A Reminder to Lower the Flame

And add normalcy to the brew

I let my husband have his coffee before making the announcement: chills, sweat, headache, sore throat, severe stomach pain.

I’m sick, I say.

He peevishly states that it’s too late for him, since we sleep together less than a yard apart unless the dog wedges in the middle. Nevertheless, he’s a sympathetic husband and by the afternoon is pretty sure he’s sick, too.

Thus it begins: Drag down the street to the friendly neighborhood pharmacy to be tested. Drag back home where complaints increase throughout the day. The most afflicting, though, proves to be a sharp dread brought on by two years of nonstop turmoil. Rationality tries its best to counter: fully vaccinated, no foolhardy outings, all-in-all very healthy, no underlying conditions. Rationality doesn’t have a chance.

The following day, continuous status reports ping from room to room. Family and friends decide not to stop by, but do, please, let them know how things turn out.

And, of course, the reveal arrives the next day: Negative! We’re both negative! Probably the flu, a breakthrough vaccination one, to be sure. Chills, headache, sore throat that’s now a cough, disturbed stomach—still just a regular old winter flu.

Out comes the soup pot, in goes a whole chicken stored in the freezer for such occasions. Vegetables are chopped and sautéed in butter. Next comes enough water to cover the chicken, two bay leaves, and a handful of dried herbs. In the background plays the current audio book, the biography of Ulysses S. Grant. It’s at the part about the 1876 election, and if you want to know a time before when the country was truly going to hell in a handbasket, it’s a good history to know: a hotly contested presidential election (the worst before 2020), the two political parties at each other’s throats, a divided Supreme Court whittling away at voters’ rights, states claiming their supremacy over federal laws, bloody racism, dark economic forecast.

Thomas Nast’s cartoon commenting on the presidential election of 1876. Caption reads: “A truce—not a compromise, but a chance for high-toned gentlemen to retire gracefully from their very civil declarations of war.”

The only parallel missing from today is a pandemic.

I stir the soup and wait to hear how the country got out of the mess it was in 146 years ago. I have the flu; the country will pull itself together. Nothing’s normal, but it’s worth remembering nothing’s new.

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Anne Bryn wrote a wonderful piece for her newsletter, Between the Layers, last week that explores what was once known as invalid cooking, a collection of dishes made expressly to tend to the sick. Almost every cookbook and household account from as far back as the 16th century and continuing into the early 20th century contained a section full of valuable care instructions and recipes that brought comfort and relief—often superior to what doctors provided—during the course of many illnesses and injuries. Even if you’re not feeling under the weather, you’ll find a lot to enjoy in Anne’s archive!