"Soup's ready, babe," my sister Molly called from the kitchen. I heard the wooden drawer screech on it's guide, the rustle of a couple of spoons gently clanking into two soup bowls. Sis was in town for two weeks to review my surgery procedure and to monitor post-op progress. When I told her of a triple-bypass being scheduled, she instantly asked what she could do and after counsel with her husband, packed for a trip from their temporary home in Naples, Italy to the west coast of 'gli Stati Uniti.' Nice to have an RN in the family...
She came over to the recliner, stood beside me, pushed me forward a bit and counted down to my standing up. "Hey, good job, that was great!" she said softly. She put her arm around my waist as I shuffled over to the kitchen table and guided my posterior above a sturdy chair. We performed the stand-up maneuver in reverse and landed safely. My first real meal in 4 days and I couldn't have been more elated: home made Chicken Soup! Moll Doll scooted my chair close to the table, unfolded a cloth napkin, layed it across my lap and took her seat across from me. The bowl was welcoming hot; the sharp angle of it's sides allowed me to cup my hands around it while I took in the savory, healing vapors. Oh my God, I thought, I can sense every single ingredient in this dish from the strips of thigh meat, to the minced leaves of garden thyme. The carrots, onion, and celery were present in perfect proportion; a layer of left-over basmati rice ebbed at the bottom of the bowl after my every incursion. Little yellow droplets of chicken fat clung to the perimeter trying desperately to connect.
The floor was cold as a draft was slipping under the french doors to the patio. Outside, Spring had recently arrived, but, Winter's chill wasn't leaving anytime soon.
"How's that workin' out for ya?" Molly asked, "is it enough?"
I looked up at her and just smiled for a moment.
"This is perfect," I whispered, "no, I mean this...is...perfect..." I went on about the texture of the meat, how it gave a little and wasn't breast meat fiber. Taking two more sips of broth, I continued,
"the broth is clear and deceptively flavorful, the green, white and orange of the veggies remind me of the Irish flag, the rice provides a frugal filler. You salted it expertly and the temp is over 200 degrees."
"This is the best Goddamn soup I have ever tasted..." I confessed, my head and eyes barely coming up high enough to make eye contact.
Sis kinda sat up in her chair, straightened her back and with a tilt of her head said,
"Well, thank you...that's very sweet of you to say, but, it's only..." I cut her off.
"No, this is perfect. You being here, giving me your time and compassion. Asking questions, setting things up, sanitizing the house to guard against infection and today, my first meal at home with a new heart, is a dish that came directly from your heart. Your kindness and love are overwhelming and delicious!"
After a second bowl and more chit-chat, I dropped back into the recliner and believe I dozed off for a few minutes. The house was quiet except for the occasional sound of a page being turned as Molly read at the table.
Love comes in many forms: being there for someone, listening to heartache, being quiet, assisting in chores you'd rather not discuss, or maybe just making the Best Chicken Soup. We all buy the same ingredients, but, the priceless condiment of Love makes each dish a signature.
I'll never forget the kindness of my sister Molly and am forever grateful for her selfless giving.
I love you, Moll Doll!
Take Care, God Bless and Remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"
chefbq
