Love them lulus.

It’s a ritual now.

Every few months- long enough after the last time so that it seems like it’s been a while, but short enough for my nephew Grant to remember to request it- my mom makes chicken and noodles.

Mom’s chicken and noodles is the kind that is made with thick egg noodles swimming in a thickened chicken saucy soup. It’s a chicken broth that is made stout and light by flour, among other ingredients. The chicken and noodles are mixed and stirred in a large soup pot for a long time until just the right flavor settles into them.

When it is time to eat, the hearty chicken and noodles are ladled over a mashed pancake of mashed potatoes spread across the center of a plate. In the style of Grant, my young nephew and champion of Grammy’s chicken and noodles, peas are sprinkled over the chicken noodle mound, and the recipe is complete.

Chicken and noodle night started a long time ago when my mom first tried the recipe, and our family loved it. At one point, one of m nephew’s couldn’t say “noodles”, but he liked to eat them- and that’s when they became “lulus”..It’s one of those recipes that is comforting to the body and soul every time you it, but the preparation time takes a little while. And the not-so-secret ingredient that brings the whole thing together, the egg noodles, are of a preferred brand, and at times hard to find. You don’t just whip together chicken and noodles- the dinner is an event.

And that is what it has become now.

Grant will ask my mom if we can have chicken and noodles soon, and that is the trigger. It may take two or three weeks to formalize, but in time, the date for noodles is set, “one night next week”.

And what that means is that my mom and did will work during a weekday to prepare the meal and to set up their house for the gathering, which includes dressing the nice table in the big room with a table cloth and nice plates and glasses and special napkins, and also setting up a fold-out table in the living room for overflow.

Noodles night, Mom and Dad’s house is bright with every room light on, and abuzz with family. My sister and her husband and two sons come. I join in. My brother-in-law’s mother also comes. And usually, a friend or two of someone also joins us.

The kitchen has many glasses on a counter by a pitcher of tea. A big bowl of salad with onions and radish slices is on another part of the main counter ready to fill your salad bowl, with dressings nearby to glaze your veggies.

A big pot of mashed potatoes is also on the main counter. And on the stove is the large pot of chicken and noodle. Mom already has a Cornell dish of peas microwaved and warm on the main dinner table.

Usually a group prayer is said, and then everyone grabs a plate and/or a bowl from their place at a table, and fills them with the good stuff. Whatever table you sit at, you enjoy the flavor of the chicken and noodles on your tongue, and you talk happily with your neighbors.

Inevitably, plate one gets finished, and you rest a bit and talk and laugh, and then you go back for seconds.

By the end of the meal, you are full, and then my mom asks if anyone is ready for pie with whipped cream on it. In a little while, you say- but as soon as your stomach is ready, you get a slice.

And you collapse on a couch in a chicken noodle coma and appreciate what you just ate.

Some nights, the congress ends quickly, and others, it may end after a long card game, or watching a Lobo game. There are always a lot of dishes, but we guests hop in and try to get them cleaned up quickly, or in the dishwasher.

And all is right in the world.

And mom questions if she’ll make it again any time soon, even though everyone loves it.

She waits for a while.

She waits for Grant to ask her for them again.

Way to go, Grant.