Introduction:
Sometimes, closure doesn’t come when we expect it. For me, it came wrapped in the steam of a simple bowl of soup — her recipe, her words, and her final gift. My mother and I hadn’t spoken for years. The day she left this world, she left behind only a handwritten note and a list of ingredients. Her goodbye came too late, but as I stirred the pot and followed her quiet instructions, her final words echoed in every flavor: “Forgive yourself. Feed your heart.”
This isn’t just a recipe — it’s a memory reborn, a way to find peace through the warmth of something shared.
Ingredients:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 medium carrots, diced
2 celery stalks, chopped
1 cup cooked shredded chicken (or chickpeas for a vegetarian version)
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1 cup small pasta or rice
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 bay leaf
Salt and pepper, to taste
A handful of fresh parsley, chopped
A squeeze of lemon juice (her secret ingredient)
Instructions:
Warm the base of memory: In a large pot, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add onion and garlic, sautéing until fragrant — about 3 minutes.
Add the color of comfort: Stir in carrots and celery, cooking until they soften slightly.
Build the body: Add chicken (or chickpeas), broth, pasta, thyme, and the bay leaf. Bring to a gentle boil, then lower to a simmer.
Simmer and reflect: Let the soup cook for 15–20 minutes, stirring occasionally. As it simmers, breathe deeply — let the aromas remind you of home, of warmth, of forgiveness.
Finish with light: Remove the bay leaf, season with salt and pepper, and stir in parsley and lemon juice. That final squeeze is what makes it hers — bright, healing, unexpected.
Serving and Storage Tips:
Serve warm, with crusty bread or over a quiet evening.
Store leftovers in a sealed container for up to 4 days. The flavors deepen overnight — just like the lessons we learn too late.
Reheat gently on the stove; avoid boiling to preserve the texture and memory.
Variations:
