July 19th, 2006

Bruce, Caroline

The Soup that is a Meal

Take your basic, run-of-the-mill dead chicken. Mmmmmm. Chop it up. Perfect, tantalizing. Mush it up. This gets better and better. Make it into an unrecognizable broth-like liquid. Now we're talking fun. Add an assorted assortment of assorted herbs and spices, sort of, and you've got ... my mom's homemade chicken noodle soup. Oh yeah, you'll want to add the noodles too. Noodle soup without the noodles is kind of like ... kind of like ... oh, I dunno, something wonderful without something essential to its wonderfulness. So where was I? Oh yeah, my mom's homemade chicken noodle soup ... the noodle soup which, as mentioned earlier, has noodles in it. Did I mention that? I'm sure I did. To not have mentioned it would be, well, unmentionable.

One thing everyone who's gotten the opportunity to eat this stuff agrees on is that it's delicious. Even during the dark ages, viz., the months when I was engaged, one thing my fiancée actually agreed with me on was that my mom's chicken noodle soup was, get ready for this, souperb.

Amid a host of Christmas dinner traditions - turkey, goose, slop (if you happened to attend my college and had to stay there during the Christmas holidays), gourmet eating (if you're in prison and being funded by the taxpayer) - our Christmas dinner tradition stand out as being particularly tough to explain to the uninitiated masses. This tradition? You guessed it, Mom's homemade chicken noodle soup. It was the first meal that Tammy, my ex-fiancée, had with my family, and after one bite, all she said was, "Bruce, I understand now."

Yes, the stuff's special, no doubt about it. It's a treat, even more wondrous to consume than those homemade French [Freedom] Fries I mentioned in my previous entry. I'm sure that the chickens that have given up their lives for this wonderful soup through the years are even now looking down from that big chicken coup in the sky, smiles of approval gracing their beaks, and clucking out their gratitude to my mom for allowing them to be a part of such a delicious tradition. Yes, they would be proud chickens indeed. And not only proud, but tastey, too.
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Bruce, Caroline

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