The best tomato soup in the world

As we approached the slightly run down two-story building that makes up the Tara Gaon “Resort” in the hilltop village of Kakani, I was resigned to the notion that my lunch choices would be limited to the standard fare of dal bhat (rice with lentils), veggie chow mein, or my old friend the cheese and tomato sandwich. Having been a vegetarian for the last 33 years, the chicken and water buffalo dishes held no allure for me although Bonnie has become a big fan of chili chicken – despite all of the bones she has to eat around to get to the good parts.

Sachin backed the car next to the old Massey-Ferguson tractor in the parking area while we debated whether to dine there or look for something else. But, knowing that Kakani was very small and the choice of eating establishments was limited, we decided to take a chance.

Sachin had driven us up the steep landscape northwest of Kathmandu for over an hour to get to Kakani which has a breathtaking vista of the Himalayas on a clear day. But, as is typical by late morning, clouds had formed and obscured all but the very craggy tip of Ganesh Himal, the tallest mountain in this part of the range. We came upon the waiter and cook lounging in front of the building waiting for us, their first customers of the day. The waiter escorted us through the tiny indoor dining area to an umbrella-shaded table on a large patio perched on the lip of a precipice overlooking the valley and cloud-covered peaks. The nearby bright orange flowers, terraced hillsides, circling hawks and lounging buffalo almost made up for the inability to see the mountains clearly.

I had eaten a pretty big breakfast and wasn’t all that hungry, so I ordered mushroom soup and an egg sandwich. The waiter came back to say the mushroom soup was unavailable and asked if I could make another choice. “Tomato,” I said without looking at the menu. It was a safe choice even though I expected it to be little more than a generic version of the Campbell’s tomato soup that nourished me as a child. At least the liquid warmth of it might counter what I knew from experience would be a cold fried egg trapped between two pieces of dry white bread.

Since my order was simpler to make than the others, the soup was delivered first. In mid-conversation, I brought the first spoonful of it to my lips. After that initial taste, I said nothing more for several minutes as I closed my eyes and savored the red nector as it dribbled down the back of my throat. This can’t be true, I thought. This stuff is amazing! Then, as a break from the soup-induced ecstasy, I selected one of the ten lazily floating croutons and popped it in my mouth. It softened like cold butter on a warm stove, releasing its herbal, slightly spicey flavors ever so slowly. Then back and forth, back and forth went my spoon between the soup and the equally delicious croutons until I was scraping the glaze off the bottom of the bowl trying to get the very last drop and soggy crumb.

I then announced to Bonnie, Sachin and the rest of the world that this bowl of tomato soup was not only the best tomato soup I had ever tasted but, in fact, the best soup I had ever tasted. And all I had to do to find it was travel halfway around the globe and drive up the side of a treacherous 6800 foot high mountain. But it only cost 100 rupees!!! Less than $1.50 for the best soup in the world!! This was the soup I imagined only Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi could make.

Jesus, you can take me home. For even though I have not seen the mountain, I have tasted Heaven.