Sunday, September 25, 2011


An ash falls...
uneaten soup.


ELizabeth Baran-Bouladian said...

My mother used to smoke while cooking. Sometimes the ashes fell into the stuffing mix or in the stew. She scooped the ashes with a spoon and continued cooking. Whatever mother made was delicious. Once, during the war, we only had potatoes, tomatoes and corn oil at hand. Mother made a dish with these three ingredients in addition to some dried herbs and spices. It was excellent despite the smoking.
Elizabeth Baran-Bouladian

Southern Muse said...

I find that to be a beautiful and touching memory of your mother. The trend of modern society is to disparage families, as if they must somehow be perfect, as if any little flaw makes their existence unjustified, nullifies the love that is there; but we know that that is not true. The flaws are part of the spice that makes for a good broth.