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Family Secrets

November 28, 2010
My mom makes great soups. Potato soup, beef stew, clam chowder, chicken and rice soup…. lots of great soups. Of all of them, though, the only one I’ve learned to make is her chicken and rice. It’s cold outside and we’ve eaten too much lately, so this sounded like the perfect meal for dinner. I won’t share the actual recipe since it’s not mine to share. I’m not sure if that’s in line with or a deviation from food blog etiquette, but nonetheless…

It’s taken me a couple years to really get it right and for it to be consistent, but I’m finally happy with how it comes out. B loves it despite the onion, celery and carrots. Granted, I’m quite practiced at chopping them into the tiniest of pieces, but it’s still impressive when he willingly consumes vegetables of any kind.

While waiting for the soup to cook, I got brave and decided to try another family recipe. My grandmother wasn’t the biggest cook in the world (much like me), but she made the most amazing tortillas ever. Not long after we lost her a few years ago, my mom found a handwritten copy of her tortilla recipe. I remembered this a few weeks ago and asked my dad to send me a scanned copy.

Tonight I decided not only to try making them for the first time, but to try making them gluten-free. I chose Bob’s Red Mill Gluten Free All Purpose Baking Flour. My dad had already warned me not to mess with the measurements. There’s a reason I’d rather cook than bake. I’m not great with precision in recipes. I’m more apt to just toss it all in a pot and hope for the best. This doesn’t lend itself well to successful baking. I was really rather pleased that I at least had something resembling real dough by the time all the ingredients were mixed.

In the end, though I tred carefully with my measurements, they weren’t very good. They were edible, but they were shaped funny and I had to make them really small to get them to stay together. I think I’ll try out some different blends of flour before trying this one again. Truth be told, no matter how much better they get, they’ll never be quite as nice of the memory of eating tortillas at my grandparents kitchen table early in the morning before anyone else got up.

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