Medicine

My husband has the good (or bad) fortune of having a meal ready to go for him when he arrives home on his lunch break. I prepare simple fare such as a grilled sandwich and salad or round two of an earlier meal. He is usually in a hurry so there is not much lingering involved. Dine and dash.

One particular meal involved the last bowl of homemade chicken soup. He came home in a rather frazzled state. Plans had changed at work. Someone he had hoped would be helping him was no longer available on the job site. An additional duty of moving furniture for someone popped up and the streets were becoming difficult to navigate with a blizzard bearing down. There was also a possibility of snow removal for three driveways after the snow abated. Clearly, a hot meal was needed.

While he shared his impending duties with me, he methodically ate his chicken soup, salad and crispy saltines. About halfway through his soup, he wrapped his hands around the warm bowl and sighed, "I think all I needed was some chicken soup. I feel better now." The conversation for the rest of the meal was far less frantic and the very last drop of soup was slurped up. (We are slurppers, don't judge.)

Many believe chicken soup has curative powers, especially for those feeling a bit under the weather. The soup has even achieved the nickname, Jewish penicillin. I have no scientific data to suggest such claims are true but chicken soup surely has the ingredients for health. Carrots, celery and onions are  powerhouses of vitamin C, A, K and other antioxidants. Onions are also a known expectorant, a.k.a. phlegm buster. The warm chicken broth is soothing and mild to the stomach. The soft noodles are little sponges for flavor and combine all the ingredients into a satisfying meal.

My anecdotal evidence certainly supports the potency of a humble bowl of chicken soup. My daughter always refers to chicken soup as her comfort food from home. On more than one occasion, a bowl of warm chicken soup has raised the spirits of my nieces after a long drive to our house from far-flung places. A container of soup has brightened the day of friends needing a meal after a tough day or week. And I, myself, crave chicken soup when the weather is foul and no travel is advised.

In all honesty, I suspect the real magic of homemade chicken soup is that it is a conveyor belt of love. Someone took the time to chop vegetables, boil meat for broth, strain the broth, add seasonings and finish the whole works with a cup or two of egg noodles. Real homemade soup does not happen in a few minutes. It cannot be procured at a drive-thru. It doesn't come from a can. And it cannot be served by a stranger.

I guess our grandmothers knew best. Sharing a bowl of soup with family and friends can cure what ails you.

(Oops, we ate the soup before a photo was taken. The crackers were good, too.)