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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I can still smell Mom's homemade soup on the stove, she always had a pot simmering for us kids to welcome us home; it was made in this huge soup pot which I inherited, old, and dinged but it is one of my favorite possessions. She did not invent the recipe for this homemade soup, it was passed down from her mom, and her mom; not a complicated soup, the ingredients simple to obtain, but it had a secret ingredient called love that made it special. Comforting on a cold Canadian day after playing in the snow, or skating on the pond or having a snow fight with my brothers; or after walking home from school I knew the soup was waiting, I helped my mom making it sometimes, I was the perfect dicer. It is an easy soup but has a lot of vegetables to dice up small, like onions, celery, carrots, there could be other vegetables too; but Mom kept it simple for us kids, we added four litres of broth, Mom made her own chicken broth (I buy mine) that simmers a bit. Next we added two cans of crushed tomatoes, stir, stir it up, after a bit we added rice, how much, well you be the judge mom said; and simmer, until all the vegetables, and rice are cooked and blended, she also added some herbs like basil, salt and pepper, and that's it. I guess the most important thing about the soup is the memory, of mom in the kitchen with her stained apron humming away; she was happiest when she was cooking for her family, I am blessed to have these memories to keep close to my heart. Memories of mom making homemade Tomato Rice Vegetable Soup, in that big pot and stirring in the love maybe that is why it was good; we would eat it with big hunks of buttered French Canadian bread, delicious, a tasty soup, a lovely memory of a gone away time.
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