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The Grandmatzah Balls
A Bowl of Soup Reveals How My Grandmas Live Deep Inside My Heart and Soul
The past holiday weekend has me thinking a lot about family and tradition. I especially have been feeling my grandmothers. Really, they are in my heart and soul every day. I would not be the woman I am today without them.
My two grandmas made matzah balls very differently. Grandma Rita made them light and fluffy — perfect round lightly salted white balls. They were buoyant in the soup and soft in my mouth. They rested in a clear broth and I always wanted seconds.
Grandma Muriel’s matzah balls were the complete opposite. They were a speckled dark tan color, small, and rock hard in the center. They sunk to the bottom in the bowl of a dark murky broth filled with very large chunks of celery and unpeeled carrots. I remember one Passover seder my uncles joking about using them as golf balls, yelling fore! and actually tossing them across the room. What I mostly remember about that moment, was how Grandma Muriel’s face lit up with the teasing and laughter, as there was nothing she enjoyed more than having her whole family all around her, laughing and enjoying.
Matzah ball soup holds generations of memories and traditions. Both Rita and Muriel’s soups live in the epicenter of my soul, as do their stories and their…
