My grandpa’s homemade chicken noodle soup.
We have it at the start of every meal for every holiday. It actually doesn’t even have chicken in it. For some reason, Hungarians use chicken to make the broth, but take it out and eat it after they eat the soup as another course with horseradish. I’m not really into that. But this soup is perfect. It so simple, just noodles and carrots and broth but I swear nothing is better. Sometimes papa makes it for me when I’m really sick too. For the rest of my life, I’ll remember this soup and how it made the rough, usually somewhat unpleasant holidays with my dysfunctional family a little warmer and happier.
