Matzah Ball Soup

Whenever I smell the warm aroma of chicken and matzah balls, I feel an immediate sense of comfort. I’m taken back to my early years of straight across bangs, pigtails, and an empty belly. It’s either a holiday or I am recovering from being sick. Matzah ball soup is more than a flavor. It’s a sense of comfort. The warm broth soothes me as I can feel its steam cast a blanket over my face. Before I take my first sip my heart skips a beat of excitement. My impatience for the broth to cool down is unbearable. I can’t help but wonder if this is how my relatives felt when they’d eat matzah ball soup hundreds of years ago. I’m sure they would occasionally burn their tongues on the steaming hot balls too! They also would probably try to break off a piece of a carrot before it slips away from the spoon, just like me. Yes, matzah may symbolize the unleavened bread the Jews ate while fleeing Egypt, but today it’s become more than a part of biblical history. It’s become a tradition. I don’t know a single Jew who hasn’t experienced what I experience. I’ve had matzah ball soup in Israel, Poland, Italy, Cleveland, and Arizona. Wherever I eat it, I immediately feel a connection to where I am. I feel safe and overjoyed. I sit crossing my fingers that the soup will have a dense cluster of noodles. Whenever I smell the warm aroma of matzah ball soup, my mouth begins to water. I imagine the carrots, the celery, the potato, all popping out from beneath the broth. When I write about matzah ball soup, however, I feel disheartened. Why am I writing when I can be eating?!