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One of the foods I most long for from my childhood bopping around Jewish delicatessens in New York and Los Angeles is the humble bowl of matzo ball soup: a mountain of tender dumplings surrounded by rich stock and not much else.

As a child I would nibble each tender spoonful, carefully whittling down my knaidel (as “matzo ball” is called in Yiddish). I felt comforted and loved, not from my grandmother’s kitchen, but by those fascinating, mostly ancient servers who dished it up. Over 20 years ago, my darling nanny and I attempted to make this soup at home. How’d we do with this highly regarded (and oh-so-controversial) dish? Did I change up the original recipe?

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