When it comes to comforting soups, I can easily say I have a hands-down favorite: Italian wedding soup. My experience of it is neither particularly Italian, nor is it matrimonial, rather it was one of the first real meals my mother fed me when I was a baby. The legend is that I’d slurp it loudly, humming, and the broth would dribble down my neck, soaking the neck of my shirt.
This recipe for Italian wedding soup was handed down to my mother, and adapted at each stop, from a man named Fran, whose daughter was my first babyhood friend. I don’t really remember Fran—he passed away when we were still tiny—but he lives within me every time I make this soup. Now I see fit to serve it to anyone I love—from my own little person (who also slurps, dribbles, and hums) to a cozy winter dinner party, where guests often let go of their manners too.
