A memory.
10 years old.
Fifth
grade.
I would walk home the three blocks
from Roosevelt Elementary home and make
lunch for Dad who would drive home the five blocks from McVety Food Sales. Cold metal-gray Michigan February day. The routine was thus: I would make lunch, eat
my measure, and have his portion ready for him when he came in. Usually, and on this day, I would go upstairs
to my room while he ate.
On this day I made Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup. Something was off. There wasn’t enough. Didn’t make any sense and it tasted strange. I took a much smaller share in my bowl so
that there would be a regular size ration for Dad. I ate the curious soup and went
upstairs.
I heard him come in downstairs and move about the kitchen,
heard the ladle in the pot.
Some moments went by.
“Andrew? Did you put water in the soup?” Arose rough from the kitchen, bounced off the wall of the stairwell with it’s scorched
wallpaper from an younger Andrew’s futile arson attempt , and into my red white
and blue themed and paneled and bunk-bedded room with it’s marionettes, Budweiser
sheets, and corkboard.
The unmistakable, familiar mein of indictment in
the question from down the stairs.
I didn’t answer.
I figured the non-answer was the obvious answer.
Some moments went by.
“Well? Did you?” Anger, evident and unambiguous.
Flushed red fifth grader working on his report on the planet
Mars in his room, red from his non-answer not being understood, the non-watered condensed soup being
the answer in and of itself, and further from the non-recognition of the
sacrifice of his portion so the father would have enough.
“I forgot.” From above.
“Christ.” From below.
Tetchy sounds of water from the faucet added to the soup and
clanging of pot back on the stove. Sounds
of “as if this fucking day hadn’t been bad enough.”
A present.
I drive Duncan the seven blocks to school. Conversations about the heavy frost on the
white winter sun New Jersey January day.
“Jack did it.” Says
Duncan.
I drop him off at school.
Other parents and I forming a horizontal line behind the vertical lines of the
kids, waiting to see them swallowed up by the building. The bell rings, he goes, not without a wink
to me. Shaw and I walk back to the
car.
Later, at lunchtime, I make her an egg sandwich
although she’s mildly disappointed we don’t have mac and cheese. I heat the pan and melt butter over medium
heat. I crack the eggs on the side of
the skillet (apologies Jacque Pepin) I break the yolks, salt and pepper, when
they set, I flip. I add a little water
to the pan and cover so that the eggs steam a bit. I spread mayonnaise on the whole wheat
bread. I pull the less desirable leaves
off of the iceberg head and shred them.
Shaw watches from her stool. We
take the sandwiches to the table and eat lunch.
Afterwards, as I sweep breadcrumbs and errant frosted flakes
up on all fours under the table with hand broom and dust pan, she meets me
there and kisses my ear and whispers, “Dad, egg sandwiches are good.”
The Best Chicken Soup I Know
The secret is the gentle poach.
1 whole 3-4lbs
chicken
1 medium onion
cut into wedges
3 cloves
garlic smashed with flat side of knife
2 stalks
celery leaves and stems chopped
Stems and
roots from 1 bunch of cilantro
2 bay laurel
leaves (or 1 california bay leaf)
1 Tbs kosher
salt
2 carrots,
each cut into 2-3 large pieces
1 avocado
cilantro and
lime for serving
Put the
chicken in a stock pot just big enough to hold it. Scatter the onion, garlic,
celery, cilantro, bay leaves
and salt
around the chicken. Cover the chicken with water, put a lid on the pot, and
bring it to a boil over high
heat. Continue
boiling for 5 minutes. Then, turn off the heat, allowing the chicken to poach
in the water for
45 minutes
(don’t open the lid during this time).
When the
chicken is cooked, remove it from the stock and allow it to cool off enough to
touch. Remove and
discard the
skin, then strip the meat off the bones into bite size pieces. Cover the
chicken and refrigerate until
the soup is
done.
Return the
bones back into the stock pot along with any collected juices from the chicken.
Cover, and return
the soup to a
boil. When it boils, turn down the heat and simmer for 3 hours.
Strain the
stock through a fine mesh sieve and discard the solids. Skim off any excess oil
then add the soup
back to the
pot along with the carrots. Cook the carrots until tender and salt the soup to
taste.
To serve, put
down some chicken, carrots and avocado in a bowl. Pour the hot stock over
everything and
garnish with
cilantro and a wedge of lime.
Tortellini
Recipe
courtesy Alton Brown
Directions
In a bowl
combine all ingredients, except for the pasta and egg wash.
Using the
fresh pasta recipe, roll out your dough either by hand or by machine. Cut into
3 or 4- inch rounds with a round cookie cutter.
Place 1/4
teaspoon into the center of each round. Brush egg wash (on the bottom half of
the round and fold over to seal. Fold back
around your
finger and turn down the edge to form a tortellini.
In half a
gallon of rapidly boiling salted water add the tortellini in batches. Cook for
3 to 5 minutes, or until they float to the surface.
Remove to a
strainer to drain.
Fresh Pasta:
3 cups
all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons
water
1 teaspoon
olive oil
1/2 teaspoon
salt
