I remember one Saturday when my mom was sick, and my dad didn't want to fix me a meal, so he took us to a hole-in-the wall greasy spoon. It was up the main road going south from the Veterans Retirement home at Annapolis, Washington (on Puget Sound). He told the waitress to give me a bowl of soup. It was beef-barley soup with about a quarter inch layer of grease on top. I loved it! It's only equal as a soup was mom's oxtail soup.