Eating a perfect caldo on a hot day is the culinary equivalent of swimming in Scrooge McDuck’s vault.
It’s rich. It’s tender. And it’s all mine, damn it.
Maybe that’s just me. Maybe it’s because when I close my eyes to dream of the perfect soup, I’m always nine years old sitting in a tiny yellow house in Paramount eating caldo de papa while DuckTales makes me forget about the beating I took that day at school. And the caldo’s incredible colors, heat, and flavors gave me the same satisfaction this old cartoon billionaire got from swimming in a sea of gold.
The irony is that broths were traditionally seen as peasant food. Instead of eating six courses on a dais while people yell “The King in The North” or whatever it is rich people do, us hoi polloi took tough proteins like tripe or beef shank and added a cacophony of vegetables and spices all into a pot of water. By slowly cooking the seemingly dissonant ingredients, you’d get something beautiful and bountiful.
Today, caldos are still an affordable way to feed large numbers of people. That’s why birria is served at quinceñeras and bodas instead of prime rib or the chicken plate.
Executed just right, a caldo can feed your family all week long and actually get better the longer it lasts.