The Legend of Stone Soup

Once upon a time, a poor traveler came upon a ramshackle village. He had nothing to his name but the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet and a pitiful sack which housed all of his worldly possessions.  Dusk was fast approaching, so he decided to try his luck in finding food and shelter.  He came to the first house on the lane and knocked a friendly knock upon the door.  The homeowner cracked the door and peered at the stranger. “What do you want?” 

“I seek only a crust of bread and some shelter, kind fellow!  I shall continue on my way come morning.”  The person behind the door quickly shut it in the traveler’s face, but not before saying “we’ve no food to share, there is little enough for us as it is!”  Undaunted, the traveler tried the next house.  They, too, shut the door in his face.  So he tried the next house, and they kicked him to the curb and then shut the door in his face.

Perhaps, thought the traveler, I need a more clever plan. So, he searched the ground and found a lovely, smooth stone.  He polished it until it shined, and then approached the next house on the lane.  He knocked on the door.

“What do you want?!” said an irritable old woman.  “Ah, Madame!” said the traveller.  “I am just on my way through town and will be gone come morning.  I have food to share, but (alas!) I have no pot.  May I borrow yours?  I will happily share my dinner with you in return.”   Well, it had been a long time since the old woman had eaten anything beyond boiled onions, so she agreed to lend her pot to the traveler.  He built a small fire on the village green and placed the pot on to boil.  When the water started to simmer, he pulled out the smooth, shiny stone. With great dignity, he dropped it into the water with a satisfying “plop.”

This only seemed to make the old woman more irritable. “That’s it?” She scoffed. 

The traveler answered: “Most generous Madame!  This is no ordinary stone, it is a soup stone!  When it simmers it produces the most pleasant, delicious, and nutritious broth to fill your stomach and warm you from the inside out.  It is my most treasured possession.”  The irritable old woman then looked into the pot with slightly more interest than irritation.  “Could this be true?” she asked no one in particular. 

“It is, Madame!” the traveler answered. “As true as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, this is a 100% genuine first class soup stone. But,” and the traveler paused as if lost in a distant memory, “I have to admit it is even better if it includes a few onions.” 

Intrigued despite herself, the old woman murmured:   “I have onions.  More than I need.  I can add them to the soup.” 

The traveler was so grateful that he helped her peel and cut the onions before adding them to the delicious stone broth. Gradually more and more villagers’ curiosity overcame their fear and suspicion, and they emerged from their doors to observe the fuss on the village green. The traveler welcomed them all. This stone would produce plenty of soup for everyone. To  each villager, he casually mentioned  that the soup would be even better if it had just a small bit of yet another ingredient.  Even the stingiest villagers had to admit it was no hardship to share a few potatoes here, a bit of bacon there, a little cream, garden herbs, leftover meat and marrow from soup bones, a scoop of beans, rice, vegetables… and with each addition the soup became more fragrant and the gathering of villagers became more convivial. 

At last, the traveler pronounced the soup to be complete.  He took up the ladle, generously served the villagers before himself, and everyone agreed that this was some of the finest soup to have ever passed their lips.  There was plenty to go around and everyone ate their fill and then some.  “What amazing soup has come from this simple stone!” enthused one villager.  “It’s simply a miracle!” exclaimed another. Warmed inside and out by their delicious meal, the villagers began to smile… then to talk and laugh together in a way they hadn’t for years. Children danced between adults’ legs, and people found themselves arranging to dine together the next day, or gather together their children, or to sing and make music.

As the fire burned low, the old woman went to pick up her pot and asked the traveler if the stone was for sale.  “Madame,” he answered, “The stone’s magic is priceless.  It cannot be bought.”  

Finally alone, the traveler made his pallet and fell asleep next to the fire’s embers.  He awoke just before dawn turned the morning sky from a deep gray into purple.  He extinguished the fire, packed up his simple belongings into his pack and prepared to set out on the next part of his journey.  He took the stone from his pocket. He considered it and felt its weight before setting it down next to the ashes, smiling to himself.  The villagers would figure it out, he was sure. Giving the village a last look, he began to whistle one of his favorite tunes before making his way further out into the world in search of new adventures.