{Chicken Noodles}

It's funny how memories can be tied to foods. When I was little I used to spend days over at my grandparents house making peanut butter cookies with my grandmother, and ever since, the smell and taste and making of those cookies reminds me of her. Of course, so do a lot of foods, particularly chicken noodle soup.

It's one of those comfort foods in our family that has been passed down and is made when we feel sick, or in need some soothing. Made from scratch it takes a couple of hours, and is a routine and familiar process. It's taken me years to try to perfect the noodles, sometimes too tough, too thick, to fuzzy ( Ask Jeff about the first time I tried to make them for him...hardy har), but regardless of the imperfections it always tastes of home, familiarity, and my grandmother.

So, yesterday, the day began with starting the broth, chopping the vegetables, and boiling the chicken. by the late afternoon I had a stockpot full of fresh noodles and a fragrant soup ready to be consumed.
In a strange land, it's a comfort to be able to have days like this where we can cook like we're at home, to have friends over and enjoy company, eating familiar foods, enjoying a banana split, feeling safe and secure and quelling any home sickness accumulated over the day.

More importantly, I enjoy paying homage to my grandmother in my cooking. I miss her, I miss Sunday dinners with family, and while everything is changing, shifting, and evolving in my life, sometimes it just a relief to have a moment of remembrance and comfort.
My noodles, were -almost- perfect, this time.

-Ashley