Opening the lid of my slow cooker this morning, I had an unexpected experience.
The smell wafting up from the remains of a turkey breast pulled me out of my modern kitchen and dropped me into my childhood’s scullery.
The kitchen of my tender years was huge and high-ceilinged. If you included the large pantry, you could fit several kitchens of today into this 1906 cooking room.
In those days, turkey was always and only for Thanksgiving and Christmas. The modern cuisinier now can cook as little or as much of the flavorful bird as he or she chooses, any time of the year. Specific parts can be procured. But back in my day it was only the whole, enormous, seasonal fowl that found its way into our oversized oven.
As a result, the idea of my Dad’s super-delicious main course, his special stuffing — and the idea of stuffing ourselves — was as exciting as anything our young imaginations could dream up.
One year, dear-old Dad decided to make turkey soup with the remains of the thoroughly picked-over carcass. But as I recall, he called it “turkey BONE” soup. We all laughed at him and teased him, asking how his “turkey BONE” soup was doing, with heavily Southern accents.
When Dad finished the hodgepodge of meat, rice and any suitable vegetables that had survived our original feast, he presented the mishmash to us in tremendous steaming bowls.
Was it great? No. By today’s standards it would be judged watery and wanting for spices. But it was good. And for a big family of kids, perpetuating the flavor of the long-yearned-for, savory holiday main course was sheer bliss. We ate our fill and complimented poor Dad.
Inspired by our juvenile enthusiasm, he continued to make his unique and satisfying soup until my husband and I took over the culinary duties.
I must leave this sentimental essay to check on my own soup. It will have superb flavor and be thickly full of vegetables, spices and rice.
Will I enjoy it as much as my dad’s soup? No. No matter how hard I try, I could never duplicate the warmth, happiness, anticipation and pleasure of savoring Dad’s “turkey BONE soup.”
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