When it comes to food, I'm the first to admit that I'm not a fan of stuff from a can. I mean, it just sits there for months on end...and the scary thing is that it's supposed to! So why is it, that on a Sunday night, after a workout, that I'm craving chicken noodle soup? That's right, Campbell's slimy, noodle soup with too salty chicken broth. Not even the homemade stuff (which, I'll sometimes make from scratch).
Could it be that it's cold, a little rainy and I'm getting over a case of allergies (damn you honeydews!) that I just want something warm and comforting in my belly? I guess it makes sense...growing up, whenever I was sick, (or growing up watching TV, when somebody else got sick) chicken noodle soup was at the top of the medicine list.
And to be honest, if you're feeling craptastic, would you really be in the mood to make a hearty bowl of chicken noodle soup from scratch? Of course not - unless you're Martha Stewart. I'm the first to admit that I wouldn't. It's much easier to reach for a can opener and that red and white tin, dump the entire thing into a pot and heat it up on the stove. Or in tonight's case, the microwave. (PL and CY - if you're reading this, you'll be proud - I'm eating straight out of the pot).
Is it really the taste that I'm craving or just the familiarity of it all? An entire series of books (Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul / the working woman / the insomniac / the person who's read too many chicken noodle soup books) based on this dish has been written - and supposedly comforted millions of people.
Could it be that just the thought or it - not even tasting it can have huge psychological benefits? (And should I even continue writing down this strange path of ramblings?) I don't know.
But what I do know is this: as I'm writing, a pot of chicken noodle soup waits for me - steaming, and yellowy, and just a spoonful away from bringing me comfort on a cold rainy day. <
