Lemon Rice Soup & the Art of Starting Over

When the World Feels Heavy

Whenever life starts to wobble — plans unravel, emails pile up, dreams feel too big to fit in my hands — I make avgolemono, the Greek lemon rice soup that’s been my comfort food since childhood.

There was a small Greek restaurant in my hometown where the owner, an older woman with silver hair pulled into a bun, always had a pot simmering behind the counter. It smelled like warmth and welcome. Every bad day ended there, with her handing me a bowl and saying, “Eat, you’ll feel better.”

I didn’t know then that I was learning a ritual.

Years later, when I was in college — broke, tired, and trying to stitch together a future — I learned how to make it myself. The first version was simple: rice, eggs, lemon, and broth. These days, I use bone broth, extra lemon, a sprinkle of zest, and sometimes a handful of shredded chicken if I need something heartier.

Every pot feels like a small act of hope.

The Recipe (and the Reminder)

Avgolemono (Greek Lemon Rice Soup) Serves 2 — or one heart in need of healing.

• 4 cups bone broth (or vegetable broth)

• ½ cup rice

• 2 eggs

• Juice of one (or a few - I add extra because I love the tang) large lemon (add zest if you love extra brightness)

• Salt and pepper to taste

• Shredded chicken (optional, for comfort days)

• A drizzle of olive oil to finish

Bring the broth to a gentle simmer and cook the rice until tender.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs and lemon juice.

ladle some of the egg mixture slowly into the broth — one spoonful at a time. You want to stir it in and ensure the egg does not cook in chunks but mixes in the broth as liquid .The soup will magically turn creamy, tangy, and golden — like sunshine on a quiet afternoon.

Serve it warm with a little zest or cracked pepper on top.

Take a deep breath between bites.

This soup doesn’t rush you. It just sits with you until you can start again.

Starting Over (Again and Again)

I’ve started over more times than I can count — in cities, in jobs, in dreams that didn’t unfold the way I thought they would. Each new beginning has been messy, humbling, and strangely beautiful.

This soup taught me that rebuilding doesn’t have to look brave from the outside. Sometimes it just looks like stirring broth on a tired night, making something nourishing when you’d rather give up.

Starting over isn’t failure. It’s proof that you still believe in yourself enough to try again.

The Warmth We Share

Whenever I make avgolemono, I imagine that woman from the restaurant, still ladling bowls to whoever needs one. And I imagine you — maybe halfway across the world — standing over your own stove, tasting for salt, chasing the same comfort.

We may never meet, but somehow, through this recipe, we’ve already shared a table.

From my corner of the world,

Erika

💬 What’s your comfort recipe when life feels too heavy? Share it below or tag #EverybodyLovesEverybody — I’d love to see what nourishes you.