Our Family’s Comfort
Food
It is
very seldom that the subject of the old fashioned foods I ate as a
little girl is broached. For
this
reason, I have chosen to remember on paper the delicious memories I
have of my dear mother’s
own
version of vegetable soup!
When
I was growing up in Omaha milk arrived at our doorstep in bottles
with a top that held the
cream.
There was a paper tab at the top; when that was removed the cream was
poured into a glass
cream
pitcher and used with coffee. When Mom left the cream at the top and
shook the bottle, I knew
that
something wonderful was going to happen in our tiny kitchen!
I was
a finicky eater. Many of the foods that appeared on our table were
not to my liking but after I
suggested
we send it to the ‘starving children in China’ I was well advised
just to eat the food without
opining.
I needed no encouragement for my mom’s soups!
In my
mind’s eye, there is Mom, wearing a butcher’s apron. That
flowered model covered the bodice
of her
house dress as well as the skirt and there was a perfect bow at her
back. She would stand at the
kitchen
table with her paring knife, peeling and chopping the vegetables that
would go into her soup
pot:
Carrots, onions, potatoes. She washed them with great love. She
carefully cut them with love -
and her
trusty paring knife.
When
I grew up and recreated this family fave I wondered why she had no
chef’s knife and
why she
took so long in making this simple, satisfying meal. I now know that
it was A/because she
loved
my dad and me and B/she adored that soup, too!
She
boiled a pot of salted water as she prepared the veg. She often
hummed or sang as she worked.
The
brightly colored carrots went into the salty water first. It was fun
to see the steam rising and
hear
the hiss as cold met hot. Next came the chunks of potatoes and the
bits of onion. The aroma
of that
little Omaha kitchen felt much like a hug as they simmered on the
stove. When my great
grandma’s
meat fork went into tender carrot pieces, the vegetables were deemed
to be done. That’s
when
Mom would drain the liquid into the sink, creating another cloud of
steam! It was magical for
the three year old who was no doubt underfoot! The pot went back to the Roper gas range. Mom
the three year old who was no doubt underfoot! The pot went back to the Roper gas range. Mom
added
that creamy milk the Robert’s Dairy man had left on our front
porch. She used enough to cover
the
cooked goods PLUS enough to cook the macaroni that came next. I
remember watching her put
spoonfuls
of corn starch into a bowl I wish still had. It was a white bowl
with thin red stripes and a
red
band a.round the top sporting white polka dots.
When
the milk was hot enough and the macaroni was soft enough, Mom stirred
the corn starch into
that
soup kettle to thicken the soup JUST SO! My mouth would water with
anticipation! Then came
the
seasoning: salt was sprinkled into the pot from the small measuring
spoon that rested in the ‘salt
dish’.
Pepper was shaken from the square green shaker that matched my
grandma’s set, displayed on
the
stove.
It
was a treat for me to help set the table. The soup bowls we used
were from the “good” set. These
were
flat soup plates and we used them because the soup was easier to eat
that way. Mom always
liked to have a dinner plate underneath in case of spills. In those days, crackers came in square sheets
of four perforated individual crackers. Oyster crackers were a rare treat.
liked to have a dinner plate underneath in case of spills. In those days, crackers came in square sheets
of four perforated individual crackers. Oyster crackers were a rare treat.
The
spoons we used for this meal were the same spoons I now wear as
jewelry! My #1 daughter took
Mom’s flatware to a silversmith and they’ve been fashioned into bracelets,
necklaces and rings for
every one of Mom’s great granddaughters.
every one of Mom’s great granddaughters.
When
Mom was no longer able to live alone she came to join our household.
I was grateful to have
her
with us. One day when I came home from work to have lunch, Mom
surprised me with a bowl
of her
“famous” Our Favorite Vegetable Soup.
It
was the last time she ever cooked for me.
~Connie Baum
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The FTC wants you to know there might be links on this page. Should they be clicked, resulting in sales, your humble blogger would be fairly compensated. Please do your due diligence when conducting affairs online or offline. Always do business with those you trust implicitly.
Dear Blogger, Why does this post have such funky spacing? The original copy was all neat and nifty.
ReplyDeleteOh, well. The message is there for the reader. Never mind...*audible sigh...
~Mother Connie