Family traditions always revolve around food, at least for my family. You eat the right food for the right holiday, with little variation. Passover means my grandmother’s matzo balls, brisket and macaroons. (If my sister is lucky, someone will bring the fruit slice jelly candies.) Grandma is 94 now and has turned over matzo ball duties to my parents. Days of labor go into making both the balls and the chicken broth, but Mom and Dad always make enough so that we get to bring home leftovers. This recipe is part of my history and my family’s history and I hope that this post will hold up better than my faded notes from years ago. This is my soul food.