I was 6 or 7 years old. My grandmother had a big rooster (so it seemed back then) the color of the sand, with red feathers in its tail, crooked like reaping hooks. It was a fine rooster. It was also a bad rooster. It chased anyone passing through his area of influence and it tried to jump on everybody’s head. The bad part was that his area of influence was attached to him and consequently, it moved with the rooster. The worse part is that when you’re 6-7 years old, you’re not that tall, which is why you can always end up with your head in the rooster’s area of influence. Which is what happened to me. Since then, rooster bouillon has been the best idea. I had no idea where this would lead.
I cut the rooster, which was grown, cut and cleaned by my mother. I put it in a pot with water, a tablespoon of salt, a few peppercorns, an apple, an onion, a bell pepper, two parsnips, three-four carrots, a small celery and half of a turnip cabbage. I let it boil slowly, for three hours.
I skimmed it whenever it was necessary.
I sieved the broth.
I covered it with chopped parsley.
I boiled two handfuls of homemade noodles, also made by my mother.
I won. Again.
Stay healthy.
Special thanks to
Oana Bodnariuc, Authorized Translator
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