A few months after I married, I decided to make chicken soup. I poured over my recipe books but none of the recipes evoked the smell and taste of my grandmother’s chicken soup. So, there was only one thing to do. I called my Babcia (Polish for grandmother).
“Babcia, how do I make chicken soup?” I asked (this conversation occurred in Yiddish).
“Well,” she said, “How big is your pot?” I replied, “Bigger than yours.” Babcia countered with, “Hmmm, put in the chicken, cover it with water and lots of vegetables because you like vegetables in the soup and it will be delicious!” And then I heard the phone call disconnect. Although the call was much less helpful than I had anticipated, Babcia had never steered me wrong when it came to cooking, so I decided to follow her instructions.
I took my 8-quart stock…
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