Guest Author - Carolann Stefanco
Our family celebrated traditional Thanksgiving dinner with my grandparents as far as I can remember until the next generation of cooks took over the kitchen. But make no mistake about it, no one could roll out the dough made from eggs, flour and water and other ingredients the way grandma did to make homemade noodles for her soup to be served fresh and hot on Thanksgiving day.
Sure, Tom turkey was always the center of attention, and the homemade mashed potatoes, gravy and stuffing was always a delight for the eyes and stomach, but there was something about the soup from scratch.
Grandma would work so hard preparing the noodles on a large, wooden cutting board the size of a small kitchen table and roll that old wooden rolling pin over the dough until it was a certain thickness. She would use the big kitchen knife to cut the dough into many thin strips and cook them in a large pot of boiling water. It always amazed me as to why she chose to do it that way when she could have easily bought a box of pasta at a store.
Three days prior to the feast for the immediate family of ten, and larger as time went on, grandma and grandpa prepared everything in the cellar kitchen. The delicious aromas wafted throughout the entire house past the first floor and onto the second floor where we all gathered around the dining room table to enjoy a grand, yet simple meal.
As a young girl of ten back in the fifties, I remember sitting patiently at the family table to be served a hot bowl of those homemade noodles floating in turkey broth, with diced carrots and a few pieces of turkey liver. Living in the northern part of New Jersey in November I could always expect it to be cold in the house, but that bowl of soup always warmed me up immediately. I can still visualize the dinnerware on the table, the tablecloth grandma tatted from lace, and of course waiting to savor that first spoonful of homemade turkey noodle soup.
It was ever so special because she only prepared it for Thanksgiving and she made it with lots of love. Even though the rolling pin she used was passed down the generations to me, try as I might, I cannot quite prepare the noodles for the soup the way she did and I do not have the original recipe of all the ingredients to make the noodles anymore. But as long as my memory serves me, and all of my senses, I will always be reminded of grandma's homemade soup from scratch for the entire family to enjoy every Thanksgiving day.