Picture source from http://www.food.com/recipe/estonian-milk-soup-with-pasta-shapes-makaroni-piimasupp-472483
Milk soup. A simple concoction of comfort that I thought only my family made.
Jennifer mentioned it recently, bringing its simple wholesomeness back to me when she said that she knows someone else whose family makes it; rather like discovering a cabin nearby on the prairie, or that there is a bus stop is right outside your door. What? Someone else makes milk soup? Who are they? Where are they? We must talk!
Yia Yia, my paternal grandmother, made milk soup often, as did my own mother and my aunt. When we were feeling a little under-the-weather, there it would be, bowl swimming with comfort. In the winters of my childhood, after a brisk walk home from school, steamy bowls of milk soup were often our lunch.
I first made milk soup when I was in college. I often made it for our girls for lunch, sometimes for our family supper. A simple recipe of water, salt, and boiled noodles, with just enough milk for them to hide in. At some point, I stopped putting in a pat of butter, but it is really its best that way.
I’ve been thinking about making some all day. I needed its comfort.
This morning we congregated to say goodbye to a good and godly man. I served with David for 12 years on a local board of education. Initially my rival in an election for four seats, he became a mentor and trusted colleague. David was the chairman of the political science department at the local liberal arts college. Several of his former students spoke at his funeral, as did employees and professors from the college. A fraternity brother of more than half a century came in the blue jeans he was wearing to pay tribute to David; he had heard of his passing just 30 minutes before the service was to begin and rushed to be there. The minister said it was a time to celebrate a life well led, and it was. A brilliant scholar, David’s mind was robbed of all it held by Alzheimer’s, yet, the testimonials afforded on our wintry morning were of a kind soul, a family man, a true citizen of his community, with a moral compass that always pointed straight and true: clarion calls of the David we all remembered.
I thought of David, a man of character, as I drove home, yearning for a bowl of simple comfort with a pat of butter on top. How odd it is for me, at times, the things that come to mind when I’m sad or troubled, or just need to work things out, isn’t it?
I’ve never had milk soup, but I can certainly imagine how comforting it could be. This is a lovely post, Penny, wistful in just the right measure.
That you, Teresa. I appreciate you kind words. It is a comforting soup.
Penny, how sad about the passing of David, such a good man and important to you over many years. I have resonated strongly with this post because just over the last few days I’ve had a longing for milky drinks. It’s to do with comfort over a stressful time, while I’ve been bringing my book to its conclusion, ready to send off to Hong Kong. Milk is so very comforting, and your milk soup (which I’ve never heard of) sounds just the thing. I think of that phrase, ‘the milk of human kindness’ as I read this post.
That is such an appropriate phrase, Juliet. Thank you for that. As I read your comment here, I was thinking of your loss of your childhood teacher this past year and how you honored him, not only with your words, but by taking the time to visit him. A milky drink might certainly bring you comfort as you finish up your book. I hope, and trust, that your new computer is helping you come to that conclusion.
Sorry for your sadness Penny, David sounds to have been a tremendous man. Enjoy your milk soup, and hopefully smile a little with your memories of a good man. Jx
I have been smiling, Janice, and I appreciate your sweet words. Hope you are doing okay.
So sorry you’ve lost a friend.
We’re pottering off to the larder to concoct this. Thanks….
“pottering off to the larder” – love that! I seem to potter quite a bit of late, and am smiling at your catch of the phrase as I appreciate your words. Thank you.
I think that is just what happens when we meet loss face to face – and the fear of something like Alzheimer’s, which can rob a vital, clever man of all he holds dear – to turn to something as elemental as warm, comforting bowl food. For me the link is almost absolute: when I grieve I eat comfort food. I think I did that before I could talk.
Oh, Kate, I think I did as well. Something warm always seems to ease the soul, doesn’t it?
Not odd at all…food is comfort. Especially comfort food from our childhood. Be warm and comforted Penny. I am sorry for the loss of this good man.
Thank you, Sallie. I appreciate your kind words. Isn’t it funny how we often turn to the food of our childhood?
May your many good memories of the times you spent with this gentleman bring you solace. So sorry.
Thank you, Marilyn. He was a good person and, yes, a gentleman. A few of his students, now well into their lives and careers, got up and spoke at the service which was so touching.
So sorry about your friend. Remember the contributions he made and his life well-lived.
Milk soup IS comforting. It was popular in my childhood too. Hadn’t thought of it for years.
I certainly will do that, Joyce. Thank you.
You are the first one I know who has enjoyed milk soup in childhood as well. I think that warm milk combined with noodles or rice of some sort is just the thing to soothe. You’ve made me smile, Joyce.
I am so sorry about the loss of your friend. It sounds like his life was well lived.
I don’t know that I ever had milk soup. We had something similar made with rice and milk. I did learn to eat macaroni with a little margarine on it and nothing else, but I think that was a budget thing. My kids always loved it and me too.
It was a well lived life, Janet. Thank you.
What you had was probably very similar, just a different starch/pasta in it. I still eat macaroni with a little oil on it – maybe some shredded cheese. So simple and, yes, a budget thing as well. If it weren’t so late, I think I’d make some now.
Food is a comfort for a reason, Penny. I’m sorry you lost your friend David. I hope he will be with you, every time you make a batch of milk soup, and in the times in between, in your memory.
It is, isn’t it Andra? Thank you.
I too went to a funeral this week, Penny, of DH’s much-loved aunt, who thankfully retained her intelligence and wit to the end. It’s hard to say goodbye to people who have meant so much to us and a yearning for simple and familiar comfort food seems a natural reaction to me. I’d even have added the pat of butter…..
I am so sorry to hear of your and DH’s loss of his aunt, Perpetua. It is hard as we loss the generation before us, isn’t it? I hope you all had a bit of comfort food as you gathered to say goodbye – maybe even a pat or two of butter.