Matzo Ball Soup: Food Stories

By Olivia Rawiel - 11th grade

The smell of chicken broth wafts through the air of my grandmother's house. It infuses itself into the carpet, shifting between kitchen cabinets and resting on recipes that are at least 40 years old. Matzo ball soup is a tradition in the family that has followed my grandmother from her childhood into my own. 

It is a traditional Ashkenazi food, often served during Jewish holidays like Passover. But it was not the religion that defined the soup, but rather the family and friends sitting around a large table, talking and laughing, pouring stories and anecdotes out over a good bowl of matzo balls. It is also known for its healing and comforting qualities. Chicken soup, similar to the broth from matzo balls, is nutritious and easily digested, making it an easy choice if someone is suffering from a cold or flu or other vague illnesses. Jewish mothers are known for saying, "Have some chicken soup! You'll feel better!" And it was a gift of love from the mother to help her loved one recover. 

Chicken broth filled with matzo meal dumplings (kneidlach) and chicken fat (schmaltz) may not seem like the most appetizing dish to an outsider. But to me, who has had it every year during Thanksgiving, surrounded by family, games, and curling photographs, it is a legacy. And to my grandmother, who learned it from her own mother at a younger age than me, it reminded her of her family and household. To my grandmother, who has eaten matzo balls over the years of her life and seen the different voices imprinted in the soup. Who's watched the recipe change and be redone with every new addition to the family. Who's seen her grandchildren grow the same respect and taste for the soup as her own, it means much more than just a dish. 

She has seen the way it has changed over the years, and acknowledges the tension that comes with the dish: “After my mother would boil the matzo balls, she would roll them in chicken fat and bake them in the oven. They would become heavy and hard, and they would sink to the bottom of the bowl of your chicken soup. They were also very slippery and hard to eat.” She said, “And then, I met my mother-in-law and it turns out she made light matzah balls–the kind that we now eat today.” Because of this, an unintentional rivalry between the two schools of family occurred: ‘The sinkers and the floaters’, as my grandmother puts it. She compared it to a high school rivalry, which is the better team? While talking, she highlighted the irony and importance of this tension. “In some ways it's laughable,” she said, “but of course, between the grandmothers, they were trying to pass on their tradition to the younger generations and there was a strong value judgment.” 

In the end, my grandmother chose to make the lighter matzo balls, abandoning her mothers recipe and shifting to a new one. This symbolic switch shows how our family is constantly changing and evolving, but also how no one, recipe and all, could be forgotten in the story of our family foods. 

This soup contains the expansive history of jewish immigrants leaving their homes and traveling to new lives. Through this story, we see how our identity changes, even in these minor ways, as we grow and let history dissolve behind us.

Even outside of the family, different cultures fuse and combine into something new and exciting. For example, Creole and Jewish cultures clash in New Orleans, creating matzo ball gumbo. “Though Jews haven’t lived in New Orleans all 300 years, Jewish cooking there evolved quickly as African American cooks taught their employers how to use local ingredients to abide by religious rules and traditions. By the time trade increased and kosher ingredients became more available, the adapted recipes had become family mainstays.” states an article from The Gumbo Diaries (Celebrating 300 Years of New Orleans with 300 recipes and Jewish Gumbo). This shows how food culture is not just about what you eat, but how you connect with others through different dishes. When we eat food, we are eating stories. We are eating the traditions and heritages of our ancestors, of the people we love and of the people who will love us. 

My grandmother's legacy will be passed down through her food. When I was younger, she was the one that taught me how to make matzo ball soup in the first place. Because of this, she will be remembered by the way her soup tastes, smells, and  is made. Matzo balls are the bridge between her and future generations, showing how relevant food is for loving others, remembering the past, and connecting with yourself. But also connecting with the culture of the thousands of people who have moved and lived different lives, just so you could be eating the dish you now have in front of you. 

Now, as I grow older and figure out what it means to learn from family, I see that my grandmother will always hold a soft spot in my heart, not only for the food she made, but for the memories she created in cooking this special dish called matzo ball soup.