We have officially entered chicken soup season. Tam's stuffed up. Ev's sniffin' and blowin'. It's a viral war zone, a viral Occupy Mick's Street.
Years ago I spent a few months living with the Freemans. Dan had been one of my closest friends for years and, after finishing high school early, I worked and lived in LA until it was time to head back to Oregon for college. I lived fairly independently within the household but Friday nights always joined the family for Shabbat dinner. Mrs. Freeman, bless her heart, set a beautiful table, presented mountains of food, but could take a roast chicken within moments of total cremation. Her cooking was delish but the chicken should have come with a black box warning: best taken with a full glass of water. (The Manishewitz made it all better.)
Her chicken soup, on the other hand, was a work of art. She gave me the recipe at the time and I've unfortunately lost it over time. I remember it required 2 days to properly prepare and I miss that soup just writing this. My memory may be embellishing things but I'm inclined to think not. One bowl of that and you extended your life at least a good 2 to 3 hours.
So, as the cold viruses lowered the boom in our neighborhood I decided to fight back. I'm worried about a limited success, however. The version tonight was done and on the table in considerably less than 2 hours, let alone 2 days. But that's not what has me concerned. I had to use noodles. I'm out of matzo. Take it from a doctor: If you want to get serious about cold and flu season, re-stock the matzo meal now. In the meantime, I'll hope for the best in spite of my negligence..
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