Under the Choko Tree By Nevin Sweeney

The Magic Soup Stone

This is an old folk tale that can be used to demonstrate a number of points, but this one is written with an Australian flavour (forgive the pun) and is about making a thrifty flavourful dish from overlooked or unpromising resources. It was written back in the ‘80s by my old mate Bill Tarplee when he was publishing a small survivalist magazine out of Canberra.

Once upon a time, when bunyips still roamed the swamp, an old swaggie strode the track. He was tired and footsore; for many weary miles had he trudged, with only his Matilda for company. By chance he spied a gate in the gathering gloom and beyond, a light flickered.

The swaggie followed the track up to the small bark hut with a ramshackle door that hardly stopped the cold south winds; he rang the old cow bell on the doorpost and waited. The door was opened by a young woman surrounded by a horde of small children clad in hand-me-downs and sugar bags. “What do you want?” asked the woman suspiciously.

“Missus”, said the swaggie, “I’m an old man who has followed this flamin’ track for days, me feet is sore, me shoulders ache and me stomach is empty. I want a place to sit, a bite to eat, and a place out of the cold to sleep.”

“Well”, said the woman, “We might have a place for you to sit, and we might have a draft free place for you to sleep but we got nothing for you to eat. Me man’s at the innins and we’re broke. No money and no food.”

“Don’t worry about the food missus, cause I’ve got a magic soup stone in me pocket !” Said the swaggie.

“What’s a magic soup stone?” she asked curiously.

“Give me a warm spot in front of your fire and I’ll show you,” said the swaggie.

So they invited the swaggie in and sat him down by the fire, he pulled his boots off and warmed his hands and feet by the blaze. Then he pulled a smooth, round stone from his pocket. “This”, said he” is a magic soup stone. Put it in a kettle of hot water and you gets the best soup in the world.” With that he pulled the kettle out so that it sat over the flame and with great care he slipped the the soup stone into the kettle full of water. “In just a few minutes you’ll be eating magic soup!”

So they sat back and waited. After a few minutes the swaggie got up and stirred the kettle with a spoon. He carefully sipped a few drops. “Not bad” he said, “but needs a bit of body – you got any bones?” So they looked in the cupboard and right at the back corner were some bacon bones which the swaggie put in the kettle.

While the soup simmered the swaggie told tales of the fight at Eureka then he got up and carefully tried the soup again. “Real good” said he, “but it needs some rice to thicken it.” So the they looked around, the youngest son found some wheat in a tin out the back. “Wheat is as good as rice when you have a magic soup stone,” said the swaggie, as he dropped two handfuls into the kettle. Then he leaned back and told tales of the diggings at Echuca.

Soon the smell from the kettle made the listeners mouths water. Again the swaggie tried the soup, savouring just a few drops from the spoon. “Not real bad,” he said “just needs a few spuds to body it, ‘tis too thin.” So he packed the eldest off to bring back some potatoes from the field. In a short time they had chopped up new potatoes and some carrots and turnips too, all from the paddock down the way.

As the soup thickened, the swaggie told tales of shearing along the darling and catching hoop snakes along the outer Barcoo. Finally he got up and tried the soup again, “it’s just ‘bout done” he announced, “just needs some bread to round it out.” So they looked in the cupboard again and there was a half loaf of dried bread left. The woman cut this up into big chunks and they all sat down at the slab table and ate their fill of magic soup.

When they were done there was still half a kettle of the rick broth left. “That’ll do for breakfast,” the swaggie said and they all went to bed.
Next morning after the fire was lit and the kookaburra heralded the dawn, the woman reheated the kettle. They all sat around the table and ate the last of the magic soup. “I’ve got to be goin’ on ,” said the swaggie ”but I’ll leave me magic soup stone with you. It works every  time , good as last night . But if you want really special magic soup, you have got to put a few little extras in, just a hand full o’ this and a bit of that – whatever you can find.”

So the swaggie bid them farewell and shouldered his swag, the family stood by the door of the hut and waved farewell, with the magic soup stone safely in the woman’s apron pocket. When the swaggie reached the ford at the creek they saw him slow, and look around, then he bent and picked something up, but it was a long way away and no one could see what it was. Then he turned and waved again, and disappeared around a bend in the track.

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