Soup for the Sick or the Soul?
February 17, 2006
I’ve been thinking about chicken noodle soup. I’ve been thinking about the excellent home-made chicken stock in my freezer, the vegetables in my crisper, the half a grilled chicken breast in my fridge, and the open package of fettuccine in my cupboard. I’ve been thinking that I have all the ingredients for chicken noodle soup, which supposedly has restorative value when you’re sick with a cold or the flu. Now, if only I could pull myself off the couch and out from under this blanket, and muster up enough energy to stand for about 20 minutes, I might just make some.
The story unfolds like this. I found myself in the middle of a Nor’Easter (I always feel like a sailor when I say that), which would eventually dump twelve inches of snow on Philadelphia. Simultaneously, my dear, sweet, loving and adorable pooch had an upset stomach. Between the hours of 11pm and 5am, sweet Sadie whined and cried from two stories down, begging me to please open the front door to let her out. Not once… but four times, I made the urgent leap out of bed and down two flights of stairs, opened the front door for Sadie, and plunged forth into the blizzard wearing my pajamas. After all, I know she would do the same for me, if only she had thumbs and could manage the door handle.
The next day was a battle between me and the weather. I’m not sure, but I suspect the world would have stopped turning had I not made it into work, so for everyone’s sake, I fought the elements and took the train out to the suburbs. I waited in the blowing snow for 30 minutes at the other end of the line for a ride the rest of the way to the studio. Later, after work, I was dropped off at the train station and waited outside for another 40 minutes for the return ride home. The train stopped at the station before mine, and didn’t seem to want to move any farther. I got out and walked the distance. I had to get home to my sick dog. What havoc would she have wrecked on my home in my absence, not able to open the door herself?
Over the next two days, Sadie’s health improved while mine quickly deteriorated. She was lethargic for a day, but soon tried to eat the mailman again – a sign that she is back to normal. Meanwhile, I moved myself down to the couch and crawled under a blanket. Frankly, even typing on the computer seemed to require too much energy. That’s when I started thinking about chicken noodle soup.
I honestly can’t remember if my mother made chicken noodle soup for me when I was sick as a child. I know that I don’t particularly like chicken noodle soup, which is a good indication that I did have it when I was ill, for I have developed bad associations with foods and drink that were used as restorative nutrients. To this day, ginger ale will bring on cold and flu symptoms faster than any virus I’ve encountered. In keeping to this theory, there’s a good chance that chicken noodle soup was on the list of “sick foods”. When I finally made it out of the house and to the grocery store, I stood in the soup aisle for about 15 minutes, staring at all the different chicken noodle soup options. I couldn’t bring myself to pick up any of them. I mean, truly, I didn’t even touch a can or package to look at it more closely. The soup simply held no appeal. Instead, I chose an organic tomato soup.
So, why then, do I still have chicken noodle soup on the brain? Is it because all my ingredients are sitting in the kitchen, practically begging to be put together? Is it time for me to give chicken noodle soup another chance? Are there really restorative qualities in this concoction given to sick children world-wide? I decided to find out.
It didn’t take me long to discover that this question has been posed by many over the years. Indeed, there have even been a few medical studies on the subject, but none have been very thorough since there’s no monetary incentive – no-one will be able to patent chicken noodle soup and become a millionaire. What I did find out was that most “experts” agreed that the steam inhaled when eating a hot soup aids in unclogging congestion. No kidding. Big deal. Mum made me lean over a bowl of boiling water with a towel over my head to ease my congestion. That’s not why she would have made me eat chicken noodle soup.
Then I read other less-agreed-upon theories on why chicken noodle soup is good for more than just your soul. Some think that there’s an amino acid released when chicken is cooked that aids in reducing inflammation and slows mucus production – a common problem with the common cold. Others maintain that the fat content of chicken noodle soup helps soothe your sore throat. The most in-depth study, by a Dr. Rennard who used his wife’s Lithuanian mother’s recipe in his research, asserts that it stops neutrophils (inflammatory white blood cells) from accumulating in your bronchial tubes.
As I read and learned more, chicken noodle soup started to hold even less appeal. I lay on the couch, thinking about mucus, inflammation, Kleenex, bronchial tubes, chicken fat, amino acids, over-cooked carrots, slippery noodles sliding down my throat, where I was pretty sure a golf ball was lodged at the moment. My distaste for chicken noodle soup was just getting worse.
I then had a sudden revelation. I realized what had been left out of the scientific research. I’m quite sure that in no case study were the patients required to make their own chicken noodle soup. I’m sure it was made for them. Perhaps even made for them by a Lithuanian grandmother! It was the fact that the soup was prepared for them, and the love and care involved in that process that really held the healing power. I snuggled down deeper under my blanket, knowing that there was no longer any reason to move off the couch and into the kitchen. Sure, I had all the ingredients for chicken noodle soup in my home, but I was missing the key component – the person to make it for me.
I never really liked chicken noodle soup anyway, and I’m already feeling much better.
This is, as usual, a very interesting little blog. There is no doubt in my mind that a little collection of your writings, bound into an attractive bedside book would do more than chicken noodle soup to restore great health and good spirits. (Think of all those chicken noodle soup books of Jack Cansfield.) Try it.