Recently, I was thinking about something that probably all of us share without realizing it: when we need comfort, we look for a bowl of something hot and steaming. Everyone has their own version depending on where they come from. For some, it's chicken noodle soup; for others, pasta in broth like grandma used to make in Italy; for Asians, congees and slow-cooked rice porridges. In Eastern Europe, there's a strong tradition around beet soup, that sour borscht made with meat and vegetable broth that is almost synonymous with Ukrainian cuisine.

What's interesting is that these broths are not just food. They are woven into family memory, in those moments when you're sick, when you need to stretch ingredients to the max, or when you miss home. They rarely stand alone, but they are the foundation of almost everything.

Dara Klein, a chef who founded Tiella Trattoria in London, explains it well. She grew up in Emilia-Romagna, where broth is almost a religion. She says Italians learn to make broth from a young age and connect deeply with it. Brodo and consommé are different: brodo is richer and gelatinous because it's mainly made with bones, while consommé is lighter. Klein's recipe takes two and a half days of slow cooking to extract all the collagen without losing that characteristic light color.

The history of broths is fascinating. In ancient Chinese medicine, the Huangdi Neijing (a text from the 2nd century BC) already discussed soups and broths to maintain the balance of yin and yang. Chinese families still make soups with bones slowly cooked with medicinal herbs like goji berries and ginseng. Zoey Xinyi Gong, a Traditional Chinese Medicine therapist, comments that in her childhood, there was always soup at every meal. For her, a meal isn't complete without it.

Chicken soup, in particular, has a historic reputation for helping recovery. In Korea, samgye-tang (whole chicken stuffed with rice and ginseng in broth) is eaten on the hottest days of summer as a restorative dish. In Greece, avgolemono mixes chicken broth with egg, lemon, and rice. In Mexico, chicken broth is everyday fare: whole chicken slowly cooked with large vegetables, potatoes, and cabbage.

Science also supports this. Studies suggest that broths can help reduce inflammation and relieve cold symptoms. Bone broths contain collagen and amino acids, though one should be cautious about exaggerated claims circulating online about wellness.

What’s curious is how bone broth went from being a way to use up what nobody wanted to becoming a premium product in luxury supermarkets. Gong noticed this when she was studying in New York. She was surprised to see that something she grew up with was suddenly available in cafes for $10 a cup. But in China, they've been drinking it for centuries.

What fascinates me is that broths are not just for when you're unwell. They are also a celebration. In Emilia-Romagna, making tortellini in broth is a Christmas tradition. Families gather to make pasta by hand while the broth made with capon boils. In Poland, Christmas Eve features barszcz wigilijny, a fermented beetroot broth that requires days of preparation beforehand. The result is that ruby-red, tangy, earthy, and bright color.

In Hong Kong and China, soups cooked in a double boiler are a banquet luxury. Ingredients go into a sealed container that is submerged in boiling water, like sous-vide, to preserve delicate flavors. In Japan, New Year’s isn’t complete without o-zōni, a soup with mochi and dashi (Japanese broth made with dried kelp and bonito). Each region has its own version with different misos or preparations.

In the end, there are endless variations depending on climate, culture, and history. But everywhere, in every kitchen, there’s still someone in charge of the pot.