LeLet's rewind to Thanksgiving (or Day of Sadness as my Native American relatives refer to it):
Thanksgiving is horrible for every law student in America. It's the last week of regular classes, and law schools have torturously decided to have final exams begin the week immediately following. It is also the time in the semester where your scholarship and loan funds have nearly run out. Much of November is spent explaining to friends and relatives why you will not be able to visit. You are too poor to go home, and will instead spend the weekend eating whatever you can scrounge in your pantry while studying Evidence for twelve hours a day.
That is what I should have been doing. Instead, my stubborn then-boyfriend, David, decided not only was he flying in to visit me, he was flying in at noon on Thanksgiving day. Great timing for him. This meant I had to shop the weekend prior to the holiday so I could create the feast that he would be expecting. I also had to spend over $200 of my quickly depleting $400 remaining in my bank account.
As finals closed in and I prepared to head out on my holiday road trip, I had $40 left in my account. Luckily I sold a textbook on Amazon and scored $98. I also borrowed a car from a friend who would be gone over break. I would be able to visit home and the then-boyfriend who had at that time moved to Atlanta.
I searched every cell that remained in my brain for ideas of something wonderful, but inexpensive that I could bestow on all of my loved ones. Bones. I save bones when I cook. And, I just happened to have a few t-bones and a Thanksgiving turkey carcass in my freezer. My good friend Howie mentioned that he had just devoured a whole ham and would save the bone from it for me. I headed out to Tampa with an idea: soup. I would make an awesome soup.
My first stop in Tampa was Howie's place in South Tampa. We hit Publix for veggies, and he helped me create the ultimate "Holidaze" soup while we sipped rum and enjoyed the city's perfect weather. We jarred the soups and let them rest before the big day.
Christmas was fun. My jars of soup were a big hit. But then, it happened. My Grandmother started getting confused. She could not quite explain what was wrong. The words would not come out of her mouth. Something was wrong and we could tell she was very frightened. A group of us took her to the hospital, where we learned that she might be suffering a stroke. Not my Grandmother. No. She had spent 86 years in perfect health. The hospital kept her for three days to run tests and keep an eye on her. It turned out that she did suffer a mini-stroke, but she would be okay. No paralysis.
The day we were permitted to bring Granny home from the hospital also happened to be my Grandfather's 87th birthday. We had a family get together and celebrated just how lucky we are. I decided instead of heading to Atlanta first thing the next morning, I would spend the day cooking meals for my grandparents so they could freeze them and easily reheat them. Granny needed to rest, and not worry about household chores for a few days.
And then it happened. David decided to call me at 10:37pm that evening as I lay in bed reading. He decided that I should not travel to Atlanta. He was dumping me. Almost five years together, and I get dumped by a 42 year-old man because he didn't feel like he occupied the number one spot in my life's "importance list." That, and women in Atlanta were "throwing themselves [at him]", and his ability to remain faithful had diminished. Devastating.
I spent two weeks having a pity party, but was then jolted back into reality by law school and my new internship. My internship is incredible. My classes are intellectual. And, my friends are loving and caring. Granny is doing very well; my uncle and her walked a half-mile recently. And, then I noticed the jar of soup that was meant for David sitting in my fridge. It's time to eat this soup and be done with the terrible winter break.
And then, Chinese New year passed by and something funny happened on the way to class. I was invited out by a handsome classmate. Not only is he a former Israeli Army soldier, he is ten years my junior. Eek.
One night he cooked for me. Even making me a pumpkin pie. Very endearing. And, now he is teaching me to make matzo ball soup. I do not believe I have ever even tasted matzo ball soup before. I am very excited about what the new year will bring. Bring on Valentine's Day. This is the year of the Dragon, and just happened to be a dragon. Roar!
Holidaze Soup
(named by Howard Cannon)
1 Turkey carcass
1 Ham bone
2 T-Bone bones
1 medium sweet onion
1 whole garlic, the whole thing; peeled
1 bag of baby carrots
1 Potato, diced
1 head of celery; including leaves
4 Bay leaves
Salt, pepper, and paprika to taste and smell
Add everything except spices to a large pot. Cover with water. Add spices. Bring to a boil. Lower to a simmer and cook for approximately 6 hours. Taste every hour, and add water and spices as needed. You will know by the incredible smell when it is ready. Turn off the heat and allow to cool. Use a slotted spoon to remove all bones.
I jarred the soup following directions on a box of Ball jars. It you don't heat the jars to seal and preserve, the soup can be refrigerated for about a week.
- photo by Sarah Gim
- Matzo Ball Soup
Matzo Ball Soup
By Mr. N's mother
1/2c matzah meal
2 eggs
2 tbsp schmaltz (melted chicken fat) or oil
2 quarts of thin chicken broth (I made the chicken broth by placing a rotisserie chicken carcass, water, mirepoix, bay leaves. I allowed the broth to cook on high for four hours in the crock pot.)
carrots
celery
Beat the eggs and oil. Add the matzah meal, mix to an even consistency. Let this sit for 5-15 minutes. Bring the broth to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Add the vegetables to the broth. Wet your hands and make balls of about 1-2tbsp. of the batter. Gently drop the balls into the broth. They will be cooked enough to eat in about fifteen minutes. However, Nachmann leaves them in longer to absorb more of the broth flavor. You will know the balls are cooked when they float to the top and look bloated.
