MILK TOAST & WEDDING SOUP

For reasons I still do not understand, I grew up with an intense dislike for milk and eggs. This was unfortunate, and must have driven my mother crazy, because in addition to almost 10,000 egg laying chickens, we had a milk cow on our farm.
Of course today I like eggs, even the whites, and I will drink milk, although not too often.

But my mother, bless her devious heart, wasn’t the smartest woman in the world for nothing; she knew how to accomplish the impossible. Knowing how much I liked buttered toast sprinkled with cinnamon, she simply served it to me in a shallow bowel, 2 slices neatly cut into inviting pieces, lying in a bowl of warm milk. She was even cunning enough not to serve it too frequently so it remained something special. I cant’t begin to imagine how much milk, warm milk at that, that I consumed with each serving.

So much for the milk; the eggs required a bit more subterfuge. It wasn’t until I was an adult and married with a family of my own that I learned that the white clumps and strings that were always floating in the broth of her wedding soup and in the beans and greens were egg whites and not the cheese that mother told me it was! She was not above telling what she called “white lies