This is more than just soup.
This is a memory. About my grandmother's kitchen. About warm hands kneading the dough. About the aroma that permeated the whole house and made everyone come home for dinner.

I love everything about this process.
Soft chicken meat on the bone, carrots that color the broth golden, onions, herbs…
And most importantly — noodles that I cook myself. Dough, a few eggs, salt and patience. Roll out thinly, cut into strips, spread on a towel — and let them breathe.

When this soup is on the stove, it seems to me that even the air in the apartment becomes warmer.
This is not a dish - it is a feeling of home.

I love to feed this soup to those I love.
Because for me it is not just food. It is my "care", "hugs" and "I am with you" on a plate.

And what is your dish of love?..
Share with me - I am interested to know what warms your heart 💛

With warmth,
Kristina 🍲