Stephanie started us out this round with the fun story of Cook's Choice at her elementary school, and as usual, we were able to wander far and wide. To wrap up this round, I'm returning to lunch.At W. R. Manz Elementary School, nobody ate lunch at school. At 12:00 we all put on our coats and walked home. And every day in the winter, cook's choice and my choice were the same–a bowl of soup and a sandwich.
My mom was the cook who would make the sandwich and heat up the soup, but my dad was the cook who made the soup. Anytime we had chicken, turkey, or ham, Dad would put all the bones in a pot and make a soup stock. Beyond that, he didn't do much cooking, but a strong memory of my childhood is the smell of fresh soup. After he had added noodles and vegetables and seasonings and let the soup cook and cool, he would ladle it into jars.
One of my favorite parts of the day is still lunch. I often give myself a task such as a certain number of pages to write or a project to complete. And then I have my lunch and listen to the radio. And since I'm the cook now and I'm choosing, one of my favorite things to have is soup.
4 comments:
Amazing how deep and significant that bowl of soup is--full of such nourishing memories for you, and now also functioning as a marker in your day. What a nice memory of your dad. Wish I could crash your lunch.
Soup's on, Christy. You're welcome to fly in.
I can't wait to see your new book.
I'm hungry.
John,
A bowl of soup, a slice of fresh bread, and a good book to read--the best lunch in the world. Enjoy your soup!
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