Submitted by Emma Buls, Duluth, Minnesota
I never knew I had a sour tooth until I ate sorrel soup. It was at a lunch at my Aunt Lidia’s house, in a breezy beach community hugging Port Phillip Bay, south of Melbourne. I was around 8 years old, and at this point in our lives my younger brother and I were used to eating whatever was served, no kids’ menus, no special meals or bland substitutions to accommodate children’s simpler palates.
