I spent yesterday morning in my mom’s kitchen making wonton soup. It was a cloudy grey day and just seeing the wind whipping the trees made me feel even cozier standing by the stove. I’d made the chicken broth for the soup the day before and the room still smelled faintly of its warm, heartening scent. Now it was time to mix the filling for the wontons.
I learned how to make this soup from my sister-in-law Jennie, who is Filipino. She made it for us on a bad, hard day when my dad was dying. None of us had an appetite, but Jennie knew we needed some sustenance. So she ran to the grocery, got the ingredients and then went to work pinching. Soon, we were all helping her and were wonderfully distracted.