Woke up Tuesday with a leaky beaky. Watery eyes. An itchy throat. No gym today. Yay!
I went to Citarella for soup greens and a chicken. And cranberries, celery, and apples for my sweet chicken salad. And extra carrots for the soup.
At home, I did what I’ve been doing for 48 years at the stove making soup. Then went into my office to work, planning to emerge frequently to check it out and breathe it in.
My muse and I caucused at the computer. I got fully engaged in my writing, forgetting about my non-drowsy Claritin symptoms. And what was on the stove.
No liquid in the big pot. Just chicken, noodles, soup greens, carrots, and extra carrots. I bundled up again, returned to Citarella for 4 pints of chicken stock, got in the very long 6:00 pm. check-out line, and asked the woman behind me if she’d please hold my place while I got juice. Two quarts of freshly squeezed, very, very expensive orange juice. Healing liquids were required. Who knew if I’d screw up again?
Returning to the line, I thanked the woman. She was putting a giant size bar of Lindt Milk Chocolate in her cart. “My guilty little pleasure,” she said, smiling. “Good idea,” I said, putting two giant size bars of Lindt Milk Chocolate in my cart. “They go well with soup.”
On my way home, I stopped at Breads Bakery for two babkas. They go well with chicken soup, too.
The soup turned out brown-ish from the overcooked, maybe a tad burnt, but oh so sweet extra carrots. Delicious. We had seconds. Seconds in chocolate and babka, too.
I’m better today. I’m heading to a panel at the Friars Club, and then to the PEN New Books Party. ‘Finding Mr. Rightstein’ and I qualify.
First, I’m having a bowl of my $79 soup.
Love ‘n Stuff
Ps. I am sparing you soup photos. One has brown liquid. The other has none.