Spring Tortellini Soup with Peas and Parmesan

As I write this little post, I’m sitting here staring at 4 giant black trash bags (like the big black lawn and leaf bags that murderers use for dead bodies) stuffed full of clothes and stuff. These bags have been hanging around for a while, long enough to be like an adjunct family member. They’ve moved around a bit, hanging out in my closet for about a month before moving to the living room for a few days. Eventually they’ll make their way to the garage for a rest before hitting the trunk of the car, where they’ll sit for about a week before my husband gently (at first) demands that they finally get dropped off at Goodwill.

Why, oh why, do we do this to ourselves, friends?

What is it about the dreaded charity drop off that takes just about everything out of us and also extends itself way past its naturally required time frame of, I don’t know, 2 days–TOPS?

Please tell me I’m not alone.

This happens to me at least twice a year. This major freak out over clutter that involves trash bags, cursing, and terrified children begging their lunatic mother not to throw away their most prized possession, like that trinket they won from treasure box back in second grade….It’s not a new occurrence. I can get crazy with the charity clean out and then lazy with the charity drop-off with the best of them. We can gauge the start of a new season by this phenomenon. 

But this time feels different somehow. Probably because this time I’m going after my stuff and leaving the kids junk alone. This go-round I’m cleaning out my own junk and shedding years and years of baggage with every toss. Yes, friends, I’m diving headfirst into my own closet and getting serious about the business of change.

Because, friends, what is in my closet is astounding to me, and not in a good way. It’s heartbreaking to stare at the rows of clothes and shoes and excess and know that it signifies years of trying to figure out who I was and why I was so empty in places I should have felt filled. It’s sad to see these pieces and know that the woman who bought them needed them to feel important. It’s like a weight on my soul, knowing that this woman was me and that I used to think what I wore and looked like mattered so very much.

Each item is more than just a piece of clothing or a pair of shoes, it’s a reminder of a place I now can’t imagine ever being in. Each one feels like an extension of a thirst that I couldn’t quench and an itch I couldn’t scratch. But damn if I didn’t keep trying and wanting and buying.

It’s not that now I’m so evolved that I don’t want nice things or desire to look cute for my husband, of course I do. I desperately want a new sofa (still rocking the stained one over here), I really am digging the spring romper look, and I could honestly buy grey t-shirts in every single style and die a happy woman.  It’s just that I don’t feel defined by any of this anymore. I’m not using these things to tell me who I am and why I matter.

I used to have this hole, somewhere deep, that kept emptying out no matter how fast I filled it. I looked for permanent solutions in friendships, my marriage, my children, my wardrobe, my job. And I never found it. It’s exhausting, y’all, to continually be on the search for a filler. It’s like fighting aging, and we all know how I feel about that.

For a long time I was on a search for something that would make feel whole and valuable and relevant, like I mattered. I don’t think I am the only one who has done this, either. I think we’re all trying to define ourselves one way or another….whether we’re conscious of it or not. We spend each and every day of our lives crafting a finely woven thread of identity that helps fill the void and tells us (and the world) who we really are.

Those are our leaky cisterns, friends. Those are the things on earth that are no more permanent than the wind. Peace and joy, those emotions that we all look for when we’re shopping or drinking or doing whatever it is that we are turning towards to find ourselves, that comes from somewhere else. And it can’t be built and it can’t be bought. We’re all the Samaritan woman at the well, my dears, we’re all thirsty. But if we’re drinking from any well other than the one that gives life and love and peace, we’re drawing from the wrong one.

I’m not here telling you that you should go and sell all of your possessions and join a convent. And it’s not even a judgement on you, really. This is more my story, I guess. But honestly, every time I lighten myself of one shirt, one skirt, one pair of shoes, I feel a thread of the need that I had for that item, the drive to purchase it, fall away. I breathe a bit easier and feel a bit lighter. Knowing now that none of that defined me, that I’m really ok just as I am, in a grey t-shirt and hole-y jeans, sporting a messy bun and chapstick. This is me, and I’m loved for way more than what I have in my closet.

In fact, I’m loved in spite of it. And that’s saying something.

And in light of this massive spring clean out I’m working through, I’ve decided to share the lightest and cleanest spring soup I can imagine. I almost feel guilty calling this a recipe; it’s that simple. In college I would make a version of this with my roommates, just tortellini, broth and Parmesan cheese. It was so simple, yet when you got just the right spoonful with broth, tortellini and a bunch of melted cheese, it tasted darn near heaven. I never could forget that soup, and would go through cravings for it here and there. Now, as an adult, I’ve pumped it up a bit, adding peas for their sweetness and lots of pepper to contrast. But, friends, this is one of those meals that even the most anti-cook can cook. It’s so easy and paired with a crisp salad (maybe this kale one), it’s a full meal that the whole family will love.

And also, if you are interested in checking out the stuff I’m selling go ahead and check out my Poshmark closet. I’ve got some good stuff for sale, and Poshmark is such an awesome little place to unload good stuff that you don’t want anymore. It’s like heaven on the internet for recovering clothes hoarders like myself. Give it a try.

Peace, love and spring cleaning,

Meg

Spring Tortellini Soup with Peas and Parmesan

September 4, 2019

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By: Meaghan Dawson

Ingredients

• 1 quart chicken stock (low sodium and organic if you can)
• 2 cups tortellini (use any kind you like, I prefer simple 3 Cheese)
• 1 cup frozen peas
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan Cheese plus more for topping
• 1/4 cup slivered basil
• Salt and Pepper

Directions

• Step 1 In a medium pot bring chicken stock to boil over high heat.
• Step 2 Add tortellini and cook to package directions.
• Step 3 In the last minute of cooking, add in the peas and cook until heated through.
• Step 4 Remove from heat and stir in the Parmesan, making sure it melts through the stock.
• Step 5 Taste and generously season with salt and pepper.
• Step 6 Serve topped with basil and more Parmesan.

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