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Four Down, None To Go….

November 4, 2009

Charlie was the first to get sick, and then (surprise!) Jack got sick, then (surprise!) my husband, then (are you already ahead of me?)  yours truly. Now we’re all home together, having quality time within the confines of our incredible shrinking apartment.

But we’re not really all that sick. Apparently we shouldn’t be hanging out with other human beings in confined spaces right now, and in this anxious climate the doctors have no compunctions about locking our family up for several days. But Gary is lying underneath the desk doing something to the computer wires, and the kids are alternately building block structures, reading, yelling at each other, begging for video time, and playing with the paper shredder. (What? Don’t look at me like that, it’s got a finger guard).

Bowl with spoon

Photo credit: Joseph De Leo

And I am making soup. I am on my third kind of soup, and it’s like a compulsion at this point. I can’t give you the recipes, because there has been no measuring or recording of ingredients or anything. Suffice it to say that my vegetable drawers and even my pantry have not looked this clean in, well, ever. Making soup makes me feel better on pretty much every level, but mostly it makes me feel better to be able to make something good out of lots and lots of little pieces that aren’t contributing much to society or dinner on their own. I’m talking about you, slightly shriveled piece of ginger, and you, red bell pepper that is starting to go soft, and you, too, leftover roasted chicken and half box of arborio rice. On your own: eh, not so much. But together: oh, you lovely, lovely ingredients.

While I can’t provide the recipes, I can tell you what’s in my fridge, and give you some links to real recipes that will head you in the same directions. Lentil soup with rice, split pea soup with sausage, and chicken soup with noodles and matzo balls (second time this week, but it is one of the all-time favorite meals in our house, well, sick, or in between).

Now I am eying the can of white hominy that’s been sitting there in the pantry, all smug in its belief that I’ll never figure out what to do with it. Well, pozole, your day has come.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Christina Sparrow permalink
    November 7, 2009 1:08 am

    It makes me feel guilty, but I dream of being too sick to go to work, but healthy enough to be up and about — just so I could spend two or three days cooking! Sigh!

    • Abby permalink
      November 16, 2009 7:44 pm

      That part does sound really indulgent…!

  2. November 7, 2009 1:31 pm

    That part was kinda great, I have to say.

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