Soup and Memories
How Cold Nights and Homemade Soup Bring Back Family Memories: A Salute to Matza Balls
I only want to eat soup on cold days
It is a cold, wintery day in Southeast Texas. A rare occasion on the Gulf Coast.
As I lay in bed, all I can think about is how to warm my soul for the next few days.
The answer didn’t take long to materialize—coffee in the morning and bowls of homemade matza ball soup in the evening.
Matza ball soup is a delicacy from my childhood. An heirloom recipe passed down through the generations. It is a taste so comforting that only my imagination can surpass it.
Closing my eyes, I envisioned my early days, sitting next to my grandfather at a holiday feast. The first course was always chicken soup with matza balls.
The soup is a salty concoction of slowly simmered chicken broth, with the addition of baseball-sized matza balls, surrounded by a bit of pasta and shredded chicken. It is a taste so soothing the soup alone is a meal in itself.
I remember my grandfather was intolerant of bland, salty soups. He always added a tablespoon of red horseradish to his bowl, which would make his eyes tear up and his forehead turn red. It made us kids laugh.
