The chicken soup is simmering on my stove, and my house fills with the fragrances of earthy dill, perky carrots, and mellow parsnips. Scented with memories, my house smells like the house of my mother, and of her mother, and of her mother's mother. We Jewish mothers understand that cooking is not about the recipe or the presentation. It's about the people. As the individual flavors meld to one wonderful medley, I think about those who will share this meal, the wonderful medley of friends. Food brings us together, so we toil and labor in the kitchen to prepare massive feasts. The food keeps friends and family around the table, talking, laughing. What better meal than chicken soup with matzo balls? It's been called the soul food of the Hebrew brotha' and sistah', the Jewish penicillin. It is a fact that it can cure the common cold and ward off the onset of at least a dozen deadly diseases. Cooking today and thinking about the friends who will share this meal, I add some special ingredients: my hopes that this will help us to relax, my wishes for lasting good health and happiness. Besides, if the food doesn't fix all that ails us, the company will.
“You are what I never knew I always wanted”
12 years ago
3 comments:
What anticipation...knowing that I will be one of the ones to taste that soup. I can only imagine how good it smells cooking.
I look forward to lots of laughter, as always.
Now this is more like it - more posts about food and less about running LOL...
Wish I could be there just to get a whiff!
Good Shabbos from NorCal
Whenever I throw in some onions and garlic in a frying pan, that's the smell that transports me back to my mother's kitchen. She cooks everything starting with those two things, including fried eggs. Which would explain why I was never sick in elementary school.
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