Sunday, April 6, 2008

Scrumptious Sunday - soup

april 6 2008

Theme for Scrumptious Sunday


There are so many souprecipes on internet, that I won't bore you with mine.

But I'll share the precious memories I have.

The best taste of soup I have is of the soup my grandmother made.

I loved to watch her.

When I was a bit older often we went to buy the ingredients at the shops nearby at saturday morning after my training for the swimmingcompetitions.
She carefully placed the vegetables in the basket and when we came home she took a large apron, got a large kitchenknife and a large souppan.

She was used to making large quantities, like I now. She had 7 children.

First we put the meat in the water, and then we went to the livingroom to have tea and bread.
My uncle would walk in and have a talk. Or we would listen to the radio, or talk about school, a book, or something else.

After returning to the kitchen we sliced the vegetables. Often she taught me songs, and we used to sing them for all to hear.

With only a small light under the pan the smell of soup would slowly fill the kitchen and drift in waves through the house.

It was always such a pity to leave for home, where my mother just threw in the meat and sliced vegetables like in a trashcan, put on the heat high untill everything boiled.
Even when the ingredients were the same the soup tasted different.

Every sunday morning when I was at highschool, my dad and I went to mass at school.
Afterwards we went to gram to have coffee and enjoy the quiet before aunts and uncles dropped in.
Sometimes we all sang songs accompanied by my uncle on the guitar.

Once in a while one of the neighbours came asking to open the gardendoors, so they could hear us.
It was all so relaxed.
My grandmother was able to make every person to feel at home, except for my mother.
She was always commenting and criticising, and finally stayed away.

It made the house of my gram even feel more as my home.

I knew that when she slipped away it was almost time, so I followed her to the kitchen and put all the soupplates at a row, all the spoons ready, and the bottle with spices.
Again she would put on the apron and tell me to take one too.

Damp swirled in the air, the smell was awesome, and the colours intense.
Aunts came in the kitchen, bringing the plates in the room.
And we all enjoyed the soup.

Even when I grew up I loved to come on sundaymorning and I wouldn't leave before I had soup.
The mornings were more quiet then, with only dad and me to tell gram we still loved her cooking.

The soupplates became special mugs, and gram became wrinkled and little.
But the soup stayed.

And each time my soup smells like hers I know it's her soul passing by and smiling, because she made the best soup a human being can ever make.

Want to take part too?
Go to Mercedes.



  1. What beautiful memories! The simple things are the best, aren't they?

    For your daily dose of vintage goodness & a bit of silliness, stop by Confessions of an Apron Queen, the home of Vintage Thingies Thursdays.

  2. I love this. i also have wonderful memories of my grandmother making the "world's best soup".

  3. What wonderful memories - and how fortunate you are to have had those relationships. Thanks so much for sharing them, Laane. This was a lovely and peaceful way for me to end my day.

  4. You have some really great memories of your grandmother in the kitchen! Aaaaahhhhh I feel the warmth of her kitchen right now. *sniff*! Thanks so much for playing and I am so sorry it took me so long to get over here! Hope to see you this Sunday!


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