Quite literally.
This weekend I got a hold of my Grandma Susie's chicken soup recipe. Lola and I picked out all the ingredients - the usual (carrots, chicken) and the not-so-usual (parsnips, very specific brands of seasoning salt). Grandma was an amazing cook, and she took so much pleasure in feeding us all well. She would regularly send me home after the holidays with tupperware full of soup, matzah balls, brisket, and kugel. She would have loved knowing that I was attempting to make her chicken soup, and I would have loved calling her a thousand times during the day to ask every trivial question about how much a "dash" really was and was it ok to use 4 chicken thighs instead of 6.
And here's the kicker. I bought matzah ball mix and was all ready to make my own matzah balls, but way in the back of the freezer, in a small ziplock bag - were a handful of matzah balls that Grandma sent me home with after our last family holiday together. I had forgotten that they were even back there. I cried as I defrosted them. I cried as I ladled the first cup of broth into my bowl. And I wept as I tasted it, realizing that it turned out exactly like hers. It was the perfect medication for Ben's cold (which, by the way, she would have blamed me for giving to him.) and a wonderful and beautiful reminder of how special she was.
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3 comments:
Who is NOT crying after reading that? I'm so proud of you and your culinary skills. You must take after your aunts.
I loved this post. I also want the recipe. Thanks Lauren - anyone who has ever cooked for someone they loved hopes to have this kind of impact.
this is a beautiful tribute.
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