When we moved into a Queen Anne in the Haight Ashbury of San Francisco, my mother would make the most delicious soup ever. We had it every night for weeks on end.
Note: I wish I could get my kids to enjoy soup every night
Looking back as the mature adult I am, I realize that the soup was an inexpensive meal to make. My parents had just bought a house larger than life and my mother made soup to make up the difference.
Vegetable soup, chicken soup, cabbage soup – all a delight.
As they worked on the house, my mother had the kitchen designed for a left-handed person, herself. It was a gorgeous kitchen – the cabinet pulls, were brass fittings that came from the windows of a school that had been recently demolished.
Soups turned to more lavish meals of Mexican dishes, Asian dishes, “American” dishes but that soup – it still resonates with me. Healthy and healing – exuding her love and warmth.