I next visit the Italian grocer who gives me the freshest soup greens to flavor my soup. I congratulate him on his newborn son and look at pictures.
At dinner time, there is chicken soup and stories to serve my family.
Friday Flash Fiction |
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FOOD Chicken soup starts with the kosher butcher who provides the hefty fowl he has saved “just for you, Madam.” He sees me looking at the black numbers tattooed on his wrist, and tells me of seeing his parents for the last time before they sent him on the kindertransport to London during World War II.
I next visit the Italian grocer who gives me the freshest soup greens to flavor my soup. I congratulate him on his newborn son and look at pictures. At dinner time, there is chicken soup and stories to serve my family.
Peggy Gerber
2/3/2021 07:45:34 pm
This brings back memories of my grandmother going to the butcher to pick out a fresh chicken. I buy my chicken frozen so there are fewer stories. Still delicious though. I follow my grandmother’s recipe of not measuring anything.
Sandra James
2/3/2021 10:11:55 pm
So much more personal than the supermarket. It brought back lovely memories of shopping with my Mum and Nan when I was young.
Sue Clayton
3/3/2021 04:50:54 am
You can't beat a friendly corner store and the anecdotes that go with them.
CLARE GOLDFARB
4/3/2021 02:44:34 pm
Thank you for your comments! Yes, I had a mother (and grandmother) who left no recipes, "just add a pinch"--but they did leave memories. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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