p>IF ANYONE DOUBTS the universal appeal of soup, I’d direct them to reach for the closest menu. As diverse as the restaurant scene in this country has become, one would still be hard-pressed to find a single restaurant that doesn’t reserve a little menu space for a cup or two of soup. Everybody, it seems, loves soup — and those who don’t are just plain weird.

The word “restaurant” actually means soup; at least it did in 18th-century France where soup was referred to as a “restorative beverage.” In time, “restaurant” came to signify any place where one could settle in for a nice hot bowl of restorative beverage. Two and a half centuries later, the palliative power of soup is so firmly rooted in our culinary consciousness, it’s almost unnatural to begin a meal without it.

Yet we all know that man can’t live by soup alone. And the notion of a restaurant serving nothing but soup sounds as ridiculous as one that serves none. Or so we thought.

When Matthew Moore, a seasoned chef, opened Souper Market a couple of years back, the reaction was nearly unanimous. “Just soup?” folks would ask whenever I mentioned the new spot. “How can you survive serving just soup?”

Moore has not only survived, he is poised to take his concept to the next level with a second Souper Market due to open in the coming months. His success is testament not only to the universal appeal of soup, but to the quality and variety of soup Moore sells.

Great soup begins with great stock, and giant cauldrons of the stuff can be seen bubbling away on the overtaxed stove. The moist, fragrant air condenses on the windows and envelops visitors the moment they enter the tiny soup house. A large handwritten menu lists eight seasonal soups plus two weekly soup specials. Sizes range from eight-ounce cups and 12-ounce bowls to 16-and 32-ounce multi-portions. Soups can be taken out or eaten in at a small stand-up counter overlooking Lorain Avenue.

Deciding which soup to sup is the hardest part; often I’ll order a cup each of two different brews. This technique has the added bonus of a second chunk of fabulously crusty bread (from Flying Fig) for dipping. If I had to pick a favorite, jambalaya ($3/cup) would likely lead the pack, though the lobster bisque ($3.25/cup) would be a very close second. The jambalaya is stew-thick and spicy. It is a dark and brooding mélange of chicken, andouille sausage and rice in a Creole-spiked broth. At the other end of the spectrum, the lobster bisque is a silky-smooth, decadent treat. The copper-color bisque is studded with delectable pieces of lobster and langostino meat.

My wife’s favorite, tomato-ginger ($2.50/cup), must be other people’s favorite as well; it never seems to leave the menu board. This rich, creamy tomato soup has a wonderful floral quality, thanks to generous amounts of fresh ginger. It’s probably good for you, too, which explains why it’s not my favorite.

There are so many mushroom nubbins in the chunky mushroom soup ($2.75/cup), one of at least three vegetarian offerings, that the light cream broth takes on the color of the forest floor. In this immensely comforting soup, Moore manages to extract every bit of earthy goodness from the ’shrooms.

Pulled chicken noodle ($2.75/cup), Souper Market’s version of chicken noodle soup, contains prodigious amounts of tender shredded chicken. With its noodles, celery, carrots and bits of tomato, it is exactly what we crave from a bowl of chicken soup. This, like all soups, is deftly seasoned.

What does Moore do in summer? He serves soup, of course. Good soup tastes as good in warm months as it does in cold. Certainly, lighter soups appear on the menu board, as do cold soups like seafood gazpacho, strawberry bisque and mixed melon.

Though Moore has taught us that we can indeed live on soup alone, he doesn’t force us to. From the start, assembled-to-order salads have always been on the menu. They feature made-from-scratch vinaigrettes and dressings that have become so popular, Souper Market has begun selling them by the pint. The Caesar ($4.25) dressing is thick and redolent of anchovies.

The Souper Market also happens to sell fantastic crab cakes ($7), nearly five inches across and loaded with lump and shredded crabmeat. Sautéed in butter until brown and crisp, the patties are served with either garlic or Tabasco aioli. Huge potato pancakes ($4.50) are also on the big board and worth sampling. They are sided by fantastic horseradish cream sauce.

But who really goes to a soup house for the crab and potato cakes? As long as Moore and his pals continue ladling out the restorative beverage, I’ll be there to lap it up.