I treat soup like film study: situational, obsessive, occasionally excessive. This is the rotation that gets me through nor’easters, extra innings, and the weeks when every quad in the clinic decides to fail at once. Heavy on noodles, plenty of chowder, one malatang wildcard, and yes, a downtown hand‑pulled option for when Allston Christmas has destroyed your will to cook.[1] Bring layers. Bring Tupperware.