Grandmother Power and Matzo Ball Soup

January, 1980. In this bone marrow transplant room where I lived for 2.5 months, all food had to be sterilized first to kill bacteria before I ate it.  My 88-year-old grandmother kept me in constant supply of her homemade matzo ball soup, which she delivered in a glass jar to the hospital. I drank her soup for lunch, every last drop, several times a week. It was my favorite meal and one of the reasons I'm sure I did so well. Maybe that's why I had such a strong yen for some yesterday and why I wandered into a Jewish deli to order a cup.  (Sorry for the fuzzy, green picture. This was an instant Polaroid shot. The kind you had to wave in the air to dry out.)

This is the cup of soup I ordered. It was perfecto! But not quite as magical &
great as my grandmother's.