Druckin Determined Not to Get Sick

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I've got big balls.

I love that this picture seems vaguely indecent, like these moist, luscious matzo balls are spreading themselves apart in a come-hither fashion. (Thank you for the pic, Vidalia Flickr person.) I have a sore throat thing happening, so last night I treated myself to Jewish penicillin, a.k.a. matzo ball soup. Here in LA, deli choices are few and far between.

There’s Izzy’s in Santa Monica, but they serve a bland, soggy ball. There’s Canter’s, which serves overpriced (albeit delicious) soup but you have to fight The Grove traffic, serious mishigas. So when I need a fix, I often find myself at Factor’s (Beverly-Hills adjacent), and get their Soup-Er Pot Chicken Soup, with matzo ball, kreplach, noodles, rice and kasha.

The doughy little pocket of kreplach alone — chewy, almost silky in the rich golden broth — is enough to make you want to chest-bump your bubbe. (The Jewish version of slap your Pappy?) In researching Factor’s, I found this intriguing photo:

Picture 1

And they lived happily ever after.

Does this mean that you can actually get MARRIED in Factor’s non-smoking outdoor patio? Can you imagine the possibilities? No overcooked salmon or rubbery wedding chicken here — a cake made entirely of chopped liver and bottomless bowls of pickles to snack on! Nu, what are you waiting for, a miracle? The Messiah? Book it. Now.

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