Chicken Soup and Rice
For some unknown reason none of our children would ever stoop so low as to eat chicken soup and rice with us of a Friday. After all, it was an integral part of the meal, but neither our oldest boy, our middle girl, our younger boy would eat chicken soup and rice. Without it there was ample for them to eat; roasted chicken, often also a tomato/green pepper dressing, potato pudding (oh, that's right; they would never eat potato pudding (potatonik) either, so for them it was roasted potatoes), augmented by a vegetable like cauliflower (which they also weren't thrilled with). I'd also bake my version of croissants, cheddar cheese laced, and that garnered a more enthusiastic reception. And never, ever, was dessert rejected; raisin pie, like a big buttertart being the favourite. Well, that's history. In a sense, for they're no longer young, no longer share Friday night meals with us. But when they do, it's the same old story.
So, lo and behold who has developed a downright fondness for chicken soup and rice? None other than our sole grandchild, that's who. On Friday afternoons, coming home from school she asks for chicken soup and rice. Oh, and Bub, would you mind sprinkling in some of that green stuff? Parsley, sure. Would you like it fresh from the garden? No, Bub, the dried stuff is good. One bowl will not suffice, having cleared away the first she enquires after a second, and guess who is delighted to comply? For her chicken soup I use the bowl that her Uncle Jody had made for her years ago, inscribed on the bottom with his initials, the date, and her name. She has many other pieces of the pottery he has made, even a wonderful teapot which I covet, sits in her bedroom, for her use at a later, much later time in her life.
Today, for example, take today. I'd done the food shopping and bought fresh raspberries for her. On the table I'd set out a small glass bowl of washed raspberries. I watched fascinated, as she had a brimful spoon of chicken soup, then she would delicately select a raspberry and have it - then another spoon of soup. Ugh, my god, but who am I to judge? "Mmmm", she murmurs in her inimitable way, "good"!.
All right, two bowls of chicken soup, the dish of raspberries. Then, what's next on the menu? This is one hungry after-school little girl. What kind of pie did I bake, she asks. Apple, it's an apple pie, would you like a piece? Well, of course, Bub. Why is it so red inside? Because, her Bub explained, a few tablespoons of the blackberry jam that her uncle had made last fall was stirred in with the apples. Nice colour, hey? Like some chocolate milk with that? The real stuff? I bought chocolate milk today. Well, yes, of course.
Little bottomless pit.
posted by Pieface @ Saturday, September 24, 2005
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