I have a ritual when winter comes and temperatures plunges.
Big, beautiful, cook all day, batches of chicken broth.
The simple act of transforming scraps of veggies and bones into soul satisfying bowls of comfort fills every part of me.
My heart is filled with memories of my grandmother’s kitchen. The fragrance transporting me to family gatherings with all the branches present. Four generations of grandparents, aunts, uncles, first & second cousins all gathered in a tiny home my grandfather built.
Stockpots filled with broth based soups like stracciatella, tortellini or minestrone. Peasant food filling our bellies with so much more than nutrition.
My soul is satisfied each morning, warm cup of broth in hand, as I take a few moments to reflect on the beautiful life we have. The serene place we call home.
And, of course, my mind, that practical center of operations, loves the frugal nature of turning scraps of veggies and bone into something delicious, nutritious and so much better than a box from the store.
All summer I squirrel away veggie scraps. Stashed in gallon freezer bags awaiting their next use.
The green tops of spring onions & leeks. Garlic, onion & shallot skins, tops and root ends. Celery trimmings, carrot skins, roots & tips. Tomato seeds, pulp, flesh, and skins. Parmesan rinds & parsley stems.
Somewhere along the way, the fragrance of chicken broth has tied itself to family, childhood, comfort & care, something I love to connect with each morning.
Do you have a morning ritual you can’t live without?
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