Daddy-Daughter Love Story Explained Through Soup
By. Sara Lichterman
There is nothing like waking up in the morning to that sensational aroma. Fresh chicken boiling on the stove, ripe vegetables being sliced to brilliance, and the smell of Rigatoni pasta softening to perfection. Dad is making his famous chicken noodle soup. I automatically think to myself… Is someone sick? Did I forget about a holiday?
I don’t think a person could get out of bed any faster. As I walk into the kitchen, there’s my dad… smiling with the utmost joy of his favorite daughter waking up to her favorite soup. There is no holiday, and thank goodness no one is sick, it is just my dad being my dad. He’s making the soup to see the happiness illuminate from his daughter’s eyes… and stomach.
He knows how much I love the taste of his homemade chicken broth mixed with shredded chicken, carrots, celery, pearl onions, Rigatoni pasta, and a dash of salt and pepper. The thought of eating it makes my day a thousand times better. One bite of this soup could change the way you think about food.
But… with great happiness comes great sadness. The one thing I forgot to mention is it takes all day in the crock-pot to cook.
That’s six whole hours of not tasting this delicious masterpiece.
Six whole hours of walking by the kitchen tempted to steal a bite. Six hours of madness. Five hours… Four hours… Three… Two… One more hour… of torture. This is the longest hour. The hour that makes me regret loving this soup. That makes me regret enjoying the first warm bite go down my throat filling my stomach with joy.
This soup is not just chicken noodle soup. This is my dad’s chicken noodle soup. As the time roles around to eat, I am first in line. My dad fills my bowl to the rim, knowing that there’s no other way to serve me this soup. I sit down, wait for everyone to sit around the table, and take my very first bite… and guess what? The wait is ALWAYS worth it.