Shorbat Kibbe W'Riz, Meatball Rice Soup

As I rummage through my cabinets, finding the right pot or pan in preparation for a family meal, I keep finding Sitto's things. And as I reach for these precious implements that she used each day, my memory of her is as distinct as it was years ago, while I sat at her kitchen table.

Sometimes I'd help her shell walnuts, or I'd get something from the basement for her, or she's asked me to peel garlic. She'd point out these pots and pans to me, tell me whose they were and what she used them for...like Sitto Lucy's porcelain pans...so old, from the turn of the last century, chipped here and there, but still intact. The squash and sausage tools, her Hehwan...used every day to mash garlic and salt together, adding mint, until it was a paste.

Today I see them all around me, as I tell my own children how long these have been in the family. In fact, my Mom put notes in some of these pots and bowls when she handed them over to me. She made me promise to keep them safe for my own children and grandchildren. I hardly needed her reminder! You see, it's not the value of the pot or the funnel...it's who held it and what they meant to us. They are our ancestors, the keepers of the flame, our history, the traditions brought from far away in Aleppo, Syria, in the hearts and minds of those who came before us.

In their time, as they ladled those delicious and warming soups, grains, vegetables and meats, I realized that the most satisfying are the soups. For me, they are the essence of my grandparents immigrant past....a frugal meal, rich in flavor and spices, made with love of family, and always enough to go around.

This particular soup, Shorbat Kibbe W'Riz, Meatball Rice Soup embodies all of that. The kneaded Kibbe Nai mixture, the rice, onions and spices, simmered with tomatoes; it was all there! I would marvel as I wrote my cookbook at how versatile the Kibbe recipe really is. This is a meal in itself along with some Syrian bread, bought or homemade. It is all you need to bring back those memories that they left us. Bil'Hana!