The last time I made this particular soup recipe was on Friday, December 4, 2015.
I know this not because I have some incredibly organized system for recording every meal I have ever made, but because I made that soup for a special lunch, with some special friends, that turned out to be even more special than we knew in the moment we were living it.
We had planned the lunch because for the first time in over 10+ years our little Dinner Group, which we had organized when our kids were still in preschool and some were not yet even born, was not going to have its annual Santa Party.
It was a tradition we all enjoyed and loved but that particular year life was getting in the way. The kids had gotten older and had wildly varied college Christmas break schedules. There were private health issues creating concern and complication. The kids still at home had winter sports tournaments and performances. For the first time in well over a decade we all reluctantly agreed to forego the party.
This doesn't mean it's the end. We can do it next year! We will figure it out!
And a million other assurances flew back and forth on that email thread.
But I really do think, looking back, we all did kind of know it was the end.
As the Brad Paisley song says, "There's a last time for everything."
(Because there is a country music song for every occasion.)
Not wanting to let the Christmas season pass without any opportunity for connection, we decided to meet for lunch, just as gals, early in December- before everything got TOO crazy.
Again, life got in the way. In the end it turned out that only 4 of the 6 of us could meet. Tracy, myself, and two of our old, dear friends.
It always kind of surprises me when I realize I have "old friends" in Seattle. Since I didn't grow up there, there were so many years I felt like everything and everyone was new. But I think it's fair to say that when you have been friends for 20 years, you now qualify as "old friends."
And, of course, Tracy and I were the very oldest and dearest of friends.
As we sat around the table someone suddenly noticed and remarked, "Well, this is kind of perfect. Here we are, the original four who decided to start the Dinner Group."
We started reminiscing about that day, many years before, when we were all together watching our kids play and Tracy floated this idea (of course it was Tracy's idea) of gathering together with our spouses, every couple of months, just to eat a meal and talk. That simple idea launched both many fun, lively dinner gatherings, and an annual Christmas party that our grown kids still talk about. From preschoolers to college graduates, we watched each other's kid's grow and talked about everything under the sun.
I don't remember anyone saying it this way, but I think the four of us sitting there felt like that lunch together validated something.
It was a marker of some sort in which we said silently to one another, Thank you.
Thank you for giving me connection and community and support during those busy, sleepless, uncertain years of raising little ones.
Thank you for making me laugh more times than I can count.
Thank you for bringing me food when I was sad.
Thank you for babysitting my kids.
Thank you for commiserating about sleep schedules, school choices, picky eaters, diet and exercise, discipline, homework battles, health concerns, family dynamics, fashion trends, and a million other life issues both mundane and significant.
(And, on a personal level, I hope my heart remembered to offer a special thank you to Tracy, because I'm pretty sure she came up with this idea in large part for my benefit. She was always working her magic to help me put down roots in a city that was not my own.)
The four of us ate a cozy meal of soup and bread on a cold, December day, celebrating what had been and perhaps quietly acknowledging the future would not look quite the same, even if we didn't yet know how or why or in what way.
One week later Tracy passed away.
That was the last meal she and I shared together. That was the last meal we as four old friends shared together. I guess you could say it was the last meal of our little Dinner Group.
And for over three years I have not been able to bring myself to make that soup again.
But last night I did.
It was just for my little family of three. It was cozy and warm and Annie declared it to be, "Sooooo good."
I made it giving thanks for good memories and good friends. I made it feeling grateful that even as life sometimes brings unexpected change and loss, I have known what it is to be held and lifted up by community and friends. I made it as a promise to myself to seek, nurture, and celebrate the important relationships in my life. I made it with hope that this year is going to bring a deeper sense of community and home. I made it to remember.
It made me happy to make that soup.
I think I will officially rename that soup in my own mind: Friendship Soup.
Easy.
Not at all fussy.
Simple ingredients.
Consistent.
Comfort with a capital C.
All it takes is a little time to get the flavors just right.
Just like old friends.
Thanks to all of mine. 😘
P.S.
Okay, here's the recipe. It's a total 1970's dump in the crockpot type recipe with the modern addition of quinoa. 😄 I have found it works better to prepare the quinoa separately and then add it to the soup. When it cooks with the soup it just keeps soaking up all the liquid and it gets really, really thick. If it is prepared on its own, even if you still then add it at the beginning and let it cook for 4 hours, it doesn't seem to do that. For SUPER convenience, I used the frozen Trader Joes quinoa packets. I cooked two in the microwave and then added them to the crockpot. Everything else, I did as written. Couldn't be easier.
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