First it was the rat infestation. Then it was the email that greeted us with news of the norovirus. Let's face it: Tufts, in some way or another, is undergoing a plague of sorts.
That being said, I am currently writing this column from bed, sick with this aforementioned stomach flu. Watered-down apple juice in hand, I've been forced to succumb to the bananas-rice-apples-tea regimen. I've been hit with the dilemma that is the plague and, given the germy season, I'm sure many of my classmates have too.
People usually fall ill only a few times per year but, regardless, each time is devastating: You miss school and work, you lose sleep and perhaps most importantly, you often lose your appetite, with days sometimes going by before you're back to normal eating habits — and, speaking from first-hand experience, this is the worst part.
I'm basically a fly-trap for any kind of stomach bug, and whenever I have a headache, I'm tired or I'm angry, nausea joins the party. Naturally, my weak stomach greatly impacts my eating and most definitely my cooking. As much as I love both the physical and social concepts behind a good meal, and as much as I love trying new foods, there's a lot I need to watch out for. My stomach is my unfortunate Achilles' heel: I'm allergic to pork products, I'm lactose-intolerant … I even was tested this past summer for Celiac's disease, which is an intolerance to gluten, a protein most commonly found in wheat but really in everything. Fast food is almost always out of the question. Forget about extra-spicy or extra-acidic foods. When I'm sick like I am now, until very recently, I had to forget about eating anything at all.
But then that all changed.
When I was en route to New York from Rome last December, after spending 26 hours in — and sleeping on the floor of — Terminal 5 in Heathrow Airport in London when my flight got canceled due to "snow," little did I know that my body was gradually developing a crazed superbug. I spent two weeks in New York only to return to Rome for my final exams, and the night I boarded a plane back to Fiumicino, I felt sick as a dog. I tried to sleep on the plane but to no avail, and I especially tried to stomach the airline food, also unsuccessfully. When I arrived back at my apartment, I knew I needed to eat, but what?
Behold my creation of a chicken soup that, whether you're sick or not, should always hit the spot.
Ingredients:
Vegetable oil
Half an onion, diced
3 parts of fresh garlic, or 1 big teaspoon of minced garlic
Dash of red pepper flakes (optional)
6 cups chicken broth
1 cup water
1 tsp parsley
2 chicken breasts, cut into bite-sized pieces
2-3 cups carrots, sliced into 1-inch disks
2 cups of uncooked egg noodles
2 cups of fresh baby spinach
Salt and pepper to taste
In a large saucepan on medium heat, heat enough oil to coat the garlic and the onion. Sautee both until the onion is light brown in color, and then add red pepper.
Add the chicken broth, water, parsley and chicken. Cook chicken for about 5 minutes.
Once you add your carrots, cook for 3 minutes more.
Add the uncooked egg noodles and cook these in the soup until prepared to how you like them (al dente, soft, etc.)
Add the spinach and cook until it wilts nicely and add spices like salt and pepper as necessary.
Of course, everybody claims to have the best chicken soup recipe, but I hope you'll give mine a try sometime.
Excuse me as I do so myself.
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NikiKrieg is a senior who is majoring in Italian studies and history. She can be reached at Nicole.Krieg@tufts.edu.
