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  • Julie

one/nineteen/twenty-one


On Saturday we boiled the chicken and picked its bones clean. On Sunday we simmered stock, then tended a bubbling soup spread across two big pots for the week ahead, a little minestrone-esque deal eventually packed into traveling pint jars for some, left in the soup pot for others. The baby won't eat soup; the baby ate this soup (as did we all). In terms of life's simple comforts, is there anything nicer than hot homemade lunch in January?

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