Writing about making chicken soup was not on the top of my list of things to do today, but then I thought, well, why the heck not?
It was like this: I heard some really, really, really bad news. My uncle lost his battle with cancer.
I was shopping for groceries when I heard the news, so I did my best to make my eyes suck back their tears and moved on.
When I got back home, I noticed that on hazy-eyed autopilot, I had picked out the right ingredients for a chicken soup.
I chopped the onions, enjoying the stinging in my eyes and the excuse to cry, chucking in some ginger powder once the onions were fried and breathing in the aroma, sprinkling in some basil just for a little flavor.
I added the fat leg of chicken and let it sizzle, chucked in mushrooms, leek, carrots, salt, pepper, and a pinch of sugar and let the whole thing stew in its own juices, while I stewed in mine, trying to keep it all in.
In went a can of whole peeled tomatoes, two cans of organic chicken broth, and then it was all set to simmer. I tore up some lemon thyme, added that, and as the place filled up with the fresh, nourishing, inviting smell, I felt somewhat calmer. My hands were not shaking that much any more, either.
I have been wondering about death for some time now, and have tried to reason it out in my writing , but this is the first time I tried cooking, and it literally turned out to be Chicken Soup for the Grieving Soul!
From there on, I went blog browsing, and while I came across posts like this one (a huge coincidence, cos I lost my uncle to lung cancer too), I also found one that lovingly reminded me of all the right things to think about when faced with the death of a loved one.
By this time, the chicken soup was ready.
I was ready as well, to come to terms with the fact that someone I loved and respected had gone on ahead, and was suffering no more.