As heatwaves grip cities around the world, a counterintuitive culinary tradition persists: consuming hot soup in sweltering weather. From Mumbai to New York, Hanoi to Brooklyn, diners continue to seek out steaming bowls of broth despite soaring temperatures.

In Mumbai, office workers gather around street vendors serving paya, a slowly simmered goat trotters soup, while in Hanoi, locals often slurp hot pho at midday. This practice is mirrored in diverse cultures across South and Southeast Asia, the Caribbean, parts of Africa, and the Middle East.

Nhu Ton, chef-owner of Bánh Vietnamese Shop House on New York City’s Upper West Side and Bánh Anh Em in the East Village, says hot soup remains a staple at her restaurants year-round. Born and raised in Central Vietnam, where seasonal variations are limited to rainy and hot periods, she sees consistent demand even during summer. This year, she has prepared multiple large batches of bún riêu and bún bò huế every weekend due to unusual popularity for the season. Ton notes that her kitchen staff often questions why patrons consume so much soup despite the heat.

Anthropologists and nutrition experts suggest that this custom is rooted in traditional wellness concepts emphasizing bodily balance. Hanna Garth, an anthropologist who has studied Cuban food culture, explains that in several cultures, consuming hot foods during hot weather aligns with ancient understandings of how warmth influences the body. Both Ayurveda and traditional Chinese medicine advocate for hot meals, arguing that they activate the body’s cooling mechanisms—primarily sweating—and stimulate thirst, which promotes hydration.

A comparable practice exists in Korea, where "Wi yeol chi yeol," or “fight fire with fire,” guides the consumption of samgye-tang, a hot chicken soup served during the hottest days of the lunar calendar. Koreans believe the dish replenishes nutrients and harmonizes internal temperature with the external heat.

Scientific studies appear to support this reasoning. Josica Josos, a dietitian from Dunedin, cites a 2012 University of Ottawa study suggesting that consuming hot foods triggers physiological responses such as sweating, which helps cool the body.

For many, hot liquids offer psychological comfort as well. Genevieve Yam, a senior editor who grew up in Hong Kong, recalls the constant presence of hot water in her household, describing it as feeling like “a warm hug,” while cold drinks can feel jarring. Similarly, people from multicultural backgrounds describe hot soup as a daily ritual and source of solace, regardless of season.

Some culinary practitioners attribute additional significance to the balance of flavors and temperatures within a meal. Food stylist Tru Buser, who grew up in Vietnam, notes that light broths, even when served hot, are considered cooling and often paired with cold desserts or fruits to maintain equilibrium.

Chef Eric Sze, owner of 886 in Manhattan’s East Village and Warren in Brooklyn, recalls fond memories of late-night markets in Taiwan where eating hot oyster noodles amid humid conditions was a communal joy. Although his meat-based soup sales dip by half in summer at his restaurants, removing hot soups from menus has met with customer resistance, particularly during the pandemic.

Across continents and cuisines, the enduring preference for hot soup amidst heatwaves reflects a complex interplay of cultural heritage, wellness beliefs, and sensory experience that transcends conventional ideas about cooling down.