When soup is indicated

When my husband looks like a cross between

Bill the Cat

(think of the hacking noises associated with hairball expulsion)

and

Albert Einstein

(the hair)

and claims to be "weak as a kitten!" with "vultures circling our house!"

and I am starting in on a sore throat, it is time to make soup. It's always one of the last things I try to do on my way down. I may become more ill and my husband may even pass away, but I won't starve.

A final trip to the produce market to procure ingredients revealed a spring treat, morels! I love their deep, woody taste and Sophie likes them because they taste similar to mushrooms but without what she considers the slimy texture. A win-win.

Tender baby California-grown asparagus is starting to show up (fava beans are surely not far behind).

And I chose flavorings of green onions, baby ginger, and cilantro.

I could have added a whole chicken to the pot, but we're sick, remember? So I resorted to the stock of stock I usually have in my freezer and boneless chicken breasts.

It all went into the pot, along with a little fish sauce and lime, to simmer while I repaired to the couch for a little rest.

Rice noodles added at the end rounded out a hearty and fragrant meal-worthy soup.

It's Wednesday, so that means I have today and tomorrow to pull myself back to my general state of excellent health. Sophie's race team has Friday afternoon practice and then two final days of racing over the weekend. In the worst case scenario, I'll toss Husband in the back of the car and we'll be off. Last weekend I logged my thirtieth (30th!!!!!) day on the slopes—a new record for me and I think not bad for someone who does not live in the mountains—and I'm not done yet!

Enjoy the spring if you're so inclined. If you're not, pray with me for more snow!!