NAIL SOUP

RETOLD BY CHRISTINE M. KOWALSKI
WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN, MY GRANDFATHER OFTEN TOLD US
THE STORY OF THE GYPSY WHO CLAIMED HE COULD MAKE SOUP
FROM A NAIL--JUST A COMMON ORDINARY NAIL. THIS IS HOW
IT WENT:
IN THE TOWN WHERE GRANDFATHER LIVED THERE WAS A MARKET-
PLACE. HERE THE PEASANTS GATHERED TO DISPLAY THE PRODUCTS OF
THEIR OWN SMALL FARMS. TALL, SERIOUS YOUNG FARMERS CAME
WITH THEIR TALKATIVE WIVES. BRIGHT RED, GREEN, AND YELLOW
KERCHIEFS WERE EVERYWHERE, AND TONGUES WAGGED WHILE BUSY
FINGERS PINCHED AND TESTED BEFORE BUYING.
ONE MARKET DAY, A SOLITARY GYPSY SETTLED HIMSELF IN THE
CENTER OF THE MARKETPLACE WITH A BUNDLE OF FAGOTS AND A
LARGE BLACK BAG. UNTYING THE FAGOTS, HE LAID THEM
CAREFULLY ON THE GROUND AND PROCEEDED TO LIGHT A FIRE.
A FEW PEOPLE PAUSED TO WATCH, CURIOUS TO SEE WHAT WAS
GOING ON. UNCONCERNED, THE GYPSY PRODUCED A BLACKENED
KETTLE FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE BAG, WALKED OVER TO THE TOWN
PUMP, AND FILLED IT HALF WAY. THE KETTLE HE SET UP OVER
THE FIRE ON A RUSTY CRANE.
"THESE FELLOWS ARE GETTING BOLDER RIGHT ALONG. THERE"S ONE
COOKING HIS DINNER UNDER OUR NOSES," SAID A FARMER AS HE
AND HIW WIFE PUSHED THROUGH THE CROWD OF BYSTANDERS.
JUST THEN THE GYPSY REACHED INTO THE LINING OF HIS COAT
AND PULLED OUT A WHITE CLOTH PACKET, WHICH HE UNWRAPPED
WITH EXCEEDING CARE. IN THE CENTER LAY A NAIL. HE HELD
IT UP IN THE PALE SUNLIGHT, SQUINTING AS HE STUDIED IT,
THEN RUBBED HARD AT A SPOT, POLISHING IT AS TENDERLY AS
THOUGH IT WERE A PRECIUS JEWEL. THE NAIL WAS CEREMONIOUSLY
DROPPED INTO THE POT, WHERE IT CLANKED AS IT HIT BOTTOM.
THEN HE TOOK A BATTERED SPOON AND STIRRED THE WATER
VIGOROUSLY, A SATISFIED SMILE ON HIS FACE. MYSTIFIED,
THOSE WHO HAD BEEN WATCHING THE STRANGE PROCEEDINGS MOVED
CLOSER. THE GYPSY TASTED THE BREW. THEN HE SMACKED HIS
LIPS.
"SAY, OLD MAN, WHAT ARE YOU COOKING? THERE'S NOTHING IN
THAT POT BUT A NAIL."
THE GYPSY LOOKED AT HIS QUESTIONER SYMPATHETICALLY. "THIS
IS A RARE SOUP," HE EXPLAINED. "ONE I PICKED UP IN MY
TRAVELS. WAIT UNTIL YOU HAVE TASTED IT. THERE'S NOTHING
LIKE SOUP FROM A NAIL," AND HE SIGHED BLISSFULLY. "IT NEEDS A LITTLE SALT." REACHING INTO A POCKET HE BROUGHT
FORTH TWO SMALL ROUND BOXES, ONE RED, ONE BLACK. "A
PINCH OF THIS, AND A COUPLE OF THESE PEPPERCORNS WILL
BRING OUT THE FLAVOR." HE STIRRED AGAIN.
PEOPLE LOOKED AT EACH OTHER BLANKLY. EITHER HE WAS SIMPLE
OR UP TO SOME TRICKERY, THEY WHISPERED AMONG THEMSELVES.
THE GYPSY STIRRED AGAIN AND TASTED.
"IF ONLY I HAD A TINY ONION." AT THE WISFULNESS IN HIS
VOICE, A YOUNG GIRL SHYLY HELD FORTH A BUNCH OF SMALL
GREEN ONIONS. "THANK YOU, MY DEAR," HE SAID AND SLICED
SEVERAL INTO THE POT, RETURNING THE REST WITH A BOW.
HIS EYES STRAYED FROM ONE STOPPING BASKET TO ANOTHER, LIGHTING
ON A BUNCH OF BRIGHT GREEN HERBS. "JUST A BIT OF THAT
PARSLEY WOULD BRING OUT THE FLAVOR. OF COURSE, IT
ISN'T REALLY NECESSARY."
THE GOOD WIFE STEPPED FORWARD AND BEGGED HIM TO TAKE IT
SAYING SHE COULD NEVER BEAR SOUP WITHOUT A BIT OF IT.
HE THANKED HER ALSO. "I STILL DON'T SEE HOW HE CAN DO IT,"
SAID ANOTHER, LEANING FROM HER STALL. AT THIS POINT THE
GYPSY ROSE, STRETCHED, AND STROLLED AROUND A BIT FROM
STALL TO STALL, PAUSING AT LAST BEFORE THE DOUBTER.
"MY, WHAT BEAUTIFUL LARGE POTATOES, AND SO FREE FROM
SPOTS! CAN'T TELL IF THEY ARE SOUND INSIDE THOUGH."
HEADS TURNED TO WATCH THIS LITTLE BYPLAY. "HOW DARE YOU,"
SHE GRABBED A KNIFE AND SLASHED OPEN ONE POTATO AFTER
ANOTHER. "SEE! HOW WHITE AND FIRM?" SHE THRUST THREE OR
FOUR CUT POTATOES INTO HIS HANDS. "NOW ARE YOU CONVINCED?"
"THANK YOU, MADAM. I AM." AND HE BOWED. HE LOOKED DOWN
THOUGHTFULLY AT THE CUT PIECES IN HIS BROWN HANDS. "SUCH
PERFECT POTATOES WOULD MAKE THIS NOT ONLY A GOOD SOUP BUT A
SUPERB SOUP," HE VENTURED. "YOU COULDN'T FIND BETTER,"
SHE ANNOUNCED WITH SATISFACTION. "AGAIN YOU ARE RIGHT,
MADAM." HE EDGED HIS WAY BACK THROUGH THE CROWD TO
THE FIRE. SEVERAL WERE SNIFFING THE DELICIOUS AROMA.
THE CURIOUS WERE PEERING INTO THE POT. THERE WAS
MUTTERING AND UNREST IN THE OTHER STALLS. "MY VEGE-
TABLES ARE JUST AS GOOD AS HERS," SNORTED A TALL, THIN
WOMAN. ARMED WITH A BUNCH OF CARROTS SHE PUSHED HER WAY
THROUGH THE CROWD AND FORCED THE GYPSY TO ACCEPT THEM.
PEOPLE WERE BEGINNING TO LOOK A BIT AMUSED AS A TURNIP
WAS PROFFERED NEXT, THEN A HEAD OF CABBAGE, A HANDFUL OF
PEAS, AND SO ON. ANYTHING BEYOND WHAT HE NEEDED AT THE
MOMENT, THE OLD GYPSY STUFFED INTO HIS BAG. IT SEEMED
THAT NO ONE WANTED TO BE LEFT OUT. THE AROMA BECAME MORE
AND MORE TANTALIZING. SUDDENLY THE CHURCH BELLS STRUCK
NOON, LEAVING THE GYPSY TO ENJOY HIS WELL-EARNED MEAL.
A FEW STRAGGLERS SAW HIM RETRIEVE THE NAIL, POLISH IT UP
CAREFULLY, AND GIVING IT A QUEER LITTLE SALUTE, STOW IT
AWAY AGAIN IN THE WHITE CLOTH BEFORE HE BEGAN TO EAT.

Submitter comment: SOURCE: CHRISTINE M. KOWALSKI, "NAIL SOUP," <
MAGAZINE>>, APRIL, 1964, VOL. 1, NO. 3, P. 48-49.
PUBLISHED SOURCE: CHRISTINE KOWALSKI, "NAIL SOUP", THE GOLDEN
MAGAZINE, APRIL, 1964, VOL. 1, NO. 3, P. 48-9.

Where learned: MICHIGAN ; DETROIT

Date learned: 08-00-1964