Comfort Food

I’ve not written anything since my first post – but have been thinking about this particular topic for the past week or so. The event that brought this topic to mind was a simple gesture made by my sister. She had made a huge batch of soup and offered the remainder to our family. This was not just any soup. This was Grandpa’s Soup. Also known throughout our extended family as goulash, paprikash, The Soup. A simple recipe – chicken on the bone, potatoes, onions and Grandpa’s homegrown hot peppers - all simmered to perfection in varying amounts of paprika and cayenne pepper. Served over Kluski noodles or homemade dumplings, or both! Spicy as the cook dares to make it. Newcomers to Grandpa’s table were often provided with a box of tissues and plenty of water.  Years of spices and hot peppers from his garden had increased his tolerance.  Often the bite would reach new levels!  It was like a rite of passage for a seat at the family’s table.  And, no matter their taste preferences, each one came to love it! 

Grandpa would start cooking early in the day.  The same pot, the same wooden spoon.  The aroma of simmering onions often in the air soon after breakfast.  He would watch the pot carefully and we would all stay back – mouths watering,  anticipating the feast.  Sometimes, if I lingered long enough, he would ask me to taste the broth and let him know if it needed a little more “kick”.  I am quite certain he did not need my opinion, but was just simply entertained by watching me grimace as the first drops of spicy broth hit my throat.  I would always say “good soup, Grandpa!”  Sometimes the number of guests for the meal would increase.  Most of us in our own kitchens (in this generation of having plenty), would run to the store.  We would add more meat and potatoes to make sure there would be enough.   But not Grandpa.  Being from a generation that often didn’t have much, he would just add water in order to stretch the pot to accomodate the additional guests.  

The Soup is more than just a filling meal for me. It is a comfort food – full of warmth, memories, and connection to family. Each member of the family that makes it, does it well – though it is never quite the same as having it in Grandpa’s kitchen. Grandpa passed away in December. That kitchen is no longer in the family, but the recipe lives on into the next three generations. My sister’s offering was the first time I had eaten The Soup since then. It brought to mind memories of family and tradition. Comfort food at its best!

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