gyzym: (Blueberries!)
Okay, let's set the scene: it's a grey, rainy spring day in Cleveland, Ohio, and I am fourteen years old. My mother and I are arguing about how many usable Haggadahs we have (many of them are old and ripped to shit); my father is in the next room on his cell phone, and Burro and Burrito are upstairs doing god knows what. We're about six hours away from the descent of my extended family, who are coming over for Passover Seder.

My father hangs up the phone, walks into the dining room with an ashen face, and the following conversation (well, more or less; while the whole thing was extremely memorable, IT WAS A LONG TIME AGO) ensues.

My Father: Oh, god, that was my mother.
My Mother: What'd she want? Oh, tell me she's not coming, that would be great--
My Father: She ruined the soup.
My Mother: WHAT?
My Father: She said she fermented it--how can you ferment matzo ball soup, what does that even mean--
My Mother: Oh my god, oh my god, what do we do? Can we go to the deli and pick up enough soup for--oh, no, for like 40 people, the day of seder, oh, we're so fucked--
My Father: We could always ask my sister to make it.
Everyone: *Makes the face of horror generally associated with my aunt's cooking*
My Father: Okay, nevermind. You're just going to have to make it.
My Mother: I can't make it, I'm making like six other dishes, when do you think I'm going to have time to--I'm not even very good at it, it's your mother's thing, she had one thing to do--
My Father: She's old!
My Mother: Well obviously she's--
Me: Guys. Calm down. I will make the soup.
My Parents, Together: Sorry, WHAT?


There was some doubt expressed. There were some general rumblings of "But you're 14 and watching people make chicken soup is not the same as having made it yourself and OH GOD I CALLED THE DELI AND THEY ARE OUT OF SOUP I GUESS THIS IS OUR ONLY OPTION." There was a screaming fight between me and my father in the produce section of Giant Eagle--remind me to tell you guys the other Giant Eagle Passover story sometime--because he was convinced you made chicken soup with a red onion, which, no. The point is, six hours later my family sat down and ate my first-ever batch of matzo ball soup, and no one else has made it since.

It's snowing in Cleveland today, because the city went "OH SHIT IT'S ALMOST THE END OF MARCH, WHAT IF THESE PEOPLE FORGET WHERE THEY LIVE, BETTER PELT THEM WITH UNFORTUNATE WEATHER." And, because I feel like making chicken soup but can't be fucked to go to the store, I am posting the recipe (in, er, my typical rambling fashion) for you guys. I told you that story to make you understand when I tell you this: this soup breaks some typical cooking rules. There are some things that I'm going to tell you to do that are going to make you go, BUT I SHOULD DO IT THIS WAY or BUT THAT IS CHEATING. It is fine for you to feel that way; it is fine for you to make this soup however you see fit! But, for the love of god, don't try to tell me to do it differently. This recipe is my baby, my precious, my one and only, and the only thing I am inclined towards being particularly egotistical about, because I have in on the authority of everyone I know (family, friends, college roommates, the groups of people with whom I was only vaguely acquainted who used to flock to my college best friend's house in droves when they found out I was making it) that it is the best chicken soup ever. I have made it at least 10 times a year since I was 14, and my mother made her version before me, and my grandmother made her version before her, and IF YOU KNOCK IT, I WILL CUT YOU.

I am mostly kidding, but seriously, you guys: MY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS RECIPE AND THE SOUP IT PRODUCES ARE NOT RATIONAL. Like, I just...I cannot even explain the degree to which I Am A Jewish Woman And This Is My Chicken Soup Recipe And Damn Right It's Better Than Yours is a thing in my family, but it is, and this is. So read and enjoy and go into it knowing that I will accept concrit on anything at all except this, okay? Okay.

Fucking Delicious Chicken Soup )
gyzym: (Blueberries!)
I know what you are all thinking right now. You are all thinking, "Hmmm, I wonder why I am at such a low level of irritation tonight!" PROBABLY IT IS BECAUSE I HAVE NOT BEEN AROUND TO POST A MILLION AND FIVE THINGS. Alas for you, I am here now, and will probably post again tonight because there is something wrong with me, I'm sorry, it's terrible, I know.

BUT. Okay, so, everyone and their brother was making cookies today--seriously, my entire twitterfeed was making cookies, what is happening, IS IT NATIONAL COOKIE DAY, WHERE WAS MY MEMO--but I am not everyone, and my brother wanted stew. And I thought to myself as I was making the stew, "Hey, self, it is widely agreed by assorted members of your family that this is the second-best thing you make, and since you have all kinds of weird BUT IT'S FAMILY ennui about posting your chicken soup secrets, perhaps you should share this with the class instead." So here I am. Sharing.

Some things this recipe is not: vegetarian friendly, even remotely Kosher, good for you. Seriously, like, augh, this is not Paula Deen bad for you, but it is definitely Ina Garten bad for you. I don't generally spend much time thinking about calories/fat content/whatever--which is possibly because my 13-year-old self was like FUCK SCALES, FUCK MAGAZINES, I WILL EAT LESS IF MY PANTS GET TOO TIGHT AND MORE IF THEY GET TOO LOOSE, OBSESSING ABOUT MY WEIGHT IS STUPID and I never stopped living that way--but I do generally try to stick to eating food that is good for my body, because eating well is great for mental health. This is not that kind of food. At all. BE WARNED.

Some general notes:

a) I am allergic to dairy; anywhere I say "butter," I actually used margarine. I say butter because you should probably use butter, I hear it's better.

b) Unless I'm baking I don't cook with measurements; my philosophy in the kitchen is largely either "I will read this recipe once and shop/cook based on what I vaguely remember" or, more often, "HERE'S A BUNCH OF THINGS, LALALALA, INTO THE POT THEY GO." This is my recipe, so I can't even point you guys to a version of it with measurements and tell you where to tweak. SORRY GUYS.

c) I wrote this in a conversational, cooking-for-complete-morons format so I can send it to Burro and his frat brothers. I know many of you guys know what "rendering bacon" means, but trust me, Burro and the bros do not. I AM NOT TALKING DOWN TO YOU; I AM TALKING DOWN TO MY BROTHER. Mostly I didn't want to have to write this out twice.

d) Much like that urban legend about the test that you should read over first because the last question is something like "Write your name on top of the page and turn in the test entirely blank for full credit," you should...read this through...before you cook this. Because I am not good at linear thought and this is basically just my average rambling, but about making stew.

OKAY. FORWARD MARCH.

Beef Stew, The Way Burro Likes It: A Recipe, Sort of, And Many Cautionary Tales )

Profile

gyzym: (Default)
gyzym

April 2020

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
19 202122232425
2627282930  

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 8th, 2025 05:17 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios