Chicken noodle soup

I love this essay that Tori wrote for one of her college classes. It goes to show that you never what little moments in life will touch your children and create lifelong memories. I love the feelings and emotion she expressed. Reading it took me back to that time as well and I can remember it vividly, although my experience was a little different than hers. Nevertheless, it is sweet to read and understand her feelings. Very nice essay capturing a childhood memory. Love it!

Tori Trent

ENGL 2010-13

Dr. Julie Simon

24 Jan. 2014

Chicken (uncooked)

Peas or corn (optional)

While the water is boiling the uncooked chicken make the noodles.

Basic Noodles for 2 people:

1 egg

2 Tablespoons milk

¼ teaspoon salt

1 Cup flour

Whisk first 3 ingredients then stir in flour. Roll on floured surface until 1/4^th of an inch. Cut with a knife or pizza cutter into strips. Take out chicken and drop noodle strips one by one into the rapidly boiling water. Add flour to thicken or can of cream of chicken soup. Cut up chicken and add to soup when noodles are done (about 15 minutes). Before serving you can add frozen peas or canned corn (drained). Add salt or garlic salt to taste.

My Grandma's Chicken Noodle Soup

I see tall trees lining the Tennessee forests outside, peaking through the window of my grandmother's kitchen. My grandmother instructs her grandchildren, telling them to mix flour, eggs, salt, and milk into a medium sized bowl. I drum my hands into the sticky mixing mess. My sister and cousins all take turns mixing the items into a doughy ball. Once the dough is mixed, my grandmother tells us to cover the table top with flour and hands us a wooden rolling pin. I watch as the ball of dough takes a flat and thin shape across the table. We scrape the remains of the dough from our hands when the dough is flattened. My grandmother demonstrates how to cut the dough into thin strips, explaining that the strips will become noodles. I mimic my grandmother's demonstration as I concentrate on cutting the dough into precise, proportional noodle-like shapes. As we continue to take turns cutting the dough, my grandmother drops pieces of chicken into a large pot of hot water. She informs us that she is making the broth.

When the dough is fully cut, Grandma instructs us to carefully take each strip of dough and place them into the pot of boiling water. We each eagerly take several strips of dough and dump them into the boiling chicken mixture. “Careful, we don't want the noodles to stick together”, Grandma warns. Correcting our previous behavior, we carefully avoid clumping as we place the dough strips into the pot, one after the other.

Peering down into the boiling cauldron, the strips of dough become puffy and expand as they cook. They begin to take the form of noodles as they are violently turned from the current of the bubbling potion. I start to smell the savory steam, escaping from the brew.

Now all we have to do is wait. Family from all over the country is here, casual conversation takes place and smiles fill the room. People share their latest news about their lives as the aroma of the soup increases in the room and continues until it fills the entire house. My excitement increases and my patience is tested the longer time passes. Finally Grandma grabs a fork and catches a floating noodle in the pot. She tastes the noodle and announces that the soup is finished. Finally! Our hard work and our efforts will be paid with the delicious taste and texture of Grandma's chicken noodle soup.

Family trickle into the kitchen as the conversations quiet. People gather around the large pot with bowls ready. Grandma asks my father to bless the food and everyone instinctively folds their arms, closes their eyes, and bows their heads. My father's voice rises above the silence as he thanks his father in heaven for family, the time we have to share, and the food. As a chorus of amen follow his own, people excitedly pick up their spoons and start to devour. I sink my teeth into a combination of broth and noodle while concentrating on the soft, chewy, uneven texture.

I take several more bites before I raise my head to take in the view. I see my family surrounding the my grandmother's table to share this delicious meal. Emotion rushes over me, feeling grateful for the rare opportunity to see my extended family sharing this moment. This soup may be simple, but it has complex feeling hidden in it's savory taste. The Trent family is made up of many, many people. I have aunts, uncles and cousins that grew up in Tennessee but since then they have spread through the states, making it rare and difficult to see them together. Seeing, smelling, and tasting this soup reminds me of my heritage, past memories of family gatherings, and most of all, my grandma.

It is a rarity when I get to see my grandmother in her own kitchen. I take joy in the remembrance of past visits to grandmother's home and having the uncommon opportunity to taste her meaningful chicken noodle soup. The sight of family gathered around the table talking and laughing and consuming the soup floods my being, bringing a satisfied smile to my face.