Caldo in the Summer? “¿Pero por qué, mamá?”
Growing up in the scorching Coachella Valley desert, I could never understand why caldo was on the menu during the summer.
Con tanta calor, ¿pero por qué? I’d whine.
But now? Now it all makes sense.
The other day, with the slightest shift in weather, I noticed my son had a bit of clear mucus, and boom—I was off to the carnicería to get chicken thighs. Something about that small change in his health triggered a deeply embedded instinct: el caldito de mamá.
While at the store, the woman behind the counter smiled when I told her what I was making.
“Ay, las mamás sí que nos enseñan a hacerle la sopita a nuestros bebés,” she said.
Then she leaned in with a bit of wisdom: “Get the one with the skin on it—it’ll give it flavor.”
Turns out, caldo isn’t just comfort food—it’s medicine.
In many cultures, hot foods like soups are more than just meals—they’re healing rituals. In Latin America, during la cuarentena (the traditional 40-day rest period after giving birth), women often eat only warm, soothing foods—especially soups—to support their recovery and well-being.
When I had my son, I Googled everything. That’s when I learned about Korea’s miyeok-guk, or seaweed soup. It’s traditionally given to new mothers postpartum because of its rich nutritional profile. It’s made with dried seaweed, shaved beef, beef broth, guk-ganjang (Korean soy sauce), minced garlic, and sesame oil.
Miyeok-guk is packed with iodine, iron, calcium, and other vital nutrients that help balance hormones and promote lactation. It’s so special, in fact, that it’s also the soup served on birthdays in Korea—a beautiful tradition that ties nourishment to celebration.
At my house, our version is caldito de pollo. It’s made with chicken (skin-on, of course), diced potatoes, zanahorias, calabacitas italianas, onions, garlic, oregano, and a roasted tomato base simmered in chicken broth.
Really, these calditos go beyond tradition. They’re curativos—healing, nourishing bowls of love.
And within families, healing soups are especially powerful. They offer more than warmth—they’re a way to nurture each other through colds, transitions, and long days. In a pot of simmering broth, we pass down recipes, culture, and care from one generation to the next. Soup becomes a quiet act of love, served one ladle at a time.
So yes, caldo en el verano might sound a little wild. But when you realize it’s about keeping our children healthy, strong, and comforted, it kind of makes sense.
Just maybe… don’t turn off the A/C while you’re at it.
