My husband is a strapping Oregonian native, a descendant of fur trapping stock that’s called Oregon home since the 1800’s. Needless to say, he comes from hearty people. Had my Caribbean-blooded people attempted the Oregon trail, they probably would have either died by the time we left the Missouri border (I’m not sure we would’ve ever made it to the starting line in Missouri in the first place), or we would have lived off of sheer tenacity and copious amounts of rum. We are thin, solar-powered, and not terribly robust humans, but dangit, we got heart and fire in our blood! If you’re familiar at all with the Ayurvedic doshas (physical constitution types), I’m a big-time vata. Thin, wiry, easily cold, racing mind, creative type, dreamer, emotional, and when imbalanced, anxious with poor digestive fire. And this vata thrives on a hot, easily digestable meal like soup–especially during fall and winter. My husband, however, is the poster child for pittas and his digestive fire, is, well on FIRE. The man can seriously eat like no other! And in his humble opinion, most soups might as well water the garden, because he sees very little reason to waste his time on slurping on several bowls of liquid for an hour when it’s going to do nothing to satiate his appetite. But I’ve been slowly working on changing his attitude about soups and stews. If I make a soup/stew for the both of us, I need to ensure that it has a lot of meat, fish and/or potatoes, celeriac, starchy vegetables, etc. in it. So far, so good! This particular soup came about one night when I was trying to figure out what do with all the cod and rockfish he caught off the coast of Oregon, as well as the chanterelles he foraged in the woods. It’s a combination of a couple of recipes (Spanish and Puerto Rican) with some adaptations….