This last week I got slammed by some sort of virus; the kind where the cats even took notice. Rather than caterwauling to go outside, they lay on either side of me while I slept the week into infinity. There’s no greater comfort than the love of a warm, furry being. Except, maybe soup.
Whenever I’m feeling out of sorts, either from a head cold or the stomach flu my body craves soup. Piping hot broth-based soup. Chicken soup most often, from scratch if I can manage to make it myself. But when my body makes that task almost impossible to achieve I opt for wonton soup instead.
There’s something about Chinese soups that screams medicinal healing, and whether based in fact or fiction — I’m ever so grateful for the kick in the seat of your pants induced sweat lodge session that rids my body of its impurities and nurses it back to health.