Chicken Soup

Yesterday after breakfast and an hour of writing - I got a stomachache. I could explain the sort of dumb thing I ate and the sort of demanding thing I was trying to write - but you already know everything that’s relevant. Diet and stress. Yup. 

So at 11AM I took a nap and I felt better. I desired to be nicer to my digestive system (we go way back) and decided I would like chicken soup. Of which we had none. We were also low on essential groceries such as such as watermelon and nectarines so I went to Pick n’ Save, bought a few things, paid my hundred dollars. Came home 

And made the best chicken soup of my life. 

I’m not sure why it was so good. I’d bought a box of frozen chicken breasts and used two of them. I sliced and chopped them while they were still frozen into small pieces about the size of a marble. I dumped the chicken into the pot with a precisely measured nurdle of olive oil (about 3-4 tablespoons). Some garlic, an onion, the rest of the very old mini-carrots, celery rejected at the Food Pantry so I brought it home and sanctimoniously ripped off the bruised and brown outer stalks. (The older I get the more I identify with bruised produce). 

I stirred this slurry every time I added a new ingredient. Added at least two tablespoons of a Greek seasoning combo Len bought a month ago that has a lot of thyme in it. 

Back when I was having long eye appointments in preparation for the cataract surgeries, Len would drive me to the eye wizard’s office where he’d drop me off. Then he’d go to Costco to pretend he was fine, just fine. I was so surprised to get into our car later and now we had a 20-can flat of chicken broth, a dozen cans of black olives, a cadre of canned tomato product and I don’t remember what else. I raised my eyebrows at him. He muttered, “I buy provisions when I’m nervous about you.” 

So I added two cans of chicken broth, two cans of water, and brought everything to a boil for a while. Finally I put the lid on the pot, turned it to low, and let it simmer two hours. 

At one point I remembered my personal soup “trick” and added a quarter cup of rice. I think rice holds flavors well and thickens the broth just a little. 

It was surprising to smell real chicken soup in the summer. Windows open, kids yelling outside, train rumbling by, and chicken soup. It works. 

Right before we ate I poured in a nurdle of milk. This time a nurdle was about a quarter cup.

It was the best chicken soup I’ve ever made. Maybe because I cut the chicken into small chunks so it wasn’t stringy? Maybe the six week old carrots? The tired celery? The chicken broth of anxious love? 

Does this ever happen to you? A purposeful day goes sideways. You are uncomfortable in your own body. You take a nap if you can. Maybe a walk or bike ride. You read a book or watch an old movie that clears your head. 

You cook something or buy a simple sandwich at a local deli. You give yourself the kind of uncomplicated day you’d give a second grader and maybe, if you are lucky, the day gives you back to yourself.