Zuppa De Hot Dog
My favorite soup is hot dog soup. To everyone else, this sounds very unappealing, and I agree, it does sound that way. But, until you try it, you can’t talk about it. My Italian grandma came up with the recipe long ago because she said she liked soup and she liked hotdogs so why not throw the two together?
So picture a tiny, 4-foot-11 Italian lady balancing against the counter above the creaky floorboards of her second-story apartment concocting this contraption that would turn out to be one of my favorite foods in the world. My dad’s don’t-ask-questions mentality was the reason he was always deemed the taste-tester, and surprisingly his mother was a much better cook than his Noni, who would serve my dad cans of condensed soup, without adding any water, during his lunch breaks in grammar school. He didn’t mind it much because he wasn’t picky and he liked to eat. So Dad watched Grandma toss the hot dogs into the water with the noodles and give a carefree shrug and tilt of the head that said, “Can’t be that bad.”
It wasn’t. I remember taking thermoses of hot dog soup with me to middle school lunches. All my friends would move to the other side of the table.
They never tried the soup, regrettably for them. They didn’t know they regretted it at the time and they probably still don’t. But, somehow they always slid back down next to me when I tore open the gushers.
No gushers for them.
But back to the soup. This soup is usually made beside my dad. Ever since adopting it from grandma, he has carried on the tradition back in my hometown in Massachusetts. It has now evolved into a dad-daughter tradition. So whenever my mom is out of town, Dad and I break out the small, water-stained index card with the recipe scrawled out in tiny, red, cursive strokes.
This delicacy is made on the stovetop, not from a can. After boiling a pan of water, you drop in a cup of egg-noodles. This happens to be another reason people are so quick to judge the soup is because they think eggs are in it. There are no eggs haphazardly tossed into this soup. Just noodles named after eggs because they are made of unleavened dough, egg and wheat. But, that’s an aside for another day.
Once the noodles are in they should be watched with a keen eye to make sure they don’t pass the al-dente stage. You don’t want soggy noodles or else the whole essence of the soup is taken. This soup is hearty: it’s the warmth in a rain storm and the reward at the end of a hard day. It is not a bowl of soggy, this-is-easy-and-all-I-have-so-I’ll-eat-it soup like the cans of tasteless chicken noodle in the pantry. This soup is not to be treated as a smorgasbord of whatever is in the pantry, although that is partially how it was created, nor should it be tainted with the same lazy hand that picks apart leftovers. You should be thankful to eat this soup.
While the noodles boil, you’ll need to heat up a pot of chicken broth next to the pasta. My dad usually chops up about three hot dogs in slices, then tosses them in with the chicken broth and lets them simmer together. Once everything is hot and ready to go, the water is drained from the pasta and the pasta is mixed in with the broth and the hot dogs. Finally, Parmesan is sprinkled on the top and voila, you’re ready to go! Vegetables like carrots are optional but not encouraged because it messes with the naturally delicious flavor of the broth. So that’s it, hot dog soup. From my grandma’s small, 4-by-4 apartment kitchen to yours. If you haven’t moved to the other side of the table by now, then not only have you earned yourself a bowl of soup, but also you’re my true friend.
For dessert, we eat gushers.
#vicario #soupstory
