S ~ Soup

     The Amish community my Dad grew up in had its own quirks. One of which was that instead of serving "church" peanut butter for lunch after church services they served bean soup and half moon pie filled with an apple filling.
    The soup consisted of beans, similar to navy beans but a bit bigger and meatier, torn chunks of bread, milk, and lots of black pepper.
    It was served by placing big bowls on the makeshift tables and everyone ate out of the bowl nearest them. Most tried  to keep to their side, but all that double dipping was still a bit much for those with weaker stomachs. 
    My Dad never talked about it without sharing the revulsion he felt when faced with eating that soup. He chose to skip the soup, eating only his allotted half moon pie, and go home hungry every Sunday.
    Because of his aversion to the whole ordeal Mom never made bean soup for us.
    So it was quite unexpected when I became pregnant with our first child and I craved bean soup even though I had never even tasted it before.
    I made some and enjoyed every bite.
    That craving ran its course and I haven't had bean soup since.