A few days ago, I was walking Gibbs with my friend and neighbor, Michele, when the topic turned to making a soup she called “Chuck-it.”

“Chuck-it?” I asked, wondering if it was a recipe that called for ground chuck. If so, I couldn’t begin to imagine why she’d tell me about it. I’m not a vegan, or even a vegetarian, but I haven’t eaten beef in decades. Just never cared for the taste. My husband, Mike (who loves a steak medium rare), claims it’s because my mother cooked the life out of it, steak included, until it was no more palatable than chew leather. That may be, but I’m in no hurry to revisit the memory. Besides, my mother used to boil broccoli until it was yellow and our green beans usually came from a can. Today, I’m a huge fan of both vegetables, though I prefer them served fresh and lightly steamed.

But I digress. Turns out Michele was talking about cleaning out her refrigerator. Anything without blue mould that could possibly be salvaged—a leftover piece of chicken breast, some sad looking veggies, a sprout-y potato or onion—went into a pot with some broth to become Chuck-it soup, a skill learned from her Polish mother.

“Ah,” I said, instantly understanding. “My mother called it Ein Topf, which literally means One Pot in German. We had it most Thursday nights, Thursday being the night the Penz family went grocery shopping after supper.”

I thought back to all the Ein Topfs I’d eaten, some more successful than others. I can distinctly remember dreading the ones with leftover turnip, or worse, pickled red cabbage. Some things  simply do not belong in a soup.

But I’m nothing if not my mother’s daughter, and while it’s not a weekly ritual, I’ve made my fair share of Ein Topfs over the years, not that Mike has tried a single one. Seems his Ukrainian mother made her own version of Chuck-it and Ein Topf, and he vowed never to eat another one once he’d left home. But to me, cleaning out the fridge, dicing and chopping those rescued relics, brings back memories of a simpler time, a time when families went grocery shopping together every Thursday night after a bowl of homemade soup.

What about you, readers? Any Ein Topfs or Chuck-its in your life?