Time To Eat . . .

I have a story to tell you.

It may seem a bit harsh, but I have to get the truth out there.

It’s been on my mind for years. My family and some close friends know the truth, but it’s not something I have shared with everyone. I think it is time to put it out there.

Bear with me for a moment.

I know many who will disagree with me. I’m okay with that. Each to their own and all that.

So here it goes. The truth:

I hate chicken noodle soup.

Loathe. Despise. Detest. 

All of those words apply. I cannot stand the look, the smell, the taste, or even the mere THOUGHT of chicken noodle soup.

Now you might be thinking, why? Or maybe, even how could someone have such strong feelings about chicken noodle soup? Has she finally lost her mind?

I am here to assure you, I have not lost my mind! There are some very good reasons why I don’t like it.

You see it all began, a long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away . . . wait a minute. Wrong story. (I may have seen too many Star Wars ads online this week ;) )

Okay, really this story is in a few parts. So bear with me.

Way back in time, when I was in third grade, I was quite ill. Like the doctors thought I had spinal meningitis kind of ill. I was so sick, I spent time in the hospital. I’ll spare you ALL the details – although I did give the doctor a black eye. But I digress.  So here I was in the hospital, spending most of my time sleeping. However, when I was awake, people kept trying to feed me. Every meal was exactly the same: chicken noodle soup and red jello.* My loathing of chicken noodle soup all stems from this. I completely associate it with being sick and in the hospital. The good news in this story, I did not have spinal meningitis. Not sure they ever did figure out what was wrong with me. But I was sent home a few days after arriving, and am here to share all sorts of stories with you.

Now fast forward a few months in time from the hospital stay. Imagine if you would, a family dinner. Grandma, Mom, Dad, Brother, and I, are all sitting down at the table to have dinner. Family dinners at the table, using our best manners, (especially when Grandma was visiting), and staying seated for the entire meal, was the expected course of action. For this particular meal, Grandma had cooked all day to make us a special meal. Everything was made from scratch and the cooking smells wafted through our home. Grandma was an amazing cook! Now imagine my parents, and Grandma’s surprise, as the food was brought to the table, and I took one look at it, and threw a colossal fit.

A stubborn, slouched back in my chair, crossed my arms at the dinner table, refused to take one bite of dinner, because it was so disgusting, how can you people possibly eat that, kind of fit.

It was chicken noodle soup. Homemade. HOURS had been put into making this aromatic dish.

I wanted no part of it.

I refused to eat it.

I left the dinner table.

I was told to go to my room.

In other words, I was a complete pain in the ass.

Bless Grandma and my parents. They handled it well. And as far as I can recall, we never had chicken noodle soup again.

Now you may be asking yourself, why is she telling us all of this?

Well, I needed to tell you all of this, to bring you to tonight. Tonight was a moment of truth. You see, my child has been sick all week. So today I was brainstorming, trying to remember all the things my Mom would do to take care of me. I wanted to make sure that I had added them all to my arsenal to get my child well. We’ve done the showers to cool down. The lemon and honey to sooth the cough. There have been countless naps taken. Then it occurred to me, there was one last item that I had never considered trying.

Chicken. Noodle. Soup.

It popped into my brain today, and once the idea took hold, I couldn’t let it go. Part of my thought was, isn’t chicken noodle soup, what every mother and grandmother, in every story, brings to their child when they are sick? Homemade food is an expression of love! Everyone always feels better after having it. Somehow, in my brain the x number of years that I have hated, loathed, despised, and detested, chicken noodle soup ceased to exist. I was on a mission to make soup for my child. Fortunately, last week I was part of a discussion with neighbors that included recipes for how to make chicken noodle soup. As soon as I recalled that, I texted my friend and asked her for the recipe! Like the good friend she is, she typed up the recipe with directions, and emailed it to me about 15 minutes later. With recipe in hand, I ventured to the store for the ingredients. A short while later, I was home, and began my cooking.

And I was on the phone with my Mom.

She wanted to know how everyone was feeling. What was everyone doing tonight?

I told her I was making chicken noodle soup.

There was a moment of silence before she started laughing.

I started laughing.

We finished each other’s sentences reminiscing about the fit I threw. After all, it was one that has gone down in family lore. We finished the conversation with her wishing me luck on my cooking endeavors, and to let her know how it all turns out.

So now, I feel I have to end this by sharing another truth.

It’s going to be difficult for me to write this.

You know what? Chicken noodle soup is actually pretty tasty.

*(FYI I will NEVER eat jello).