Healing Begins in the Pot: The Medicine of Everyday Stews
IThere’s something ancient that stirs in us when a pot of stew simmers on the stove.
The scent alone is grounding—like something familiar, something from childhood, something older than memory. Maybe that’s because it is. Long before supplements and superfoods, our ancestors were throwing roots, bones, herbs, and love into heavy pots and letting them whisper their way into healing.
This is the heart of kitchen alchemy—remembering that food is our first medicine.
Why Stews Heal
Stews are slow. And that’s part of the medicine. They ask us to be present. To layer. To wait. And in that waiting, magic happens—not just in the transformation of ingredients, but in our own nervous systems. Slowness heals.
From a nutritional standpoint, stews are incredibly powerful. They’re:
Easy to digest – everything is broken down slowly, giving your body a break.
Hydrating – broths, especially bone-based ones, support gut lining and immunity.
Nutrient-dense – you’re getting minerals from the broth, vitamins from the vegetables, and warmth from the inside out.
But beyond that? It’s comfort. It’s soul food in the truest sense.
What Goes Into a Healing Stew
The magic of stew is that there’s no one way to do it. But here are some ingredients I always keep close when I’m making a pot with intention:
Garlic – natural antibiotic and immune booster.
Onion – high in quercetin, anti-inflammatory and grounding.
Ginger – supports digestion and adds that fire we often lack when we’re run down.
Turmeric – anti-inflammatory, mood-boosting, and golden like the sun.
Carrots, sweet potatoes, or squash – root veggies that bring sweetness and a sense of being “rooted.”
Bone broth or vegetable broth – base of the potion.
Optional but lovely: lentils, herbs like thyme or rosemary, and a dash of apple cider vinegar to pull minerals from the veggies and bones.
My “Immune Root Stew” (no measurements, just intuition)
Sauté chopped onion and garlic in olive oil.
Add chunks of sweet potato and carrot. Sprinkle with turmeric, black pepper, and ginger.
Pour in your broth of choice and let it simmer.
Add lentils or shredded chicken if you like.
Let it cook low and slow. Add herbs near the end.
Serve warm, with a squeeze of lemon and fresh parsley or cilantro if desired.
Make it in silence. Or with a playlist. Stir in a prayer. Sip it under a blanket. Serve it to someone you love. Offer it to yourself like a ritual. This is how we reclaim the sacredness of our kitchens.
Final Thoughts
The truth is: healing doesn’t always come in big breakthroughs. Sometimes, it comes in a spoon. A bowl. A bite.
Sometimes, the greatest act of self-care is taking the time to feed yourself something that doesn’t come in a package.
Let your pot be your altar. Let the steam carry your intentions. And may your next meal be both your nourishment and your reminder: you already hold the medicine.
