vegetables and homemade pesto, though store bought is only a half grade below, in my opinion. I could see I was wearing my family thin with obsessive talk of aromatics, how to doctor an overly salted broth, whether or not bouillons or store-bought stocks are cheating. After eating too many of my black bean and potato-leek soups, I decided to order only soup from every restaurant I patronized, or to host soup parties. I even created an Instagram account to track my soup journey (@poet_soup). What advice might you give to Seven Days readers thinking about hosting a soup party? Soup events are popular around the world. The town of Columbus, Ohio, hosts SoupFest, a popular fundraiser that addresses food inequities. My favorite commemorates the night a woman in Geneva, Switzerland, Catherine Cheynel Royaume, heard a troop of men scaling the town wall to invade the city. She poured the vegetable soup she was making on their heads. There’s an annual festival, L’Escalade, and a street named in her honor. A soup party is very much like a festival. Consider your invitation list; soup parties are not for very serious people but those who enjoy the whimsy of the occasion. I recommend upbeat music that is suitable to the meal. If serving gumbo, for example, throw on some zydeco or your favorite jug band. There should be a variety of soups, say three or more. You might want to turn your soup party into a soup potluck. Put as much attention into the accompanying sides, especially the bread. But the main feature is the soup, so consider the correct serving dishes. If cooking a rustic soup like French onion, find an appropriate soup mug, and, vice versa, you will not want to serve a delicate tomato bisque in a stoneware crock. I only serve chilled fruit soups in fluted glasses. Presentation matters with soup; it’s part of the experience. Your book includes a poem by Japanese American poet Garrett Hongo about his Hawaiian grandmother’s miso with a recipe for miso-halibut soup, and Joseph Millar’s poem dedicated to Navajo poet Luci Tapahonso, paired with beef stew. But is a stew really soup? The stew versus soup debate has been ongoing among friends and family. I am on the side of: If it’s liquid, it’s soup. This interview was edited for clarity and length. Didi and Major Jackson cooking ribollita Credit: Courtesy of Tim Gollins Ribollita By Didi Jackson In a Tuscan farmhouse I cook ribollita, a peasant soup of white beans, crumbled bread, and kale, as the campanile di San Biagio rings in the centuries. Though not Catholic, maybe not even a Christian, I kneel in the shadow of this church and look deep inside the sleeves of a sweater I’ve worn too many months. After taking his own life, the husband I knew burned in a box I chose from several boxes. I also chose his clothes, the urn, and in the end asked for him to look like death, not a false life. Yet here I am, considering a soup hundreds of years old, the golden altar of the Madonna de Buon Viaggio, and the sound of bells in the lower fields near our farm. I know the path to the San Biagio like I know the roof of my own mouth, bells like foil between my teeth: electric. The scent of footprints might confuse the dead, but each night I end up between the sheets, windows open in the last hour of lovemaking among bed bugs and common centipedes. In my new husband’s arms, trafficking old scars, I hear the prune plums fall from the trees. I will collect and skin them in the morning. Ribollita Soup Adapted from the forthcoming Bowl of Goodness: Nourishing Poems With a Side of Soup (Storey Publishing, fall 2026) by Major Jackson. Serves 6 to 8 My wife and I traveled one summer to the medieval hilltop town of Montepulciano in Italy. We worked for three weeks on our poems in an old farmhouse, went for daily walks and then cooked in the evenings. We were thrilled to try this centuries-old Tuscan soup, described by food writers as a peasant dish of fresh vegetables and croûtes made from day-old bread. Ingredients 2 cups canned cannellini beans, drained and rinsed 3 tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for drizzling 1 large onion, chopped 1 leek, chopped 2 carrots, peeled and diced 2 celery stalks, chopped 4 garlic cloves, finely chopped Salt and pepper, to taste 2 potatoes, diced 2 zucchini, diced (See testing note below.) 2 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped (See testing note below.) 1 teaspoon sun-dried tomato paste (See testing note below.) 8 cups vegetable stock 2 1/2 cups shredded kale or Swiss chard 2 1/2 cups shredded Savoy or green cabbage 6 to 8 slices of day-old bread (sourdough, ciabatta or baguette) 3 garlic cloves, halved Directions Put half of the beans into a food processor and process briefly to a coarse purée. Set aside. Heat the oil in a large soup pot set over medium-low heat. Add the onion, leek, carrot, celery, garlic, a good pinch of salt and several grinds of pepper. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, for 8 to 10 minutes. Add the potatoes and zucchini with another pinch of salt and several grinds of pepper and cook, stirring continuously, for another 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes and tomato paste and cook, stirring continuously, for another 3 minutes. Stir in the bean purée and cook, stirring continuously, for another 2 minutes. Season once more with a good pinch of salt and several grinds of pepper. Pour in the vegetable stock and stir in the kale and cabbage. Increase the heat to medium and bring the soup to a boil. Lower the heat to maintain a simmer and cook for at least an hour and up to 2 hours, covered with the pot lid slightly ajar. Toward the end of the cooking time, make the croûtes. Preheat the broiler. Rub the bread with the halved garlic cloves and toast on both sides. Place a croûte in the bottom of each soup bowl. Stir the remaining beans into the soup and heat through gently for 10 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Ladle the soup into bowls over the croûtes. Drizzle with olive oil and serve immediately. Seven Days Testing Notes: In place of zucchini, feel free to use another seasonal vegetable, such as diced turnip or parsnip. Similarly, a 14.5-ounce can of diced tomatoes can substitute for the fresh tomatoes. I did not have sun-dried tomato paste on hand, so I used a larger amount (1 tablespoon) of regular tomato paste. This soup benefits from liberal doses of salt and pepper. I also like it topped with freshly grated Parmesan cheese. The original print version of this article was headlined “Alphabet Soup | Poet Major Jackson pairs poetry with a side of soup in his forthcoming anthology” The post Poet and Part-Time Vermonter Major Jackson Pairs Poems With Soup appeared first on Seven Days. ...read more read less