English was a second language for my Mother. She was more “at home” speaking Yiddish than English. So at times her pronunciation of words morphed into another word. Minestrone Soup became Minnesota Soup. It wasn’t a big deal since her three young ones were fluent in “Clara-speak.”
Minnesota soup was a special treat served up on extra dark wintry nights. It was Mom’s version of kosher comfort food. The main ingredient was a few packages of Manischewitz Minestrone soup mix. The other components were a “bisl” (Yiddish for “a little”) onion, potato, celery and maybe a carrot If there was one handy. To this mixture she would sprinkle the quartet of Central European spices - salt, pepper, paprika and garlic, all in bland moderation. An added bonus might be a challah bread with gobs of greasy margarine slathered on the shiny slices. It was one of our favorite meals.
Mom wasn’t a Jewish version of Julia Child. For every Minnesota Soup dinner there were too-many fish sticks and frozen Green Giant boil-in-a-bag creamed corn meals. We forgave her. We were scoring lots of attention, affection and hugs. That’s plenty of nourishment.
Lately I’ve been craving kosher comfort food. But first I had to find a supermarket with a kosher foods section. The Rabbi blessed items usually cover a distance one step wide. If I drank too much coffee I would stride right by it. That’s where I’ll find the key ingredient to Minnesota Soup. Manischewitz Minestrone Soup Mix. It’s impossible to have one without the other. Fortunately, Snobsdale, AZ contains enough “Unfrozen Chosen” to warrant a kosher foods section at Safeway.
Once I have the main ingredient, the rest comes easy. I’m not religious about following Mom’s exact recipe. I’ve taken a few liberties. There’s heaps more vegetables including (OY!) red peppers, green chili peppers, mushrooms and red chili powder in my blend. All the contents eventually end up in a Dutch Oven. Then I’ll let it all stew in its own juices for about eight hours.
When it’s done I’ll pop an IPA and microwave a tortilla. The savory soup’s warmth comforts me. But what really makes me wag my invisible tail, is how I reconnect with my Mom.
I think about all the positive traits she passed onto me. Such as:
Start all conversations with a smile.
If given the choice between a handshake or a hug, go for the hug.
Always offer food/drink or both to all who cross your doorway. (This includes plumbers and painters and other hardworking strangers).
Pick up a book in your downtime.
Be civil. Mind your manners. It’s OK to say you are sorry.
Draw back the curtains to allow the sun to shine in.
It’s better to be a nurturer than a schnorrer. (Yiddish for taker).
Lastly, she taught me how to make Minnesota Soup so I could remember her fondly.
Thanks Mom for making me a better person.
Cheers!
Happy 2020 too.
Jeff
I appreciate your appreciating your mom. I loved mine deep and long, but it took her final years (and my having become a widow) to re-find the joy I felt in her company as a little girl. As we had both become more vulnerable -- she in her growing debilitation and dependence, me in my heartache, we became more real, more open, and more grateful.
ReplyDeleteI love your photos of your mother and father -- especially the "Just Married" one. The world then seemed simpler, less cluttered with the gidgets and gadgets of our technicolor times. Thanks for sharing.
This is such a heartwarming tribute to your mother. Not only was she beautiful, she sounds as though she was incredibly kind, smart, nurturing and full of love for her sons. One of these days, I'm going to make Tex-Mex Minnesota soup and sip to your mom.
ReplyDeleteMy mom used that soup mix too!
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