Soup Making Queen: A Mother and Daughter Cooking Rivalry

Tempt me with a bowl of ice cream or a bowl of soup -- I will pick the soup every time. Some crave sweets -- I crave soup. I love to create a hearty pot of soup with whatever I can find in my pantry. Bring on the challenge. No matter what anyone says, my mom taught me that soup making is not for sissies. Check out the mom and daughter story behind my soup-making skills and the day I became the family soup queen.

Learning from a Soup Goddess

When it came to making delicious soup virtually from nothing, I admit my mom was the best. It is safe to say she was a soup goddess in her own right. When Mom began teaching me to make soup, she had no clue she was creating a competition monster. I, too, was clueless. I always thought making soup was sort of a mundane task.

My mom was an overall exceptional cook. She was not shy about that fact in the least. Once she referred to gravy, which she made for Thanksgiving dinner, as "damn good looking gravy." You see, she was so confident that she made the best gravy -- she moved on to praising its beauty.

Mom passed over a few years back. I cannot make soup, though, without the nagging feeling that she is watching over my shoulder. I seriously believe she is always trying to prod me to add much more garlic than is necessary. Oops, don't remember putting that much garlic in this soup. You get my paranormal drift. Are there things we refuse to let go of even in death?

Feisty Soup Rivalry

We actually became merciless who-makes-the-best soup rivals. It was not always in a good-natured sense either. Making soup brought out a stifled personality I never knew existed. It was rather creepy. For years, we battled it out to be the ultimate chicken and turkey soup-from-scratch queen. We were acutely aware there could only be one.

My Humble (Ha!) Soup Offer

On a cold, New England winter day, I casually presented my mother with a steaming bowl of oh, my, there is a blizzard raging outside I guess I will have to make a chicken vegetable soup soup. As I served her the soup I secretly judged perfect -- I humbly (and a tad snarkily) noted that it was just soup and probably would not set off any fireworks for her. Yawn.

Purposely forgetting the oyster crackers, I hid around the corner so I could gauge her reaction to my soup. While she waited for the oyster crackers, she tested the soup. She took another spoonful. I saw her eyebrows arch. Her lips pursed in what appeared to be resentful acknowledgment. Either that or she was simply swollen with motherly pride. I could not tell which.

She called out impatiently for the crackers. I grabbed my soup mug and the crackers, and headed into the dining room.

Lady, Hand Over the Soup Crown

My mom stared at me with a baffled look that frightened me. Oh, how I hated that scary mother look. You know that dreaded stare that sends a shiver down your spine. Only moms know how to pull off a look that chilling.

Then she said, "It is official... you make better soup than I do." "What?" Yep... that is the best I could muster up despite the glorious moment. Funny thing: even though I knew I should argue that she was still the best soup maker on the planet -- I didn't.

That day, my mother turned her soup bowl crown, and her cherished ladle scepter over to me. I have never looked back since. I realize it is only soup. I have created soup that is so good, though, it would make you cry.