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I have been cooking a lot of soup. It is cold in New York. I bought a wonderful slow cooker, and beautiful new red pot...and I cook soup. While I stand stirring, with my long wooden spoon, I remembered a generational story about my great Aunt Dora, my grandmother's sister. She was the roundest, noisiest, best cook in the family. Her apartment always exploded with cousins, confusion and laughter. Dora was in the kitchen, cooking, giving orders to the other women. I loved to visit this house. I would see my cousins,and eat great food. Being an only child, I loved the mischief and fun we had there.
The best of the dishes was Aunt Dora's thick and spicy vegetable soup. It was made in a giant pot, because people were always dropping by. You could smell the soup down the hall, probably in the elevator as well. My cousins and I were sent to the bedrooms to play and told STAY OUT OF THE KITCHEN. We would try to sneak back into the kitchen to steal food. My Aunt would wave the wooden spoon and swat the closest child, while screaming in several languages.
The game was - how to sneak into the kitchen. The problem - how to get the adults out of the kitchen? A plot was hatched...the game afoot. The youngest cousin Mark, started to scream and cry help. The adults dropped everything and ran into the bedroom to save Mark. Success... we were in the kitchen. Sharon the gutsy cousin climbed on a chair and tried to stir the soup with the big wooden spoon. As the woman returned with Mark, Sharon dropped the spoon in the pot, and she watched it sink to the bottom.
Clearly the soup ate the spoon. We all ate the soup that night. We had too. Were we eating wood? I did not enjoy the soup much that night. Nothing was ever mentioned about the missing wooden spoon/ or the dangerous spoon eating soup. Fifty plus years later I am the Grammy, I hope my grandchildren will love my soups. Spoon soup anyone?