You know what's great about chicken soup?
You take that ugly pile of carcasses from your freezer and old veggies from your refrigerator and throw the big mess in a pot.
Yet somehow, through the magic of cooking, in the end you are rewarded with the fact that you turned all that ugliness into a beautiful bowl of soup.
Yes, that's a matzo ball. Yes, I made matzo balls three months after Passover ended. I'm the (dis)Order Cook. I am the Meshugge Shiksa. Don't expect anything I do to make any sense. Making sense is the antithesis of my blog (and my life).
There actually was a good reason to make this. The hubby was in a horse show on Sunday and during the competition, his horse suddenly spooked. She reared up a bit and hit him in the chin with her neck. He got a nasty bruise on his chin and his jaw is rather sore. Chewing is a bit painful. Chicken soup with soft noodles and matzo balls is just what the doctor ordered.
I got the ultimate compliment from him after he ate it. "Grandma would be proud." Nothing like hearing a nice Jewish boy telling you his bubbe would approve.