Everyone has a dish their mom or dad makes that they absolutely love. (One of) mine is my mom’s homemade potato soup. I think it takes her hours to make. I know it involves homemade stock. And I know that I tried it once and it was nothing like my mom’s (in part because I did not take the time to make homemade stock). She recently came to visit and, with her, brought a glass jar full of soup and, subsequently, full of memories of home. I’m not the best cook. But I hope there’s something I someday make, consistently, that Sophie grows to love. And I hope to someday visit her with that something in a glass jar or in some Tupperware or on a plate covered in foil. And I hope that with each bite it will be more than something that tastes good—it will be something that tastes of home. And then, I hope she’ll smile—because of good memories in addition to good taste.
“Soup is the song of the hearth … and the home.” —Louis P. De Gouy
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