I love soup. I love ginger. I love coconut. And if I’m being honest, my favorite color has always been orange, so perhaps this soup was destined to find its way into my kitchen.

Carrots have also had a place in my life that goes well beyond soup.

Years ago, when I was trying to rebuild my health after becoming ill following extensive pesticide exposure on golf courses, I drank an enormous amount of fresh juice. Carrot juice—and especially carrot, apple, and ginger—became part of the way I chose to detox and heal myself during that time. I remember those glasses of brilliant orange juice as something I loved to make for myself each day when taking care of my body felt especially important.

Carrots have a long association with nourishment for good reason. Their extraordinary orange color comes largely from beta-carotene, a carotenoid our bodies can convert into vitamin A. We often associate vitamin A with eyesight, but its work goes well beyond vision—it also plays important roles in normal immune function, growth, cellular development, and maintaining healthy tissues. 

Carrot juice has also been central to healing traditions such as the Gerson regimen for decades. That particular therapy is only one example of how prominently carrots and vegetable juices have figured in different approaches for detox and healing. 

Later, during my years doing the Vidal Speaks podcast, I interviewed Soupelina, whose work centered around using warm soups for healing and I remember that carrots were favorites in her kitchen too. I loved that because by then I already understood the appeal of using a warm soup instead of cold raw food for wellness.

There is something rather wonderful about taking an everyday vegetable and allowing it to become the center of the bowl. And carrots really are everyday vegetables. I eat them with hummus, throw them into stir-fries, shred them into all kinds of things, and happily crunch them raw. But there is something different about putting cups and cups of carrots into one pot and transforming them into this impossibly silky golden soup.

The ginger is important. I don’t want it hiding in the background; I want enough that you feel its warmth. Ginger has a very long history of culinary and traditional medicinal use, particularly for digestive complaints, and today it has been studied most extensively for things such as nausea, although the strength of evidence varies depending on the use. 

Then comes the coconut milk, cool and creamy against all that ginger warmth. And finally the orange juice and lemon brighten everything. You don’t necessarily take a spoonful and think orange juice. It simply gives the carrots a lift and keeps all that coconut creaminess from becoming too heavy.

That’s what I love about this soup: every ingredient seems to know exactly what it is there to do.

I make it more often in winter, when a glowing bowl of soup feels particularly welcome, although there is really no reason to wait for cold weather. Add a thick slice of toasted sourdough alongside it and, as far as I’m concerned, dinner is taken care of.

Perhaps that’s what Food That Feels Like Medicine means most to me. I love discovering foods that are deeply nourishing and also happen to be foods I would choose simply because they’re delicious. I don’t want to eat something because a chart tells me it’s good for me. I want to smell it cooking, sit down hungry, take the first spoonful and think, Oh, this is good.

And when that same beautiful bowl happens to be filled with carrots, ginger, citrus, and plants that bring so much nourishment along with them, that’s the best of both worlds.

Satisfaction and nourishment, together in one glowing orange bowl.