We all know that if you are a Jewish and from the New York area, your grandmother makes or made that elixir that cures any sickness that may come your way whether it be the flu, a cold, a bad day at work or any sickness of the heart. It’s her chicken Matza ball soup and just thinking about it makes you feel better. However, I am a Cajun and grew up in Southwestern Louisiana. My grandmother never remarried after my grandfather died, raised 8 children, lived and ran a large Louisiana rice farm. The thing that gave me comfort when I was feeling bad, physical or emotional, was my grandmother’s chicken and sausage gumbo. Made from scratch (she would go get a chicken fresh from the yard), so hot that it made you sweat and that feeling as it went down told you that whatever it was making you feel bad would go away and everything would be OK. So here is the question…What is your “Chicken Soup”…in three parts?
• What is your story? Self describe yourself…(i.e. Cajun, NY Jew, Irish, Italian, Mexican, Catholic, Southern Baptist, etc.)
• What food is it that cures whatever hurts you, physical or emotional? Why or what is it that you like most.
• Who is that person that you most associate with it.
I would love to hear from many and the stories that may be associated with their Chicken Soup memories.
My mother used good old fashioned Campbell's chicken noodle soup....I was rather sickly so I had it alot. I enjoyed peanut butter sandwich with it...for some reason the different tastes worked.
With my current wife...and my mother in law...who only makes things fresh came along I changed a bit.
Now we use a whole chicken, a small onion, salt and pepper, jalapenos ...and the BAY LEAF (gotta watch Slav life on you tube)
SOOOO much better!
Brooklyn born Jew here, I had two very traditional Jewish grandmothers, from whom I learned to synthesize Jewish penicillin.
That reminds me, I'm overdue for a batch. I'll do it some time within the next week or so, and I'll post the process, along with suitable photos, here.
ArtieS can attest to the quality of this stuff, that was my contribution to the fantastic Christmas / Chanukah dinner that he hosted at Rancho Artie, a year ago.
|Muzzle flash |
Unless we had had chicken recently (and mom made her own soup), Campbell's chicken noodle was what we ate. For just a sick stomach, the cure was warm Vernor's Ginger Ale.
Background: my parents were from southern Missouri (dad) and northern Arkansas (mom). Mom's parents were German-Dutch and hearty soups were normal. (She made killer chili, too, but my Texan friends wouldn't think so--she used Kidney Beans in it.)
Texan by choice, not accident of birth
Oh Boy''' "Jewish Penicilen".... cures all that ailes you.. Now the good old standard "campbells chicken noodle" is hard to beat. But being from south Louisiana I am partial to a good seafood gumbo w/oysters. YUM YUM YUM ........... drill sgt.
|Age Quod Agis|
Its the stuff V-Tail makes.
"I will fight until Hell freezes over and then fight on the ice."
Captain William Mattingly at the Battle of Bulltown, West Virginia 1863
I have nothing that fits the category, but if I'm feeling like crap. Double Cheeseburger and small fries from McDonald's. I don't like McDonald's, but if I'm sick/nauseous it's one thing oddly I can eat.
Sic Semper Tyrannis
|Drill Here, Drill Now|
I"m half English half German. Both sides Protestant.
It's not a food, but my maternal grandmother's cure-all was calamine lotion (I have no idea if this was her own idea or if it was passed down). Preferably, the brand name Caladryl was used and it was called "pink medicine." If anything happened to your skin (insect bite, Pimple, etc) then pink medicine was promptly and judiciously applied. Grandma passed pink medicine onto my Mom and 2 aunts so they applied it to my generation. It's actually pretty effective at drawing out pimples and quickly reducing soreness. Doesn't work worth well on much else.
The worst story was my grandmother applied to my red head, fair skinned aunt's sunburn since as it dries it shrinks and pulls the skin. We laugh now, but my aunt says that it was a pretty painful and made the sunburn worse not better.
Basically, pink medicine was my family's version of Windex in Big Fat Greek Wedding.
Ego is the anesthesia that deadens the pain of stupidity
DISCLAIMER: These are the author's own personal views and do not represent the views of the author's employer.
Keith they better not have oysters in my seafood gumbo I just picked up at Don's.
And no, junior not being able to hold still for 5 seconds is not a disability.
Being French,Polish and German background the woozy stomach fix was bay leaf tea with a touch of honey, Comfort food was chicken soup with veggies and potatoes...
3/4 Irish 1/4 Slovak here. Mother was born in Belfast.
The ultimate comfort food for us was my Grandmother's and now my mothers "Fart Soup". It has the same curing properties and comforting memories as chicken noodle. I have no idea how to make it, but have been threatening to learn for awhile. My wife has damn near banned it from our house.
Just like the chicken noodle soup, fart soup is a two day process of boiling bones and carcasses to create a broth, allowing the fat to congeal and removing it. Fart soup contains lentils, marrow peas, carrots, and plenty of dulce. (seaweed).
Canned goods were rarely used in our house growing up, to the degree that my mother would make fun of my friend's American mothers, calling them "microwave mommas". To this day she makes soups like it's 1812.
I speak jive.
Homemade Gumbo, of the chicken and sausage variety.
I would gladly trade a jar of garlic Claussen whole pickles for the recipe LOL even toss in a order of hot bialys
For fart soup or the above-mentioned gumbo?
Small-town Mississippi Presbyterian here. My fondest food memory was a bacon and tomato sandwich with Miracle Whip on whole-wheat. Dad grew Gulf State Market 'maters. Slice 'em thick & stand over the kitchen sink. Takes me back, yessir!
Drift: Certain smells from my youth will transport me back in time.
|A teetotaling |
That whole "no beans in Texas Chili" is IMO a preference. I know a lot of born and raised Texans that put beans in their chili. Some will say don't call it authentic Texas chili... okay, call it what you want, but if you like beans in there, put them in there. We make our chili w/o beans but cook a pot of beans on the side for those that like them, and my wife also likes some elbow macaroni in hers (calls it chili mac). It's food going into your mouth, so have it how you like it and don't worry about the purist.
As far as chicken soup, growing up we had a lot of caned stuff as none in my family were particularly fond of chicken soup enough to go through the trouble of making a huge pot of the stuff.This message has been edited. Last edited by: NavyGuy,
Men fight for liberty and win it with hard knocks. Their children, brought up easy, let it slip away again, poor fools. And their grandchildren are once more slaves.
|Aller Anfang ist schwer|
Half English Half German. The sick soup was German and called markklösschen. Every once in a while I'll make it and have found memories of Mom.
Recipe that looks right:
My Italian Grandmother never made chicken soup & I did not know my English grandmother . My Armenian/Jewish/Russian wife Makes wonderful chicken soup with legs or wings left with the skin on. She says Skinless/Boneless/Tasteless chicken is for Russian paupers.
If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit!
Sigs Owned - A Bunch
|Not as lean, not as mean,|
Still a Marine
Primarily Scotch/Irish here, but my father's family resides in PA Dutch country. Their version of "chicken pot pie" is not a creamy dish baked in a pie crust, but the pie dough is boiled in the soup (verses a traditional noodle).
It's used as an elixir, family feast dish, cold weather warm up... and it does the job perfectly!
I shall respect you until you open your mouth, from that point on, you must earn it yourself.
Grandma's chicken soup is just that: chicken soup. Noodles. From a can. She always insisted. It's not so good, these days. Rancid, and likely toxic. But then she's dead, so we don't touch it any more.
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