Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Potato Soup: unwrapped

It's cooler now, autumn has arrived and I embrace the shift in seasons with with a pot of soup in my arms.

Not any soup, though ~ the perfect soup, the comfort soup, the creamiest, butteriest, and quite possibly yummiest of all soups.

Potato soup.

And this evening, as I sit peeling, my baby belly busting and music softly humming, I think of my mom who prepared this same recipe while I grew.

It never failed to please.

Served with toasted garlic bread and shredded cheddar cheese, her potato soup tastes like a family gathered around an oak table, spoons in hand, chatting, laughing, living.

I slice the onion, add the water, garlic, and salt and set it all to boil. A tub full of potatoes steams soon and so I add the butter and sour cream.

This night I'm years and miles away from the oak table. None of my sisters or I live in the same city. My parents, retired, eat low-carb, so potato soup rarely makes the menu.

And here am I, hot bowl in hand, unwrapping the gift of memory and belonging and living.

tuesdays unwrapped at cats


la femme elisabeth said...

ahhh...Ava's FAVORITE!!!!

jo said...

hmmmm hmmmm

Jingle said...


Jingle said...

Welcome To link in a poem to our potluck today, thanks a ton!

linking in an old poem would be cool too.

Jennifer @ Studio JRU said...

I love how simple things like potato soup can bring such beautiful wonderful memories. It looks SO good too! :)

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