Memory is the Best Sauce

After my observation yesterday, I drove over to see my aunt, since I was in the neighborhood (sort of). School started early over there, and so I was taking off my shoes and sitting down at her kitchen table by eleven. "I'm heating up turkey soup for lunch," she told me. 

"Does it have tomatoes and rice?" I asked, remembering how my mom used to make hers after Thanksgiving.

"Of course!" my aunt laughed. "How did you know?"

I can't say I loved my mother's turkey soup when I was a kid; there was something about the combination of bony broth, tiny shreds of turkey, chunky tomatoes, and frozen mixed vegetables that put me off. And as she'll tell you herself, my aunt is not known for her cooking.

But that soup? Was delicious.