Chicken Soup

While my dad is the chef of the family the earliest memory I have is making chicken noodle soup and bread with my mom. I think they were the same day but now it's a bit foggy.  When we were talking about this one day she almost cried she was that happy. I found it a little weird but oh well. I have no idea how it came up but it did.

I also made her promise not to tell my dad.

In the memory I'm very little. Little enough to have to stand on a chair to just see onto the counter but tall enough to crack my head on the corner of it. This made the every thing seem gigantic to me. The yellow plastic bowl wasalmost as big as I remebered but the color was far brighter. This was the bowl that we made the bread in.

With the soup I mostly just remember looking over the edge of the pot while my mom stirred it. The pot that we made the soup in? It is so teeny tiny that I almost think it's a different pot. Abit we have since acquired a truly huge pot that we can boil several lobsters at once.

Needless me and my mom haven't done much cooking since. The last time I can remember was when I was heating up a crepe. That ended up with me getting a mild bun from the frying pan and her smashing a plate on the counter.